Page 77 of Stay in Your Lane!

He had, too. That random mental derailment jarred me enough that I was able to refocus instead of flailing.

I looked around. “Okay, so we need another car. Let’s…” I pursed my lips. We were in a rural area now, so it wasn’t like we could just vanish into a Wal-Mart parking lot. And there wouldn’t be a lot of cars out right now anyway since it was fuck-this-thirty in the morning. So we?—

Everett veered off the road, and for a split second, I thought we were about to crash into the ditch. But no, he took us down a driveway toward a dark ranch-style house similar to my own.

“What are youdoing?”I asked in a harsh whisper as if I might wake the occupants.

“They’re the only ones on the street with their trash cans still out,” he said as he slowed to a stop in front of their garage. “Whoever’s taking care of the place while they’re out of town isn’t coming by every day.”

I blinked. “They…” I glanced over my shoulder. Okay, yeah, they did have their trash cans out. But that didn’t necessarily mean anything. “I’ve left mine out before just because I’m stupid.”

Everett shrugged, putting the patrol car in park. “If they’re home, we’ll ask if we can borrow the car.”

“Borrow the—are you—” I sputtered. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Give me a minute.”

With that, he got out of the patrol car and strode confidently up to the front door. And he…

“Oh my God,” I muttered, facepalming as he pounded on the door. He was shouting something too.

I craned my neck.

“Hey, we’ve got a bit of an emergency! It’s a long story, but we’ll explain!” Then as he started off the porch, he threw over his shoulder, “I promise I’ll bring it back!”

He disappeared around the back of the house, and I stared, slack-jawed, just waiting for lights to start coming on and an underwear-clad homeowner to burst out with a shotgun.

Behind me, voice muffled by the Plexiglas, Jeff squawked.

“I know, buddy,” I told him. “My boyfriend is crazy.”

That prompted an emphatic meow of agreement. Or maybe he was announcing his displeasure with the situation. Either way, I concurred.

To my utter astonishment, the house’s garage door started to open, the light inside coming on and spilling out into the night. One bay was empty. In the other, there was a late model sedan I couldn’t quite name, and Everett was jogging out with a set of keys in his hand.

He threw open the backseat of the patrol car. “Let’s get the cats! Let’s go!”

“What—did you just—did youbreak into the house?” Oh my God, we were going to jail, weren’t we?

“I didn’t break—okay, technically and legally I did.” He leaned over Jeff’s carrier and unclipped the seat belt. “But I didn’t break anything.”

“Oh. Well.” I got out of the passenger side. “That changes everything, doesn’t it?”

“We have a car that’s not being tracked by evil homicidal cops!”

He… did have a point.

I made sure I still had our guns, then grabbed Patches’ carrier out of the back and followed Everett into the garage.

In under two minutes, he was backing us out of the garage. Then, as the door came down, he drove us back up the driveway and onto the highway, heading in the general direction of home.

“For the record,” he said, “there was a house key under the mat, and the car keys were on a hook by the kitchen door.” He tsked and rolled his eyes. “People really need to learn not to hang their keys by a door. Like, do youwantyour car getting stolen out of your garage? Because that’s how you get your car stolen out of your garage.”

“Let’s not look that gift horse in the mouth, shall we?” I glanced back at the cats. Jeff was complaining, and Patches had joined in. They both peered up at me, displeasure all over their faces. I kind of wished we’d left them in the house where we’d stolen the car. It wouldn’t be ideal and I’d be worried sick about them, but at least they wouldn’t be in here with us, subject to whatever chaos and violence came our way.

“Sorry, guys,” I told them.

Jeff gave a bitchy meow. Patches gave an equally bitchy glare.

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