Page 187 of Remy

“Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God,” she chants.

I dump my cell in my lap and reach out, gliding my palm around her neck, rubbing a gentle thumb across her jawline. “You’re doing such a good job, Ollie. I’m so fucking proud of you.”

She whimpers, leaning into the contact, melting into the praise. “What happens next?”

“Just pay attention and keep driving, sweetheart. This should be a quiet road that leads us back toward Berkeley Springs, but we’re going to detour up the mountain.”

She nods, concentration tightening her jaw as we approach a hard left turn. She takes the corner like a rally driver, crossing both lanes to speed into the straight.

For a few silent moments we could almost pretend we’re not being followed. There are no other cars in sight. The mass of trees surrounding us blocks out any other sign of life.

But then her gaze shifts to the rearview. “Remy, there’s more of them.”

I check the side mirror, seeing our tail, along with an additional set of headlights. “It’s okay.”

“How is it okay?” She sits taller, the panic returning. “There are two cars following us now. How can we handle both?”

“We don’t need to.” I dial Valenti’s number, the connection going through the car’s Bluetooth, the ringtone loud before the call cuts in.

“Lovely night for a high-speed car chase,” he drawls in greeting.

“I could’ve done without it,” I mutter. “But let’s get this over and done with. Ollie’s not a huge fan of her introduction into street racing.”

“That’s a shame. She’s doing a great job.”

She scoffs. “I’m going to projectile vomit any minute now.”

“Right.” Valenti clears his throat. “Want us to give them a friendly high-speed nudge toward a tree?”

I watch Ollie, waiting for her to protest the crime.

She doesn’t react. There’s only ongoing trepidation.

“Yeah.” I keep my eyes on her. “That sounds like a plan. Just wait until we take another turn. I want us as far away from homes as possible. When I’m ready, I’ll distract them with a few tire shots.”

“Understood.”

Ollie breathes out a measured breath.

“Let’s get it done.” I mute the call, still staring at her. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m great. Apart from being manic with fear, irrationally turned on by your good girl references, and extremely nauseous with my inability to handle emotion.” She gives me a sarcastic thumbs-up before clasping her hand back against the wheel and leaning into the next bend. “Couldn’t be better.”

I grin. “Would it help if I told you I’m also irrationally turned?—”

“No,” she growls.

I snicker. “Okay, Pyro. No more fun and games. It’s time to end this.” I unmute the call and refresh the map to check our surroundings. There’s nothing but dense trees and stretching land to hide the isolated houses, rental cabins, and vacation properties nestled into the mountain. “We’re aiming for Spring Brook Drive. It’s roughly two and a half miles ahead.”

Ollie nods.

“Got it,” Valenti replies.

We’re barely around the next bend when Ollie’s gaze shoots back to the rearview.

“They’re closing in,” Russo warns.

I glance through the rear window, the headlights behind us fast approaching. Shit. They’re going to ram us before Valenti gets the chance to act. “Take a hard right.”

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