Where I Started the Story
So we’re up to speed now, aren’t we, you and me? This is where I started. Driving like a bat out of hell with goons on my ass and Marilyn on my lap.
You didn’t think she’d be the killer, did you? Yeah, me neither, but Lorenz Maldonado knows that Marilyn Fields, aka Leslie Detweiler, killed his sadistic little brother Franco. And now you know I didn’t kill anyone.
Hell, everyone BUT Franco is alive. Well, probably that waiter is dead, Franco did him in I’d bet. And Donny Barchek teamed up with Franco to pin it all on me, the same Donny Barchek who is also very fucking alive.
Let me give you a refresher on who’s after us. Antonio Maldonado or his kids. Antonio is the big cheese, the boss hog, the kingpin of one crooked Vegas operation. And he seems to enjoy pitting his sons against each other to see who the favorite is as heir of the casino in Vegas and Dubai. Right now, Franco’s most definitely out of the running, so it’s either Dom or Lorenz.
If Daddy finds out that Lorenz helped us run after Marilyn – uh, Leslie, she wants me to call her Leslie now – after Leslie stabbed Franco, he’ll be out of the running too. He helped us out of the hotel, but I have no idea how far that kindness will extend. He has the hots for Leslie for sure. So much so that he let her get away. I’ve got issues with that, or I might; if Leslie wants Lorenz, things could get even uglier.
So some flavor of Maldonado sent the goons that I knew were in the car behind us. Leslie’s nap was going to have to be over. I tugged at her seat belt because to lose them I’d need to do some evasive driving. And she’d have to help. I felt a pang having to wake her, but what are you going to do? All hands on deck – or on the steering wheel, in this case.
I sped up. The lights got closer. My truck was no match for the fast little sedan they were driving. A check of the rearview and I figured two guys. It was dark so I couldn’t see faces, but they were getting closer and closer to my back bumper. I hadn’t floored it, but I would have to soon. I squeezed Leslie’s shoulder a little more rigorously
“Lincoln.”
“Yeah baby, you’re going to have to help me out.” And bam, there was a nudge to my back bumper from the car on our tail. That woke her up, which was good because it was time to get aggressive.
“What do you need me to do?”
“I’m going to shoot their windshield out and maybe their tires but I have to turn around and aim. You understand?”
“I need to steer, got it, can you still do the pedals?”
“If I’m fast enough, yes. Let’s just concentrate on you steering this truck. I’m going to slow down, they’ll pull closer and pow. Got it? Hold it steady and make sure you don’t drive us off the road. And try to keep your head down.”
“I can’t see if I do that.” She had a point there. Leslie inched up and got her hands on the steering wheel and sat up all the way.
“Start steering. I’m going to need my hands.” She steered and I reached for the weapon I’d had under the seat. I turned fast and aimed quicker.
I didn’t want to blow out my own window, no time for repairs, so I slid it open started shooting. No preamble. Sometimes fortune favors the bold.
The first shot exploded their windshield and made it tough for them to see, so they swerved. The second one was about getting their tires. If I could slow them down with a windshield and tires, we could put a gap between us.
I shot two more times; the first one missed the tire, but the second clipped the driver’s side back wheel. I saw rubber fly and the car skid completely off the road.
“You got ‘em!!!” Leslie squealed.
I turned back to the job of driving and she let go of the wheel. I was damned proud of Leslie. To look at her, you wouldn’t think she could do a damn thing, all curves and blond hair, but she could stay calm and steer without a million instructions from me. I told her as much.
“You stayed straight as an arrow babe, it was a team effort.” I looked in the rear-view and the car with our two new friends was fading in the dark and dust. I would need to get out our map and plot some twists and turns. I was taking the most fucked up route in the world to get to Montana. We’d take as long as we needed. Every moment of distance between us and those two goons was another moment alive.
Speaking of alive, Leslie had not buckled her seatbelt. That pissed me off to no end. “Get that shoulder seatbelt on. Fun’s over.”
“Not quite,” she said. Leslie slid her hand up my shirt and nuzzled into my side. I had no defense. Her nose drew a path up my neck, and she put her lips in my ear. I wanted her so bad I could have pulled the truck over, no matter what I thought was following us. Taking her right now on the side of the road would be a dumb move. That was me talking to my dick, by the way.
“Thank you for letting me help back there, Lincoln. I can do more than what you think I can, okay?” She was making a serious case for her competence and against my overprotectiveness, I realized.
Her body pressed into mine, her lips in my ear. She could have whispered anything in my ear with her hot breath and I would have agreed. As soon as she figured that out, I was really fucked.
“You’re welcome. Get that map out of the back and then buckle your seatbelt.” If I gave into her distraction right now, we were as good as dead. I put my hand on her hip and slid her to her side. Then she did as I asked. I stole a glance as she squirmed around to the back, her ass in the air as she leaned over to the back seat of the cab. God help me.
“Okay, all belted in. What am I looking at?” Her big eyes blinked up at me. I wanted that mouth, did I ever, but not now. Not now. Again that’s me, telling parts of me to get it under control.
“Small rural road, we’re going to go north, maybe a little northwest. What do we see? Options?”
She flipped on the overhead light and started studying. We’d have to stop in a few hours. I’d hoped we’d put enough space between us and the thugs who were chasing us.
I definitely did not have enough space between me and her lips. The two of us were headed in one direction, no map required for that.