Full Force. Elle James
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The windows were too darkly tinted to see inside.
A tightening in the pit of Emily’s stomach made her pause before parking. Her heart sped up as she lifted her foot off of the brake and applied it to the accelerator. Instead of turning into her parking space, she whipped through the lot and out the other end of the apartment complex.
As she turned back out onto the road, she glanced into her rearview mirror and saw again the dark sedan pulling out of the parking lot, following her. She raced to the next street and turned.
The blue sedan stayed right on her tail.
Not knowing what to do, she chose a busy thoroughfare and rushed out into the open, hoping and praying the traffic would help put some distance between her and the sedan. Whipping in and out of traffic and dodging vehicles, Emily did manage to put distance between her and her tail. When she thought she’d lost him, she called her friend Grace, using her car’s Bluetooth setup.
Grace answered on the first ring. “Hi, Emily, how’s it going?”
“I think I’m in trouble,” she said, her voice wobbling.
“What kind of trouble?” Grace’s voice was sharp, filled with concern.
“I’m not sure,” Emily said. “I think I’m being followed, and drivers have tried to run me off the road a couple of times in the past hour. I—I can’t go home.”
“Try to stay calm. You know you called the right person,” Grace said. “Charlie’s guys will help. Where are you now?”
Emily glanced around, for the first time aware that she hadn’t headed anywhere in particular, just away from trouble. “I’m on 395. I don’t know where,” she said. “Wait, there’s an exit sign.” She gave Grace her location and then glanced in her mirror once more. “Crap! There he is again,” she said.
“I’m going to text you a map coordinate,” Grace said. “It’s the address of my new employer. Go straight there, I’ll have somebody meet you at the gate.”
A beep sounded on her cell phone. Emily took her eyes off the road long enough to select the coordinates for her map on her phone to follow. She’d slowed just enough that the dark sedan behind her was quickly catching up. While her map application calculated the directions, she again weaved in and out of traffic, trying to lose her tail.
“Stay on the phone with me, Emily,” Grace said. “I have a team of people here at Charlie’s place. They can help you. You just have to get here.”
“I’ll do the best I can,” Emily promised.
She thought she’d been doing well and had lost her tail when she’d finally pulled off the main parkway onto a smaller road. But as soon as the traffic thinned, she looked behind her.
The dark-tinted vehicle was there and speeding up, closing in on her. The road she traveled now was lined with gated driveways. Besides the gates and the driveways, there was nothing else around. No cars. No people. Just her and the sedan that was quickly catching up.
“Are you still with me, Emily?” Grace asked.
“I’m here,” she said. This time when she glanced in her rearview mirror the vehicle behind her was racing toward her back bumper. Emily pressed her foot to the accelerator, shooting her little car forward. Her speed increased from fifty to sixty to seventy miles per hour. A caution sign on the side of the road indicated an upcoming curve, with a recommended speed of twenty-five miles per hour.
Afraid the vehicle behind her would rear-end her and send her flying off the road, Emily didn’t dare slow down. She gripped the steering wheel and raced into the curve at breakneck speed. As she navigated the radius, the rear end of her vehicle fishtailed and swung around. She almost went into a 360-degree spin, was able to correct her direction, but not soon enough to avoid the vehicle following her.
The car behind her slammed into her left rear fender, sending her back into the spin.
Out of her control, her car slid toward the edge of the road.
Emily squealed and held tight to the steering wheel as her vehicle bumped onto the shoulder, down into a ditch and up an embankment, slamming into a fence post. Upon impact, the airbags deployed, forcing her back against her seat, stunning her for a few precious seconds. Emily rubbed the dust out of her eyes and looked around. The fine powder of the airbag coated her skin and clothes and the dash of the vehicle.
In her rearview mirror, she could see the road behind her and the dark sedan parked at the edge. A man dressed in black, with a black ski mask pulled over his head, got out of the driver’s side and stood on the shoulder, staring down at her vehicle.
Emily didn’t move, praying her attacker would think she was unconscious and leave.
When he moved toward her, she couldn’t sit still, she had to get away.
Emily shifted her vehicle into Reverse and hit the accelerator. The rear tires spun, gaining no traction. She couldn’t go forward because of the fence post. She tried turning the steering wheel sharply to the left and hit the accelerator again. The back tire spun, shooting mud up behind her, but the vehicle didn’t budge.
“What’s happening, Emily?” Grace’s voice said over the phone. “What was that noise? Are you okay?”
“No, no, I’m not. I’ve crashed,” Emily managed to croak out as she struggled with what to do. “I have to... I’m getting out...” She couldn’t waste time talking. Escape was her only option.
The man on the side of the road scrambled down into the ditch, moving purposefully toward her. Emily tried to open her door to get out, but the door was jammed. She fumbled with the catch on her seat belt and finally got it loose.
Her pulse pounding loudly against her eardrums, Emily crawled across the console to the other side of the vehicle and pulled the door handle. When the door swung open, she fell out onto the ground, rolled onto her side, bunched her feet and knees up beneath her and rose.
When she raised her head above the car, she could see the man in black standing there, his hand rising, a gun held in his grip.
Emily’s heart leaped to her throat. She ducked back down behind the car as a shot rang out. Glass shattered, raining down from the window above her as Emily lay flat against the earth. The scent of gasoline, tire rubber and the mud beneath her nose filled her senses. But she couldn’t lie there for long. If her pursuer came any closer, he could easily pick her off with his handgun.
Unwilling to die that day, Emily rose onto her hands and knees. Keeping low to the ground, she crawled for the fence, slipped beneath the bottom rail and continued on toward the trees, praying she could find a place to hide until the crazy man following her gave up and went away. Or until Grace’s friends arrived to rescue her.
Frank “Mustang” Ford’s cell phone rang through to the Bluetooth in his truck. Declan O’Neill’s name appeared on the dash screen.
Mustang thumbed the button on his steering wheel to answer.