We’ve stopped at a black Audi—one of the flashy ones. I guess it belongs to Oscar. He opens the right rear door. “Scoot all the way to the other side,” he says.

For a split second, I feel all the other Bobbys, stuck exactly where I am. And some of us take an automatic step back. I can feel other Bobbys turn and run. This one doesn’t. This one’s stuck.

I slide across the warm leather, feeling like I’m in a horror movie.

“Tripp, front passenger’s seat,” Oscar orders.

I watch his big body fold into the seat, catch his eye for just a moment as he glances back at me. He buckles his seatbelt. I guess I should do the same?

“Face the front!” Oscar snaps, and I nearly jump through the roof. He gets in behind Tripp and points his gun at me.

“What are you going to do with us?”

Oscar smiles, but he doesn’t bother making it warm. “Like I’ve said, we’re just going to talk.”

“I didn’t see anything besides what I already said.” I’m annoyed my voice sounds shaky.

“I know.”

“And Tripp has nothing to do with it.”

“He chose to involve himself. Now be quiet. Carlos, my place.”

I feel a glimmer of hope. He wouldn’t kill us at his own house, would he? Surely not.

Carlos pulls the car onto Beach Boulevard, and the doors lock automatically—making me jump again.

Oscar says, “I love my car, but I will shoot you in it. Don’t try anything.”

Oh God. I want to cry. I want to turn back time and run from him back at the beach. But the threat against my parents was real enough. Yes, he could have been lying, but he has their real address. Oscar’s obviously a horrible man, so why wouldn’t he kill my parents?

I watch the resorts and hotels slide by outside my window with some small amount of peace. I don’t feel bad about that part of my decision.

I did miscalculate about Tripp. I didn’t think he’d be so…adamant. I definitely didn’t think he’d insist on coming. I thought maybe he’d be able to stay behind and call the cops. But obviously that was stupid; he wouldn’t have left me even if Oscar let him.

I blink at Tripp’s tanned neck, visible through the space between chair and headrest, and I have to bite my cheek to keep back tears.

We’ve passed Three Mile Beach, and now the road is curving in, away from the Gulf. Where exactly does Oscar live? Tripp told me somewhere near my house. I wonder who is there. He wouldn’t really hurt or kill us in front of other people… Unless they’re the sort of people he would do that I front of.

But he has neighbors. If he shot us, there would be some noise. Someone would find out.

Right?

My mind races as we get closer to Whispering Pines. We’re going to be so close to my house. God, my parents. I—they’ve got to be fine. If Oscar was telling the truth, he wouldn’t hurt them, right? Because we came with. Both of us. He got what he wanted.

But what if he’s really some kind of homicidal maniac and he just gets off on killing?

I’m near a panic attack when Tripp turns I his seat to look at me. His eyes are wide and concerned, but he smiles.

“Turn around!” Oscar snaps.

The burst of warmth I feel for Tripp is tempered by a cold glare from Oscar, and my mind is racing again. What is going to happen when we get there? What if Tripp and I are split up? What if we’re put into some kind of soundproof torture basement? What if—

The car jerks violently left, and my heart stops as the Audi careens into on-coming traffic. Carlos is yelling and cursing in Spanish for Tripp to stop, and I realize Tripp has the wheel. He’s trying to wreck us.

The car zigs and zags as he and Carlos wrestle for control. I’ve got my legs drawn up; I’m trying not to scream, but I think I’m screaming anyway. We swerve to miss a minivan, and a Mini swerves to miss us. We nearly drive head first into a Tahoe, and Oscar starts screaming that he’s going to “kills you mother fuckers right now!”

He tries to point his gun at Tripp, but his arm is zigzagging with the car. I cry Tripp’s name, but he can’t do anything. Oscar moved to put the gun right against Tripp’s head, and I lunge. I grab his elbow with both hands and yank. Oscar jerks out of my grasp, nearly jerking me out of my seat, and OMG his gun is on me!

I push his arm just as he pulls the trigger—

Oh fuck, my ears! Oh fuck! Oh God! Oh Jesus. I—they ‘re ringing. But it’s like the thunderous ring of old church bells, and I’m standing right beside them. The car—we’re spinning in slow motion, off the road. Tripp’s still got the wheel, and I can’t tell what Carlos—he’s slumped over in his seat. Oscar is grabbing at me and I’m fighting him off, and we hit a huge bump. The car gets legit airborne, and then we’re heading straight into the pines.

We dodge one, two and oh shit we’re going to—

Everything is spinning. My ears are ringing. Still ringing. I’m having trouble breathing. My neck aches. My chest. I can’t move my legs! No, something—someone is on top of me. Oscar. He’s lying in the space between the two front seats, with his legs in my lap. Carlos is face down on the steering wheel. That’s not ringing I’m hearing; it’s the horn. Tripp is—where’s Tripp!

My car door opens, and I shriek.

“Bobby!” Tripp says.

“Tripp?” It’s him. “Oh, Trip! Oh God! Oh God!” I’m sobbing. Tripp takes me into his arms, and he says, “That was fucking intense.”

