Finlay Donovan Knocks 'Em Dead(Finlay Donovan #2)(90)

A dark laugh rumbled out of him. “See, that’s the funny thing. I’m already off the road. Because your damn van just gave up the ghost, and now I’m stranded somewhere in bumfuck, waiting for a goddamn tow!”

No. No, no, no! I put my foot down hard on the accelerator. It felt like I’d just kicked seven hundred horses into a run. Trees rushed by. G-forces pulled me back against the seat as the Aston hugged the turns in the winding roads. “Steven, where are you? Just give me a street name or a landmark. I’m on my way. Stay in the van and lock the doors. I’m coming right now!” He’d probably followed the same route Vero and I took to get here. If I doubled back, I’d find him. He couldn’t be far.

“Are you kidding me? Your nanny clocked me on the head, Finlay! I’m probably concussed! You took me hostage, gagged me, and abandoned me in some crap motel. Don’t you get it? You’re the last person I want to see right now!”

“Wait. I think I see you.” Yellow hazard lights flashed from the shoulder of the road ahead. I released a held breath as I recognized the familiar grille of my van. Steven paced alongside it with his back to me. I let off the gas, my heart rate decelerating in time with the car.

“Thank god,” Steven said under his breath, “the tow truck is here. I’ve got to go.” I watched him step out into the road, waving his free hand at a set of oncoming headlights closing in from the opposite direction. A cold dread hit me as the other vehicle began to slow.

“That’s not the tow truck, Steven. Get back in the van!”

“We’ll finish this conversation tomorrow with Guy.”

I shouted into the phone as he disconnected and tucked his cell in his pocket. Shielding his eyes from the glare of the car’s headlights, he flagged the other driver down. The car passed him with its turn signal on, easing to a stop about fifty yards ahead of the van. I sped up, squinting against the car’s high beams as I flew past him, groping for the right button to roll my window down. Steven stumbled back as the Aston screeched to a halt beside him.

“Get in!” I shouted.

His eyes went wide. “Where the hell did you get that car?”

“Never mind that! Just get in!”

He turned his back on me, throwing up his hands. “Go home, Finlay.”

“Steven!” I put the Aston in reverse, matching his pace as he walked toward the other vehicle. “The person in that car is going to try to kill you. You have to come with me. Right now!”

“You are a real piece of work, Finlay. You know that?” Steven kept walking as I reversed slowly alongside him.

“Steven, please,” I begged him, reaching for his arm through the open window.

He shook me off. “I knew you were nuts when you left me in that motel room, but this? This is…” Steven stopped walking. I braked as he grabbed my sleeve. “What the hell is that on your hand? Is that blood?”

“I don’t have time to explain.” A figure stepped out of the other car. Steven followed the direction of my stare and waved to the driver, holding up a finger, asking him to wait. The man raised his hand, too. He pointed it toward us.

“Get down, Steven!” I threw my car door open hard, catching Steven in the groin as the driver’s gun fired. Steven doubled over into the open window as the bullet whizzed past his head.

Steven’s eyes flew open wide as another bullet hit the asphalt by his feet.

“Get in the goddamn car!” I shrieked. I threw the car in drive as Steven scurried around the hood and scrambled into the passenger seat, his face incredulous.

“Did you see that? That guy just tried to shoot me!”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to tell you?”

“I didn’t think you were serious!”

“Seat belt!” I shouted in my mom-voice as a bullet struck the back window. I hit the gas pedal hard, leaving a trail of rubber. Taillights flashed behind me as the other driver got in his car and made a three-point turn in the road.

Steven buckled himself in. “Holy shit, Finn. This is a fucking Aston Martin!”

“I know what it is, Steven.”

“Just, tell me the truth. Where’d you get the car?”

“It’s not important. Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“Just do it!”

He handed it over. I powered it off and pitched it out the window. Steven opened his mouth to argue, snapping it closed when I held up a stern finger. When the speedometer climbed over a hundred, he pressed back in his seat. “You’re going a little fast. Maybe you should slow down.”

“Now is not the time to criticize my driving!”

“Right. Sorry.” He twisted to look behind us. “I see his high beams. I think he’s following us.”

“Did you get a look at him back there when he passed you?”

“No, his brights were on. Looked like a sedan. Maybe a Chevy.”

Joey drove a Chevy sedan. But so did a lot of people. “What color?”

“I don’t know. It was dark. And I don’t want to let him get close enough to find out.” Steven turned back to the windshield, ducking his head to check out our surroundings. “There’s going to be a blind intersection on your left, about a mile ahead. If you can make the turn before he rounds the bend, shut your lights off. Maybe we can shake him.”