Page 34 of Lone Star

Jinx took TJ from Jeannie, and made a face when Michelle offered to take him. “I got him,” he said, and slung the backpack full of all his toys, Pull-ups, and snacks over his other shoulder.

Sometimes, she was damn glad of big men with broad shoulders.

Jinx even had the car seat down pat, buckling TJ in with a few deft movements. TJ’s head lolled and he was asleep almost immediately.

“You’re good at that,” Michelle said, smiling tiredly. “Preparing for little ones of you own soon?”

“No.” He said it so emphatically that she laughed – and then smothered it in her hand to keep from waking TJ.

“I’ll follow you,” Jinx said. “You good to drive?” He looked at her critically, one arm braced on the roof of her Challenger.

She squared up her shoulders and nodded. “I’m fine.” She didn’t want him to have to leave his bike here and bum a ride to pick it up tomorrow. Given the goings-on lately, he might need it before then.

She buckled in, started the engine, locked her doors, and checked her phone. Still no word from Candy. She fired off a quick text to let him know she was headed home, and then backed out of her reserved space. Jinx’s headlamp pulled up behind her, and then they were off.

When it happened, it of course happened after they’d left downtown behind. It happened on a stretch of empty road, because that’s always where terrible things happened.

Michelle checked her rearview mirror every so often, an old habit, checking that the single, bright eye of Jinx’s headlamp still followed. She did it the same way she would occasionally touch the hilt of a knife she carried; a thoughtless reflex. She drove with one hand, her free elbow resting on the window ledge, not in danger of falling asleep, but melting a bit like ice cream on a warm day. She wanted home, and comfortable pants, and her favorite spot on the couch. Maybe, if she hadn’t drifted off, Candy would arrive home, soon, and they could–

She did another check – and then a double-check. Something was wrong.

Someone was passing them. This was a long, flat, straight stretch of road, and the center line was a broken one; let your speed drop at all, and some wanker would go hurtling around you, as if jet-propelled. Michelle knew a moment’s panic when she saw a set of headlights rear up behind her, coming alongside Jinx in the oncoming lane, but she knew she was driving slowly. It was only someone passing. No need to–

The passing car swerved sharply to the right.

Jinx’s headlamp swerved, too – and then buckled, and was gone, somewhere along the shoulder. The passing car settled in his place behind her, high-beams – sitting tall; it was a truck of some sort – blasting through her back window, striking white fires in all her mirrors.

Michelle was suddenly very, very awake.

She sat bolt upright, both hands gripping the wheel tight, heart leaping. God, Jinx…

But she couldn’t think of him now, because the headlights were roaring up behind her, closer and closer. The glare in the mirrors was blinding; she had to squint against it.

It would overtake her, and then what? Run her off the road? Rear-end her?

Oh God, oh God, she thought. And then:No.

Fox had been with her when she’d bought this car, and he’d insisted she upgrade and get the Hemi.

The truck bearing down on her might be big, even suped-up; might be fast and powerful.

But it wasn’t a muscle car.

She let out a deep breath, and punched the gas.

The engineroared. The wide rear tires grabbed, andpushed. It was too dark to see the evidence of her acceleration flashing past the windows, but a gap opened up between her and the truck, as the tachometer flipped wildly and the Challenger cycled up through its gears.

Butthenwhat was she supposed to do? At the midway point between home and work, there was no bit of salvation waiting on the side of the road. Pulling over, stopping, would only open an opportunity for a fate worse than a car crash.

Maybe she could outrun him outright. Maybe…

But, no, the truck was gaining again. She’d bought herself some time, but…

An idea occurred. The kind of crazy, unsafe, unlikely to succeed idea that hit like lightning in the midst of awful panic. But it was the only idea she had, so she took tight hold of it.

All the logical, Devin Green parts of her brain were screaming the same thing at her, pointing out the same ratio. She was in a low-slung, wide-bodied car built to hug the road. The truck bearing down on her was tall, too tall; the kind of jacked-up truck teenage boys took mudding. Of the two vehicles, one had a significant stability advantage.

She steeled herself, sent up a little prayer, edged her car halfway across the center line, and stepped on the brake.

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