I laugh. Hysterically. I’m shaking really hard, oh God…

Tripp pulls me up against him, rubbing my back. “You okay?”

“I guess so,” I sob.

“It’s okay…”

Then he’s jerking me away from the car. I whip my head around, and OH MY GOD, it’s Oscar, crawling out!

“C’mon!”

We lunge into the trees, and not a moment too soon. Oscar starts firing.

“Fuck, this way!”

We head toward the road for a few steps, but that puts us closer to the gunfire. Tripp jerks me the other way, into the relative cover of the trees.

“Run!” I feel his hands push my back, and I try to make my legs move…then we’re loping side-by-side, my hand in his, Tripp jerking me along as the trees careen around us and the gunfire bites the air behind us.

Oh my God…oh my God…we’re gonna die!

I’m panting when I hear Tripp saying, “It’s okay!” He’s saying that as he runs, dragging me along. “It’s okay!” We splash through pools of briny water, are slowed down by underbrush and mud.

I stumble once, and Tripp jerks me so hard, my shoulder burns.

“Keep moving!”

Gunshots just keep coming, and I think my lungs will burst. I just…I can’t breathe.

I spot a thicker copse of pies and grab Tripp’s arm.

“Gotta…stop,” I whisper.

He pulls me into the trees; a strand of moss flutters near my face. I’m shaking so hard. Tripp pulls me against him.

“What do we do?” I wail in a whisper.

“I don’t know.” His voice is low and hoarse; he’s panting, just like me. “Maybe I should try to draw him away.”

“Are you crazy? No way!”

“Those shots he’s firing are all over the place. He’s probably disoriented.”

“No! We’re going to wait until he passes, and then we’re going to make a break for the water. Quietly.”

“We’ll be sitting ducks.”

“That’s why we do it quietly. Try to blend in. Swim underwater.”

“There are alligators!”

I hiss, “We have to do something!” Oscar is close. He’s not shooting, but he calling for us.

“I’ll draw him away—”

“No I will.”

“Bobby—”

“It makes the most sense. You can sneak up behind him while I distract him. You’re a lot stronger than me.”

“Or I could lead him away and you could run back to the road and get help.”

“There’s no time,” I whisper. “He’s right here.”

“I know you’re here somewhere!” Oscar calls from literally ten feet to our right.

“WE ARE!”

I jump out, streaking through the forest; a shot rings out, but it doesn’t hit me. I duck left, right, I zig-zag, I try to stay behind trees. Oscar, somewhere behind me, fires another shot that doesn’t hit me. I risk a glance over my shoulder—OOOF.

I tripped. Fuck! I pick myself up, turn around, and Oscar is only ten yards behind me. He’s not running. Oh shit, he’s pointing his gun at me…

Tripp tackles him from behind, and the gun fires as he falls. I actually feel the bullet whiz by. “Fuck!” I rush to grab the gun from Oscar’s hand while Tripp is on his back, pushing his face into the mud.

Somehow I get it. Tripp rolls Oscar onto his back. “You’re both dead,” Oscar snarls. “You’re both—oopmh!”

Tripp kneed him in the stomach, and now he’s sitting on Oscar’s chest. He punches Oscar in the face once. Twice. Three times. Four times. He’s still punching. He’s not stopping. Oscar is definitely out.

“Tripp!” I grab his arm as he’s pulling back for another blow. Tripp stands up quickly. He shakes his right hand. “Sorry,” he says, sounding slightly dazed. “I was really pissed that he tried to kill us.”

“I don’t blame you,” I laugh. Oh my God, is this real life? So fucking crazy…

Tripp bends down to check Oscar’s pulse. “He’s not waking up for a while. You got his gun?”

I offer it to Tripp. “I have no idea what to do with this,” he says, but he takes it anyway. “I guess we should make sure Carlos is good and thoroughly dead.”

“And call the police,” I say, my voice a shrill echo as our feet crunch pine needles.

“Yeah—that.”

Tripp’s arm hovers around my back as we move through the woods. “Okay?” he asks.

“Yeah—you?”

There’s blood dripping from his nose. And he’s got a nasty bruise on his temple from where Carlos hit him.

“I’m good.”

I laugh, because…this shit is crazy.

We walk back to the Audi, finding Carlos where we left him, and within seconds, we hear sirens.

“I guess the cops were already called.”

Tripp grabs my arm, then wraps his hand around my hand; my fingers welcome his. “That was a pretty badass, stupid, dangerous move, drawing Oscar’s fire,” he says.

“That was a pretty badass move to tackle him,” I say. “And wrecking the car.”

“Inspired, right?” he asks. “I’m glad you were wearing your seatbelt.”

He looks at me. I look at him. He leans down and kisses me, and I return it hungrily. We’re both sweaty and shaking. I can taste the tang of blood, but I don’t care. I pull him closer.

Tripp breaks the kiss and grins down at me. “Remember that joke I’ve made twice before, about how I wonder if the danger we’ve experienced has made you rethink your no sex policy?”

I laugh. “Maybe.”