Chapter 22 #2
As soon as I made the turn onto my road, the bad feeling continued to sweep through me, digging into every bone and muscle.
I was only a couple of blocks away when I noticed a dark sedan parked near my building.
There should be nothing abnormal about that, but my nerves were jumping all over the place.
I decided not to pull down the side street toward the parking lot, instead driving right by without slowing. There was someone sitting in the driver’s seat. The only reason I was able to tell that was by movement briefly captured by the flash of my headlights.
Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me, but I could swear it was the same person I’d seen on the street.
Again, maybe my imagination was in the full throes of a breakdown, but I thought I caught a black baseball cap and a dark jacket with a hoodie, the hood clinging to his shoulders. Not necessarily too odd.
Except for the dark sunglasses worn in the middle of the night. I was no detective, but the outfit was something for the wearer to be able to fade into the shadows.
And to say with clarity—don’t fuck with me.
Another round of panic tried to settle in. I was running out of options as to what to do.
Stash.
I leaned forward, now with both hands on the steering wheel, and pressed down on the accelerator, thinking about his address. I rattled it off in my brain several times before concentrating on how to get away.
Just then, headlights popped on from behind me. A quick glance in the side mirror and I could tell the driver had pulled away from the curb. Oh, my God. He was about to follow me.
Think. Think. Think!
I took a sharp turn then another, hoping that I could lose them quickly.
But I didn’t.
I could see the headlights in the distance. Another hard turn and my poor little car had trouble, the backend swerving. Catching control, I did everything I could to right the car, losing speed and the advantage.
Within seconds, the driver had made the turn smoothly, not a single swerve. My mind was close to fritzing out, more terrified than I’d been in a long time if ever.
The street signs began to pass by too quickly and I did what I could to pay attention to where I was going.
The driver was catching up to me, not bothering to hide they were following me. While I drove, I remained on the lookout for any police cars, but something in the back of my mind told me my best bet was making it to Stash’s house. He would know how to handle this.
A full body chill hit me when the vehicle moved even closer.
What if the voicemail had gone to the wrong person and whoever had killed her knew I’d been on my way over?
A knowing hit me right between the eyes at that very moment, the kind of unsettling darkness indicating I was being hunted. The man was a predator and for whatever reason I’d been placed on his radar, he was determined to eliminate any risks.
Just like at the club.
The sensations were innate like the requirement to breathe.
There was nothing else to do but run for my life.
So I did.
Twists and turns in the road did little to slow him down. In New York there were enough distractions that a decent driver could disappear.
Not with this guy.
I moved to a more populous area, but all that did was slow me down.
He remained right on my tail, keeping his cool while I was freaking out.
But I had to concentrate or I’d miss the turns.
Of course I was risking more than my life by heading to Stash’s house, but there were no decent options.
Plus, I had the distinct feeling he’d been caught somewhere in the middle of all this.
“Damn it,” I hissed, going through mental exercises to try to figure out how I could buy myself some time.
If I took a certain turn at the last minute, crossing over a couple of lanes of traffic, the man following me would be forced to turn around. I had one shot at this and with the traffic fairly heavy, there was a good chance I’d end up in a horrific accident.
I had to try it. No pain, no gain.
A motto that meant absolutely nothing right now. I remained on the edge of my seat, wired to the hilt. The turn was coming up. I had one shot at this. One.
“It’s now or never.” I jerked the steering wheel and thankfully, the suspension responded instantly. While my poor car groaned in frustration, she responded as required, the wheels wobbling a little, but all in all, even though horns were honking, I was satisfied with the performance.
The moment I’d made it onto the ramp, I floored it. Suddenly, I was some crazy Indy 500 driver, powering the road like a warrior. There were other vehicles behind me, but nothing that caused any alarm, yet I had no intention of slacking off or hitting the brakes.
If a police officer wanted to pull me over for speeding, fabulous.
My plan still intact, I flew off the next exit, still going over forty miles per hour. By the point I made a necessary turn, I’d hit the gas pedal again and was going sixty.
However, my nerves were completely frayed and partially because I wasn’t one hundred percent certain I was going in the right direction to Stash’s house. I kind of knew the area, mostly from the party where I’d been Tawny’s plus one a couple of years before.
Long before I’d started to work at the Chertov Corporation.
Tawny.
Oh, God.
Another wave of sadness spiraled through me, hot and heavy bringing fresh tears. No one deserved to die that way.
While I was hyperventilating, a massive house on my right appeared familiar. Oh, thank God. I was close to the street where Stash lived. I floored the accelerator again, feeing somewhat victorious, an emotion that I knew instinctively I should squelch.
My instincts were spot on because the moment I turned onto his street, headlights shone into my windshield from an oncoming vehicle. The lights were bright enough I couldn’t make out anything. I kept going because there was no other choice.
As soon as it appeared the driver would pass without incident, the person flicked on their high beams.
Instantly, I was blinded, but I caught movement. He was trying to ram me. Everything fell into a slow-motion moment where I had a split second to react.
With a hard jerk to the right, I avoided being hit by the man’s huge SUV, but ramming my car hadn’t been his intention.
Cutting me off so I’d crash into a mailbox and a trashcan was.
With a sharp scream, I would thank my reflexes later that I kept control of the vehicle while slamming on the brakes.
When it came to a rolling stop, I was pitched forward.
I didn’t need to be told the hard thud had done enough damage to my right wheel and tire that I was going nowhere by driving.
My instincts were working overtime. I snapped my head up to see the fucker’s brake lights, the driver coming to a hard stop. Every part of me was shaking and I fumbled with the seatbelt while the asshole spun around so the front of the SUV faced me.
I had about ten seconds or if I were to guess, I’d say I wouldn’t make it to tomorrow. Everything happened in lightning speed at this point.
The seatbelt was off.
The door flung open.
My feet hitting the pavement.
And I took off running.
Obviously, the assailant hadn’t anticipated my quick thinking or actions, the skidding sound made by the tires boosting my adrenaline even more.
Since I hadn’t been hurt, I was able to bolt through the front yard of a house, fighting to keep my sense of direction. There was no time to look back and see if he was chasing me. All I could think about was getting to Stash’s house.
What if he wasn’t there? What then?
My legs ached, but right now, I was thankful I walked so many places. The fear kept me on edge and I rushed through a set of bushes into another yard. If my directions were spot on, once I reached the street, Stash’s house was at the end in the cul-de-sac.
I cut through another yard, hitting the street. I’d gone maybe fifty yards when I heard footsteps.
Stash’s house was just ahead. Maybe I slowed down or maybe my instincts were challenged, but I didn’t expect to feel an electric charge in the air just a split second before a bullet slammed into a tree that was barely a foot from me.
Maybe I screamed.
Maybe I didn’t.
My mind was a horrific blur as I lunged forward, crouching over. Another bullet whizzed by and at this point, I was racing down the long driveway toward Stash’s house.
Security lights popped on and I knew I was screaming as I rushed toward the front door. I could feel the asshole behind me, as if he was right there breathing down my neck. I threw myself at the door, pounding the surface with my fist.
“Please. Stash. Stash!”
I’d learned from the mugging of a year before that in trying to survive, sight and sound were usually muddled, which was the case. It seemed as if time was flying by when in fact, my guess was that only a few seconds passed.
I pressed my face to the door, fighting terror and anger, both emotions threatening to consume what was left of my rational mind. Just when I was certain the asshole was standing right behind me with a weapon pointed at my head, the door was flung open.
“Stash!”