wanted to.
The storm has been settled over us for at least twenty minutes, which is longer than these storms usually last here. The winds are still getting stronger, and the car is starting to sway against the gusts. It’s making me nervous. Jags presses his head back into his seat and tries to scoot his body down to create some space between the ceiling and his head. He turns to look at me, and I’m not sure what my face looks like right now, but he twists his body to face me and takes my white-knuckled grip off the steering wheel. “I don’t know your last name.”
“Caldwell,” I barely get out.
“What’s your favorite drink, besides whisky, obviously?” he asks with a quick wink. I’m having trouble thinking of an answer as I’m pretty sure the tires are starting to move beneath the car. “I feel like I might already have you pegged. Should I take a guess?”
I nod, trying to look at him but really looking past him at the water cascading down the window. “Okay.”
“Lemonade is your favorite drink, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “I think I just saw something fly by, like a piece of metal or a tree trunk.”
Jags turns around to look out the window, but there’s nothing there now. “We’re okay.”
“The car’s moving, isn’t it?” He doesn’t seem the slightest bit nervous, but he agrees silently.
“It’s not moving, but we’re swaying,” he says.
“There’s a deep ditch over there, like a ten-foot deep ditch,” I say pointing out of his window.
“You sure?”
“I’m positive.” I’m positive that if the winds continue to pick up, we’re moving closer in that direction by the second, too.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JAGS
THIS IS BAD. I have perfected the, no, we’re not going to die look. Now, if only I could convince myself of that. Honestly, I must have nine lives, and I’m only on four or five, so I should have faith that I’ll get out of this one too, with Sasha in tow.
“Okay, listen to me,” I tell her, looking her right in the eyes. “Before the wind picks up anymore, I need to go outside and see what our location is. It’s going to be okay.” The look on her face is a look I’m all too familiar with. I told Bambi she was going to be okay too. Relatively speaking, she is, other than the flesh part; although, her heart’s a little black now too.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Sasha tells me, tears now filling her eyes.
“Doll-face, I don’t think we have much of a choice.”
“Please, don’t leave me,” she cries and grapples at my soaked sweatshirt. “Please. I don’t even know your real name, but you know my full name. That’s not fair. Right?”
I scoop my hand behind her head and bring her forehead to my lips. Her head feels hot to the touch, but her hair smells like flowers and vanilla or something like that. It’s a nice distraction from the current situation. Pulling away, I tug the hood of my sweatshirt back over my head, like it’s going to do me any good with how heavy the rain is coming down, not to mention the pelting hail. It’s like combat but with ice balls…not really the same thing at all. This is more like a food fight between the Marines I was traveling alongside. With one last glance in Sasha’s direction and at the tears cascading down her cheeks, I force a genuine smile, trying to ease some of her fear. “My name is Jason Andrew Gaits. Besides Tango, you’re the only one I’ve told that to in over ten years. So let that be our secret.”
She nods her head quickly as more tears break from the corners of her pretty doe-like eyes. I’ve done my best to make this girl like me, and I’m willing to bet if I can get us both out of this storm in one piece, I might just get my way. With a lot of force, I push open the car door. I’m immediately thrown into the side of the car and pelted with hail and water drops the size of small balloons. Visibility is rough, and it reminds me of the sandstorms we were fighting through, except I might prefer water over sand. That shit hurt like hell when it got into our eyes. I shield my arm over my face, trying to get an idea of our location, and while I can’t see much, I can see we’re way