Page 154 of The Wrong Play

My body was still humming from the sprint, my lungs still burning, and my hands were braced on my knees as I tried to decide whether I was screwed or justmildlyscrewed.

The lead guy finally took a slow step forward, and I straightened, trying to look less like a guy who was two seconds from dropping dead of exhaustion and more like a guy absolutely ready to throw hands.

News flash…I was absolutelynotready to throw hands.

“All right, gentlemen,” I said, voice steady despite the fact that I could literally hear my own heartbeat in my ears. “I think I’ve passed this one, we should call it good.”

They said nothing.

I sighed dramatically. “Great. That’s exactly the answer I was hoping for.”

My gaze flicked to the gas pumps. Then to the rusty old truck parked beside them, its driver inside the store.

And then—to the set of keys hanging right from the ignition.

Bingo. I bolted for the truck, and shouts rang out…footsteps pounding after me.

I threw myself at the driver’s side door, yanking it open so fast it nearly took me with it. My foot hit the step, my hands gripping the wheel, my other hand slapping the lock down.

Just as one of them grabbed the handle.

Too late,sucker.

I twisted the keys—and the engine roared to life.

The guy outside yanked on the door hard, and I shifted into drive, slamming my foot down so that the truck lurched forward, jerking him off-balance.

I wasn’t usually one forGrand Theft Auto…but also, don’t leave your keys in your vehicle at a shady gas station at two in the morning. That’s just common sense.

The bell above the gas station door jingled, and I barely had time to process it before a voice bellowed from behind me. “HEY! WHAT THE HELL—THAT’S MY TRUCK!”

Shit.

I could hear the guy storming out of the store and the unmistakable sound of a six-pack thunking to the ground as he realized his ride was peeling out of the parking lot without him.

“SON OF A BITCH!” he roared, and yeah—he was not happy.

Which was fair. But in my defense, I was dealing with some larger issues at the moment.

I floored it, speeding out of the lot as the masked freaks lurked by the pumps, watching as I made my escape.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t that lucky.

I took the first turn out of the gas station, gripping the wheel as I barreled down a back road, my heart still hammering. The truck rumbled like an earthquake, the shocks barely hanging on, and the check engine light flicked on in a way that made me genuinely concerned that this thing might just die mid-escape.

But I didn’t have time to dwell on it, because, sure enough—headlights appeared behind me.

They were following. Of course they were.

“Satan’s left tit,” I muttered, adjusting my grip, scanning the road ahead. I didn’t have a long-term plan yet, but I had a short-term one.

Step one: Get the hell off the main roads…and figure out how to get to campus.

Step two: Get this truck close enough to campus that I could ditch it without immediately being tackled by campus security.

A sharp turn loomed ahead, and I took it too fast, the back tires skidding. Gravel sprayed up as the truck bounced onto an unpaved path, jostling me like I was on a fucking mechanical bull.

I gritted my teeth, barely keeping the thing straight. The road was narrow, winding, more of a suggestion than an actual road, but it was exactly what I needed—thick trees, fewer eyes, and plenty of room to lose my new fan club.

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