Chapter 8
Nicole
“Well, your labeling came in handy once again, I see,” Jeremy states as he holds the bag full of gemstones. “Now, if the flash drive is here, we’re good to go.”
I barely hold back my snort; I have no unrealistic illusions that he’s going to leave me alive and breathing when he finds what he wants and takes off. He’s an asshole of epic proportions and I can’t believe that younger me fell for his poetic line of bullshit. Granted, I’m older and have a bit more life experience under my belt now, but even still, how could I have ever thought he was attractive?
Maybe it’s his attitude. He’s cocky, condescending, and acts as though his shit doesn’t stink. Well, I’ve got a newsflash for him, it does. I just don’t remember him being this way ten years ago, but if he’s involved in nefarious, illegal acts, that probably has a lot to do with his persona now. He’s harder, more jaded. To me, he looks like a monster.
“Let me check my purse since it wasn’t in the box where the others were packed,” I suggest. I begin to diligently search through every nook, cranny and pocket inside of my purse, but come up empty. Then I remember how Stealth dumped out my purse at the clubhouse and wonder if maybe in all the ensuing chaos, it fell on the floor or something. Even thinking that, an idea strikes… If I can get him to the clubhouse, I can alert the masses that something’s wrong. Someone there will save me from him.
“Do you have it, bitch?” he asks once I set my purse aside.
“It’s not in there either,” I say, grinding my teeth.
“Where the fuck did it go?” he seethes, now pacing back and forth across the floor like a madman who’s lost his last marble.
“It could be at the clubhouse. My purse got dumped out and the contents went flying everywhere,” I admit, hoping to entice him to head that way.
“Fine, let’s go,” he insists, grabbing my arm roughly and yanking me. I barely manage to snag my purse before I’m basically dragged out the door and shoved into the passenger seat of what is apparently his vehicle.
A slight glimmer of hope begins to burn when it dawns on me that I don’t see Stealth or his bike right now. Maybe, when he returns from wherever he’s gone, he’ll see my car and put two and two together. That’s my hope, anyhow.
* * *
“Can you please slow down?” I ask, grabbing onto the ‘oh shit’ handle as Jeremy’s erratic driving throws me against the passenger door and tosses me around. “We’re not in a race.”
“This fucker isn’t going to merge over,” he retorts, cutting the steering wheel slightly, which has the passenger side tires hitting the rumble strips on the shoulder. He attempts to overcorrect just as the other vehicle clips the front end slightly and I watch in horror as he loses control.
Almost as if everything is happening in slow motion, we slide through a small space in the guardrail and the car plunges down the embankment. I can’t help the scream I emit as trees of all sizes flash by the windows, the car picking up to a rapid speed since we’re parachuting downhill. The windows start splintering and shattering with each impact, and soon, I’m covered with cuts thanks to the flying glass. When I see the huge boulder ahead, I close my eyes and whisper a prayer that if I don’t make it through this, they don’t let Tressa see my body in this condition.
We end up smashing into the boulder headfirst and the airbags deploy, smashing into me from the front and sides. My mouth is flooding with the taste of blood; I feel agonizing pain wracking my entire body; all I can hope is that someone saw us go down the side of the culvert and they called emergency services for help.
As darkness descends, all I manage to utter is, “Stealth, help me.”