Redline (8 page)

Is he…? But that car is Cody's baby!

Their side panels connect. I watch, horrified, as the Camaro jerks sideways. Toward the concrete median.

“
No!
” I scream.

Cody backs off, then rams Dmitri again. I'm crying now, the tears slick on my face. Salty on my lips. Cody holds Dmitri, grinding against him. I'm close enough to hear the crunching sound their side panels make as they connect. Metal on metal. I scream again as Cody pushes the Camaro toward the center divide.

I watch in horror as Dmitri swerves inward, closer toward the concrete blocks. What the hell is he doing? He's going to kill hims—

SMASH!
Dmitri whips away from the median. Cody takes a hit. His car skips, but he doesn't hit the brakes.

This is going to get ugly.

I see Cody veer out, toward the edge of the highway. I know what he's thinking. He's going to wind up and plow Dmitri. And Dmitri's going to crash into the median.

And then he's going to die.

He's doing this for me.

Cody comes back for the kill.

“
N-o-o-o-o-o-o
!” The word roils up, torn from the center of my core, bursting from my throat in a hysteria-fueled wail that goes on and on without stopping.

I see the skier again, plowing into Adrienne.

I'm no lightweight.

I see her skidding across the snow, pushed by the force of his strike.

Lesser boarders get hurt.

I see the tree in front of her, her body hurtling toward its unyielding solidness.

Innocent people get killed.

I see—

No!

Dmitri's brake lights.

What?

I let off the gas. Dmitri falls back. I slow, keeping pace behind him. My heart is thrumming out some sort of crazy tribal rhythm, but I feel my airway open up a bit. He's falling back.

Bowing out.

Expecting to find Dmitri but finding nothing but open air, Cody's car lunges toward the median. He corrects, but not before his front end grazes the concrete dividers. A shower of sparks erupts from his nose.

And then I see a beautiful thing.

A police cruiser—probably the same one that chased me last week—bursts from the ditch behind us. He rips past us without a sidelong glance, pounding after Cody's car with his lights on and siren blaring.

I feel a stab of relief. They're not after me. Or Dmitri.

The relief gives way to a sudden delicious satisfaction.

If they catch that asshole, they're going to crush his ride.

If he doesn't crush himself first, I think, and shudder.

In front of me, Dmitri slows some more. I follow suit.

He pulls off on the shoulder and I roll to a stop behind him, shaking. My entire body is shaking like I've been shot full of nerve poison. The tremors roll out of my center, one after another, causing my teeth to chatter and my hands to tremble on the wheel.

I fumble with my parking brake and take my foot off the clutch. The car jerks forward into a stall, and I shriek. I'm not thinking straight.

When the engine is finally quiet, I rest my head against the steering wheel. It's all I can do.

I soak up the silence for a few moments. A car door closes, but I can't be bothered to look up.

I take a deep breath. Another. Another.

Steady. Come back to earth, Jenessa.

I hear feet crunching on gravel. Another car door opens.

Dmitri's voice reaches me from a million miles away.

“Looks like they've been waiting for him.” He's holding my door open, leaning on the frame. I don't lift my head. Instead, I stare at his leg. His boot. The little crack in the sole right where it connects with the toe. The dust around the stitching.

The night air cools my skin. I wait for my breathing to return to normal.

“I don't know how,” he continues, “but I saw them there, lying in wait. I'm sure they've been wanting to make a bust for quite some time.”

I look up at his face.

He smiles at me. “Thought I'd let them catch the badass tonight.”

I rub my hands over my face. I run my hands through my hair and sit back in my seat. I stare up at the roof. Let out a long breath.

Finally I turn to look at him. “Yeah?” I say. I give him a weak smile. “Who says they caught the right one?”

He grins and stoops to kiss me.

I want to cry. I want to laugh.

I want to live.

Acknowledgments

My thanks to Beth Gracia, my track-racing insurance agent (!), who was a great source of information in writing this book.

Alex Van Tol has been writing for as long as she can remember. A freelance writer, she is the author of
Knifepoint
,
Viral
and
Gravity Check
, all from Orca Book Publishers. Alex lives in Victoria, British Columbia, and dreams of Bora Bora.

O
rca S
o
undings

For more information on all the books
in the Orca Soundings series, please visit
www.orcabook.com
.