Page 93 of Walking the Edge

Dammit. He silently cursed himself, cursed his assigned job, cursed the damned attraction sizzling between them. Giving in to that again would lead straight to perdition. For both of them. He still tugged her finger. Then drove out of the garage.

His tires slapped down onto the street. A few minutes later, an SUV that looked like the one the family had climbed inside exited and turned their way. Without warning, another car hurtled into his path from a side street. Mitch slammed on the brakes. Tires squealed.

He breathed hard and waited for the other driver to drive off. But the black SUV didn’t move. The vehicle from the garage screeched to a stop on his rear bumper. Prickles ran down his spine.

He spun the wheel, but with his double cab, they got stuck. He only had time to spin the wheel the other way before a man in black jumped from the back door of the front car and rushed toward Cath’s.

“Lock the doors.” He handed Cath his SIG and jumped down into the street. The driver of the rear car rushed him, gun in his hand.

Mitch crashed his good hand down on the man’s wrist. A shot went wild, but the weapon hit the pavement. A well-placed kick doubled over his assailant. Mitch delivered a knockout blow to the back of the attacker’s neck.

The car in front took off up the street. Out of the corner of his eye, Mitch saw a shadow advance. Mitch feinted and ducked, but something sharp jabbed his neck. He swiveled and drove a heel into a soft gut, knocking the ski-mask guy against a parked car. Two more men rushed toward them from the rear SUV. Too many for just him. Mitch raced for his truck.

Cath saw him and had the door unlocked. He scrambled in and hit the gas.

“They’re following us.” She braced a hand on his seat to look out the rear window. “Two blocks back.”

But gaining fast. His vision blurred. Mitch rubbed his eyes and took the first right. This would take them to a busier and wider street in one block. And then what?

“This is one-way,” she yelled.

“It’s e-empty.” Was he slurring his speech? He slowed to navigate past parked cars along the narrow street. The SUV with the men took the same turn, but Mitch reached St. Charles Avenue first. He spun around the corner, accelerating.

“You’re weaving all around.”

His right leg weighed a ton and began to go numb. An intersection loomed ahead, but they couldn’t slow down. The SUV would catch them. He shot through the red, wrestling the wheel to stay in the lane.

Cath turned around again, tracking their tail. “They ran the light too.”

Green highway signs loomed overhead now. Their letters danced. He blinked and held his eyes wide. “Is this the e-entrance to the expressway c-coming up?”

She stared at him. “What’s wrong? You can’t see that?”

“S-stabbed…with…n-needle.” The words stuck to his tongue like flypaper.

“Yeah, it’s a little past the next light, but hurry.” Her pointing finger seemed to bob up and down. “That signal’s already yellow.”

Chapter 17

“Remember that line about a beautiful friendship? Right after Ingrid Bergman and her husband fly off to Lisbon and Humphrey Bogart joins up with the Frenchman? It gives the audience hope.” Cath bit her lip, switching her gaze from the dilapidated highway to Mitch in the driver’s seat. Who would have thought they agreed on a favorite old movie?

“That’s the best line in the movie.” Mitch slowly turned his head to look at her. Too slowly. He had to still be a little woozy from that encounter with the syringe. She’d offered to drive once they’d lost the SUV on the expressway, but he’d claimed to be fine then. “Just keep talking to me,” he’d said.

“You’re still moving awful slow.” She’d been holding onto her good-luck charm for what seemed like hours. Afraid to let go in case he keeled over, she tightened her hold now. “You sure you don’t want me to take over?”

“You don’t know where we’re going.”

She shrugged. “You could give me directions.”

“I’m good.”

He’d stopped slurring. And hesitating. He must really be recovering. She glanced at the track of the headlight beams. Yup, still water there instead of a shoulder. She lifted the seat belt and arched her back. “How much farther is this fishing camp place?”

“We’re close.” Mitch kept his gaze on the road.

“You said that fifteen minutes ago.”

“We’re even closer now.”

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