Chapter 17
Noah
“You missed the turn I told you to take,” Blayke commented nonchalantly from the passenger seat. When I glanced at him, he was just drinking his soda like he didn’t have a care in the fucking world. I glared back at the asphalt stretching in front of me and tightened my hands on the steering wheel.
“Why the fuck didn’t you say something about my turn before I passed it?” I demanded.
“I did,” he retorted with a shrug. I could feel his eyes on my face, but I fucking refused to look at the irritating bastard. “Not my fault you missed it.”
“You told me five fucking miles ago,” I growled as I headed further down the highway. “If you would just put the goddamn GPS where I can see it, we wouldn’t have this problem, Blayke.”
He snorted. “Then you’d never talk to me. And you’d ignore me when I tried talking to you. So no, mama. I’m keeping the GPS hostage—”
The all-too-familiar sound of a gun popping reached my ears.
Blayke swore, dropped the phone, and grabbed the rifle from between his legs before twisting around to look out the back window, but I already saw the problem.
A truck was following us. It was an older model, but work had been done to customize it.
The windows were tinted so dark, they were blacked out, which meant we couldn’t see the individuals inside.
But I could see that gun sticking out the passenger side window.
“Mother fuckers,” Blayke growled, low and dangerous. My core clenched, and I mentally cursed myself. Now was not the time to be getting all hot and bothered just because Blayke sounded absolutely sinful when he was pissed off.
He glanced at the traffic ahead of us just as another gunshot pinged off the SUV. Blayke snatched his phone up and called Alejandro.
“What?” Alejandro sighed.
“Got a problem,” Blayke told him just as two more shots hit the SUV, one of them cracking the glass on the back.
I weaved through traffic, trying to get us off the fucking highway and find a more secluded, less populated road so innocent civilians wouldn’t get hit by a stray bullet.
“Can’t identify them, but we’ve got at least two people who are trying to take us out. One is shooting, the other is driving.”
“Miguel is tracking your location now,” Alejandro told him. “You two hang tight. Do what’s needed to remain alive. Try to take out your target. If you cannot, keep driving until backup arrives.”
Blayke ended the call after an affirmative. “Hold on,” I snapped, then whipped the wheel, taking the next turn.
“Fuck!” Blayke shouted as he latched onto the handle above the door. “Little more warning next time, mama?”
“Doesn’t feel so nice, does it?” I bit back just because I was a snarky bitch.
He laughed—fucking laughed. Like we weren’t being chased by assholes who wanted us dead. Assholes with guns who wanted us dead, at that. Leave it to Blayke to find amusement when we were literally in a life or death situation.
“Touché,” he told me. He glanced back behind us at our tail. “If I stick my head out the window, they’re going to take it off. The only reason they haven’t managed to take us out yet is because Alejandro invests in bullet-proof glass.”
“Remind me to kiss him later,” I said, quickly taking a sharp curve that came out of fucking nowhere. Blayke’s shoulder slammed against the door, and he hissed, reaching up to rub it as he glared at me.
“If your lips go anywhere near him, little mama, I swear to fuck—” three more pops and pings—”I will slaughter him, then chain you to my bed.”
“Seems awfully dominant for a man who let me control him last night.” I whipped around another curve, muttering a curse under my breath.
Blayke was more prepared for it that time though, so he didn’t slam into the door again.
Pity. I glanced in my rearview mirror, noting the truck was now gaining speed, no doubt wanting to crash into us.
And like fuck was that about to happen.
“Get ready,” I warned Blayke.
“For what—Jesus fucking Christ!” he shouted as I spun the wheel, quickly swinging the back end of the SUV around so we were facing our attackers.
Blayke snarled my name before he aimed his AK out the window.
I floored the gas and looked behind me, quickly driving backward so they wouldn’t crash into us.
Blayke let loose. Bullets sprayed the vehicle in front of us, shattering the windshield, killing the engine, and taking out the passenger side front tire. And when the glass fell from their windshield, we were greeted with the sight of two very bloody, bullet-hole riddled men.
I eased to a stop, breathing hard. Blayke tossed the gun between his legs after putting on the safety, then grabbed the front of my shirt and tugged my torso over the center console. Then, his lips were on mine in an angry kiss that was bruising enough to make my lip split and bleed.
“You’re fucking crazy, little mama,” he growled. Then, he shoved out of the SUV without a word. He stood there for a second, hands on his hips, staring up at the sky. “FUCK!” he shouted. He glared at me, then stormed to the truck.
I sighed and leaned back in my seat. He was pissed. Guessed there was a first time for everything.