A Harmless Little Game (Harmless #1)(47)

“GOOD GIRL. STAY WITH ME. YOU’RE GONNA FEEL A BUMP. HOLD ON.”

His SUV is in front of me now as we race and twist, the road like that old-fashioned Christmas ribbon candy. All I can do is sway and drive, sway and drive, sway and drive. My butt hurts and my thighs are screaming from pushing the brake over and over, like it’ll magically kick in. My head feels like it’s on fire and I’m inching up to seventy-five, seventy-six, seventy-seven...

“I’M ABOUT TO LET YOUR BUMPER HIT MINE, LINDSAY.”

“WHAT?” I nearly pee my pants. “YOU’RE GOING TO CRASH INTO ME?”

“NO. I’M GOING TO SLOW YOU DOWN. JUST KEEP STEERING. STAY WITH ME. STAY WITH ME, BABY. YOU CAN DO THIS.”

Baby.

Baby.

My stomach heaves again, but this time from emotion. Baby. Drew used to call me baby. It was his pet name for me, a word he used when he stroked my face, when he kissed me under the moonlight at the beach, when we cuddled around a bonfire.

And now, when we’re racing toward a fiery crash of death.

My body whiplashes as the front of my little Honda Fit crashes into the back of his enormous SUV. My hood buckles. I’m wedged under his back bumper.

“YOU OKAY?” he screams.

“I’M HERE.”

“ALL RIGHT, BABY. LET’S MAKE THIS WORK. POLICE ARE ON THEIR WAY. LET’S DO IT.”

The grind of metal against metal splits my eardrums, the jolt of car against SUV creating a kinetic energy that ripples through me. It’s the biggest shockwave you can imagine, followed by a maddeningly itchy vibration. My car groans, and the speedometer changes fast. My head feels like someone snapped it off.





Chapter 33





Forty-nine.

“HOW WE DOING?”

I feel the rear tire do something weird. The car wiggles in the back, and then takes a sharp yank to the right. I’m barely attached to Drew’s SUV. The car starts to pitch down, from behind.

“WHAT IS HAPPENING?” Drew shouts.

I look back. The oceanside road has gotten narrower and steeper. The back of the car is hanging off the cliff.

“BACK OF CAR! CLIFF! OH MY GOD!” I can’t think straight, can’t make a coherent sentence.

Forty-seven miles per hour.

Drew suddenly pulls to the left, just as a car comes in the opposite direction. The screech of tires, loud honking, and the sharp blow of my elbow against the door handle lead to a mixture of sensations that make the world start to spin.

“LINDSAY!” he screams.

I look at the dashboard.

Forty-three miles per hour.

“WE’RE SLOWING!” I say.

“KEEP TALKING, BABY! I NEED TO KNOW YOU’RE SAFE!”

My left arm is numb, the nerves screaming from the blow. I can’t close my left hand into a fist, which means I’m down to steering with my right hand and have to lean my left forearm on the steering wheel for support. An already bad situation is now impossibly worse.

Forty-one miles per hour.

Lights flash behind me, red and blue, blinding me. I focus on the back of Drew’s SUV.

“THERE’S A TRUCK EMERGENCY RAMP UP AHEAD, LINDSAY. I’M AIMING US FOR IT. THE ROAD IS ABOUT TO DIP DOWN AND WE CAN’T KEEP GOING. THE RAMP GOES UP AND WE STOP FAST. GET READY.”

Get ready for what? I want to ask, but my mouth won’t make words right now.

Forty miles per hour.

Drew turns the SUV to the right and oh, God, it feels like he’s driving us right off the road, but then I see we’re on an incline, heading up, spraying gravel everywhere, the sound of brakes like metal shrieking, like the machines are screaming. How can we head up? I see blue sky. Nothing but blue. How can this— BANG! POP!

White balloons smother me and that’s all I remember as I lurch forward, the seat belt cutting into my breasts, my neck snapping back and then I am on the pillows and the white fades, the sound fades—it all fades.

I fade.





Chapter 34





Someone is throwing rocks around against my skull. They need to stop. The pain is so bad I’m going to throw up. I start to gag, then take in a big breath. I can’t. Something’s covering my mouth. My throat spasms and I claw at the space in front of me, finding wetness and plastic and pain.

Drew.

Where’s Drew?

“MMMMMMMmmmmmmuuuhhhh,” I say, the sound like a Doppler effect, like the sound of my body dying as it’s flung across hundreds of yards. I push on the plastic and the wetness peels away, air filling my mouth like ice turned into open space. Cold needles poke my lungs.

I breathe.

“Lindsay!” Hot breath against my ear. A warm, strong hand on my shoulder. Fingers on my brow. I inhale again and still see nothing but white.

“Dooo?” I can’t say his name right.

“I’m here, baby. I’m here.” He paws at the white plastic and my eyes start to focus. It’s not all white. Smears of dark liquid cover the plastic as he peels it off my neck and chest. The scent of copper fills the air.

It’s blood.

My blood.

I breathe through my mouth. My nose won’t accept air. Blue and red lights flash in a pattern and suddenly, the air is full of noise. My mouth tastes like metal. The tip of my tongue runs along my top teeth. The end of one canine tooth feels jagged, like I chipped it.