Page 97 of Tangled Up

“This girl who does my nails said I should do that.” Her tone is contrite. “She thought it would get your attention.”

“It got my chief’s attention. Now you’ve kidnapped me.”

The car falls quiet again. I study the green signs saying we’re approaching Orangeville, and I realize we’re close to Tampa. I haven’t been watching her speed, but she’s going faster than I thought if we’ve made it this far. Looking over my shoulder, I wonder if I can manage to get my seatbelt on while wearing handcuffs.

When Alize finally breaks the silence, her voice is sad. “So you’re not going to help me?”

“I’ll do whatever I can to help you, Alize. I’ve said that over and over, even when you were in custody. Now you have to face facts. A judge isn’t going to give you full custody after all of this, and kidnapping me is only making it worse. You have to help me help you. What’s happening right now is not helping either of us.”

She blinks several times, almost like she’ll cry again. I’m not sure I’m buying her tears, but I know she’s smart. If she’s listening to me, she knows I’m right.

“What should I do?”

“You can start by giving me the key to these handcuffs.”

She nods quickly. “I can do that. Next time we stop. I put the keys in my suitcase, right up front. You just open that zipper part at the top.”

Stretching in my place, I peer over the seat. “Is that it there?” I nod to the case on the backseat.

“Uh-huh.” She nods, looking up in the mirror. “Oh, no. This is too soon.”

I’m doing my best to stretch my hands over the seat when the car abruptly accelerates and she exits the Interstate fast. I fly over the seat, hitting the floorboard with an oof! I’m pretty sure I bruised a rib hitting the barrier in the back.

“Slow down, Alize!” I yell, but she’s going even faster now, passing cars on the shoulder and flying into the dark night.

“They found us. They’re chasing us like Thelma and Louise!”

My stomach pits, and I struggle to sit up. “We’re not in a movie. This is real. Slow down and let them catch up to us.”

“I’m not going to jail. I’m going all the way!”

She abruptly swerves onto a two-lane road, and we’re flying away, further into the country where there are fewer houses and more pastures. It’s good, but it’s also harder to see, and the road quality is poor.

I struggle to use my fingers and my teeth to unzip the front pocket of the small suitcase. We hit railroad tracks, and I fall to the floor again, gasping in pain.

“Please stop, Alize!”

But she only accelerates faster. I’m digging in the small suitcase, finally landing my fingers on what feels like a key.

Alize isn’t talking anymore, but she’s driving faster. Using my teeth, I slip the key into the small slot on the right handcuff and do my best to turn it as we bounce over more tracks, flying through traffic signals.

My stomach is in my throat. I manage to get one cuff off. I’m sitting on the floorboard in the backseat, twisting my wrist briefly before grabbing the key and inserting it into the slot on the other.

“Pull the vehicle to the side of the road!” My head jerks up when I hear a male voice blasting through a speaker behind us.

My heart beats so hard, it hurts. I’ve just got the key in the slot, and I’m turning it when Alize screams. “NO! Don’t—”

I fall forward on the floorboard as the world seems to upend itself. My back presses against the floor then gravity disappears, and I’m on a ride, flying up to the roof of the car, arms and legs grasping in midair. The handcuffs sling out the window as everything drops, and I’m slammed against the floorboard again. I can’t catch my breath. It’s like I’m in a clothes dryer, tumbling over and over.

With nothing to hold onto, I wrap my arms around my knees and duck my head, bracing for impact. I’ve lost all orientation.

Alize is in the driver’s seat jerking side to side like a crash test dummy, and I wonder if she’s okay. I wonder if she’s dead.

It’s my last thought before my head slams against the side of the car and everything goes black.

CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT

BECK

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