Page 59 of Up In Smoke

She hit the buttons frantically, opening first one app and then another. She struggled to find breath and to work her phone at the same time. She needed the map. She needed it to trace her.

But Carlos finally let go of her neck because he was reaching for the phone. She bucked against him, trying to slam her heel down onto his foot, but he was fast and anticipated her moves far too easily. The arm around her waist continued to grow tighter, pinning her other arm down.

She could fight—which she was clearly not going to win—or she could try something else.

Ivy dropped, going limp. As Carlos fought to hold onto her, she collapsed forward, hiding the phone from him and hitting the button for her map. The screen lit up the night, but she had no hope anyone was nearby to see her struggle.

He got his arm around her and hauled her back upright, hurting her ribs as she tried so hard to stay limp. Relaxing her muscles went against every fight or flight instinct she had.

Though she tried to hold the phone out, Carlos still managed to grab it. Squeezing hard, his fingers covered her grip on the device like a vise until she felt her bones would break.

Tossing her head back suddenly, she hoped to make contact with his nose. But he managed to turn his head to the side and all she got was the back of her head to his jaw.

As he uttered out, “Bitch!” he grabbed even tighter, making her cry out in pain as her fingers flew open. He managed to snatch the phone and she watched hopelessly as he tossed it into the grass.

Aiming again for surprise, Ivy tried to elbow him in the side with her now free arm, but he caught her hand. Grabbing for her wrist, he clamped her hand between his thumb and forefinger, which shouldn't have been difficult to get out of, but he'd found a pressure point. He pressed until she felt nausea roll through her belly then he twisted until she cried out.

His mouth came in close to her ear, hot breath making her squeeze her eyes shut in disgust as he tightened his hold on her ribs and her arm until he whispered. “Luke is sleeping. I drugged him. There's paraffin all around your house.”

He dragged out the last words, knowing it would make her cringe.

“But more importantly, Mario is standing by, and he'll light it as soon as I give the word. So you're going to calmly climb into the passenger seat of my car, and we are going to go for a little ride.”

Jesus, he would burn his own brother?

But Carlos held up his phone and showed her a string of texts.

— Are you ready?

— Yeah, man.

Mario had sent back.

Son of a bitch.

“Now,” he said, “I'm going to let go and you're not going to try anything.”

Though he loosened his grip slightly, he didn't let go of her. He walked her awkwardly toward the car, his feet propelling hers, his front pressed against her back, still holding on. He directed her every move over to the passenger side of his car, where he opened the door and pushed her down into the seat.

With a sarcastic motion for her to get every spare limb inside, Carlos made it clear he would slam the door on any fingers or feet that weren’t accounted for. Ivy reached for the seatbelt, pulling it across her body and buckling herself in as she tried desperately to think of her options. He was in the driver's seat before she could develop any concrete plan.

Pulling forward, he then swung a dramatic arc backward, just missing the corner of her car. It might have been better if he’d hit it, if there was some evidence of damage. Instead, he turned completely around and headed down the gravel drive, leaving her car there as though she had simply wandered off … at one of the sites Luke regularly checked.

Would Luke find her car here tomorrow?

Would they find her phone in the grass?

This would break Luke’s heart. Carlos was the baby, and whatever was wrong with him, he’d hidden it expertly for all these years. Both Luke and Tiago seemed to have no idea. And she was so stupid.

“You figuring me out?” he asked with a sly smile and his eyes glancing her way.

Ivy wanted to say yes, but she couldn’t be sure.

On the main road, he picked up speed and Ivy sat demurely with her hands clasped in her lap. She didn't even have her bag. No small pocket knife tucked into the corner pocket. She carried it every day, even though she wouldn't have let a patron bring one into the library. She had no phone, not even a pen with which to reach across the seat and jab into his neck.

But, she thought, she could reach across and grab the steering wheel. Didn't she know that rule?Never let them take you to a secondary location.

If they tried you were supposed to crash the car.

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