all as I turn to face the front and follow his command, stealing a glance at the burning trailer. I see the girls moving around, but I don’t think they’ve even realized what happened or know we’re in this car. I can’t think beyond my best friend, inches from a killer’s knife.
When he doesn’t answer, I look in the rearview to see him. “Please, please don’t hurt her.”
He lifts a brow, the hollows of his angular face making him look even more menacing. “One more moment of hesitation and she’s dead.”
“Where?” I croak, stalling for more time. My fingers tremble as I turn the key, which was in the ignition, and the lights come on. Should I flash the brights? Honk? Signal for help?
“Don’t even think about it,” he says, leaning forward to get his whole arm around Molly’s neck. “Just go. I’ll tell you where.”
I take one more look at Molly, who hasn’t stirred. “Don’t hurt her. Hurt me. Kill me, I don’t care, but don’t hurt Molly.”
“You should know me better than that by now,” he says. “My work is so much cleaner. But if you don’t drive this car, I will make an exception. They won’t find her body for so long it won’t matter how I kill her.” He nods toward the steering wheel. “You have exactly five seconds to move.”
I turn, my arm instinctively reaching for the seat belt, but I realize just how stupid that is. Anyway, I might have to leap out of a moving car.
No, not without Molly. I won’t let him hurt Molly, no matter what he does to me.
Very slowly, I start to pull out of the rutted driveway.
“Move it!”
The order bounces off the metal and glass of the car, loud enough to make Molly stir and whimper. Come on, Molls, wake up. Two of us are better than one against this maniac.
I hit the gas, increasing the speed a little, working with everything I have to stop the trembling fear that shudders through me. As long as I’m alive, I have a chance. And so does Molly.
I struggle to find the high beams because I’ve driven this car only a few times. I turn onto the deserted road, willing a car to drive by. What will the police think when they investigate this explosion? When they see Levi’s motorcycle?
I know he’s innocent … so where is he?
I steal another quick look in the rearview mirror, but Jarvis is purposely sitting at an angle where I can’t see him. He’s still leaning forward and I know that knife is inches from ending my best friend’s life.
Heavy silence thickens in the tiny space, the only sound my strained breaths. I blink when tears blur my vision, refusing to let him see how scared I am. He clears his throat and I brace for whatever order he’s going to give now.
“Lacrimis oculos suffusa nitentis.”
Oh, for crying out loud. My head isn’t clear enough for Latin.
“Beautiful words, don’t you think, Quinte?”
I manage a nod, grateful to think in my native tongue.
“Translate,” he orders.
Shit. “Can you, um, repeat the phrase?”
He chuckles. “Ah, memories of competitions. How I loved them.”
Okay, maybe he’ll talk. In Latin, about Latin, whatever. Maybe that will relax him and get me some answers and information … if I don’t die tonight. Which seems pretty damn likely.
“Take the highway. West.”
The highway is good—more cars. More chance of someone coming to our rescue.
“Lacrimis oculos suffusa nitentis,” he repeats after a few minutes.
I’m not listening, studying the other cars. Could I signal to one? Could I put an emergency call out somehow? What if I did something totally illegal and got pulled over? That would be brill—
“Translate!” he barks, and Molly turns and sighs.
“Okay, okay.” I picture each word. “Eyes with tears?” He doesn’t answer. “Eyes that are …‘suffusa’? Is that suffused? ‘Nitentis’?” I shake my head. “I don’t know those words.”
He snorts. “And you think you could win a competition? ‘Her sparkling eyes bedewed with tears.’ Book One of Virgil’s Aeneid, line 228.” After a pause, he leans closer to me. “Stop crying, Quinte. One of the reasons I chose you is that you aren’t a baby.”
“You chose me?”
“I choose them all, every year. But, it’s over, sadly. This will be the last year of the list.”
Despite the heat of the enclosed car, I feel goose bumps spread across my body. His arm is still over the seat, the knife millimeters from Molly’s throat. “You mean … the Hottie List?”
“Ah, yes,” he