Protecting Justice (The Justice Series Book 4) (21 page)

“True.” Grey took another left. “But it’s too sloppy to be the president. If he hired someone to kill your sister, the assassin would be a professional, someone who would know that a twenty-eight-year-old senator dropping dead out of nowhere would have an autopsy performed. They would also know that Perisoladol would still be in Heather’s system and call attention to the fact she wasn’t prescribed that drug. A professional assassin would either make sure there was no trace of foul play or they would make sure it looked like a suicide.”

She hadn’t really thought about that. “So you don’t think it’s the president? It had to be someone who knew about her heart condition or found out about it
and
knew that she was looking into the CanAir fiasco. No one fits that profile besides him. Who else would care if she was looking into the plane’s disappearance?”

“Maybe the sloppy murder setup was intentional. Anyone with a computer could figure out a drug that would negatively interact with Heather’s heart condition. Someone had to know about it besides her doctors.”

Headlights appeared in her side mirror. Whoever was following them wasn’t even pretending to stay back anymore. “My sister didn’t want to be seen as imperfect. She didn’t tell anyone. Not me, my dad, or even Jordan, her assistant who was like her best friend, or Jordan’s dad, Carl, who was like a second father to her. None of us knew.”

“Or so everyone claims. Bronco is looking at you now. Is it possible someone is setting you up for this? That someone wants you out of the way so they’re framing you for Heather’s murder?”

She needed another cupcake. “You’re saying the perpetrator made Heather’s murder look like something that someone with more than average IQ would pull off, but not like a professional hit; in order to frame me?”

“Next of kin are always the top suspects in this type of investigation.”

“And I’m her twin sister. Why wouldn’t she tell me about the heart problem, right?”

“Exactly. Bronco thinks you’re lying about not knowing about Heather’s condition, and since he has no idea about the investigation she was looking into, he has no other solid lead.”

“Even if he did, he’s not going after the president.”

“Probably not a good career move.” Grey’s jaw was jumping. He glanced in his rearview. “Your seatbelt’s secure, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Hang on,” he said and cranked the wheel.

Tires squealed, the car did a U-ey in the road. Before Fallyn could gulp a breath, Grey slammed his foot down on the accelerator and they shot off down another half-deserted street, street lamps here and there flickering to life.

The inertia flattened her back into the seat. She grabbed hold of the door and gritted her teeth. Buildings flew by on her right, the solarized street lights—at least the ones not broken in this part of town—zipped across the Charger’s hood. The in-dash navigation system lit up with an incoming call. Caller ID read Tony’s name.

Grey flew around a curve and used voice activation to answer. “Where the hell are you, Gerard?”

“A mile or so behind you.” Fallyn’s heart fluttered at the sound of his voice. “Closing in fast.”

The car tailing them was gaining on them, the headlights shining high up and into their vehicle. It had to be a truck or SUV.

“What should I do?” she asked Grey.

Grey shook his head at her, spoke to Tony. “SOB’s not hiding anymore. He wants us to know he’s there.”

“Whoever it is, he means business, then,” Tony said. “We need to get you back into a safer part of town and take this guy out. I’ll run interference as soon as I catch up to you.”

The lights that had been in her side mirror disappeared, and the truck slid up Grey’s side as it continued to gain on them. It was running on oversized tires and sporting a roll bar. Grey’s speedometer was almost pegged.

“Shit’s about to get serious, Fallyn.” Grey shot her a quick glance. “Follow my instructions and don’t ask questions, got it?”

He sounded just like Tony. She forced a smile to let him know she had complete confidence in him. Which she did.

But a small part of her wished it was Tony at the wheel. “Got it.”

“Fallyn?” Tony’s voice came from the speaker.

“Yes, Tony.”

“Grey and I’ve got this. You just hold on, babe.”

For the first time since she’d attacked the intruder, Fallyn felt a tickle of fear dancing in her veins. The cupcake made her stomach cramp. Bracing her feet, she wrapped her fingers around the door handle and slouched down into the seat. She didn’t want Tony worried about her. Grey either. “I’m good. Holding on as instructed!”

The next few seconds were straight out of a Fast and Furious movie. She and Grey blew through stoplights, Grey weaving around cars like they were sitting still. There weren’t many this time of evening in this part of town. At one point, he took a turn so fast, Fallyn was sure the Charger was up on two wheels.

Where was Tony? He’d disconnected the phone and she couldn’t see him in her side mirror, blinded as she was by the truck’s lights.

Grey kept cutting off the other guy, only to have him dodge and find a new hole to sneak up to them. Pretty soon, they were on a backstreet filled with garbage and debris. One side was all woods, the other a construction site. The two-lane road was under construction, orange cones dotting the shoulder.

An onramp to the highway was a quarter mile ahead. Grey gunned the motor and swerved around a barricade. The truck, right on their tail, tapped the edge of their bumper.

The Charger fishtailed, Fallyn banging the side of her head against the passenger window. Grey clutched the wheel tighter, righting the car. He drove around another barricade, then a large dump truck parked on the edge of the road. The Charger kicked up gravel.

The truck loomed behind them again, the lights flooding the interior of the Charger. “Son of a bitch,” Grey ground out.

Fallyn could see now that Tony had caught up to them. There was another vehicle trailing behind the truck, trying to get around it. With the road down to one lane due to the construction, the only way he was going around the truck was to bust through the barricades.

“Hit the nitrous oxide,” Fallyn yelled, half-laughing. She couldn’t help it. The adrenaline was too much. She was on a roller coaster ride, flying through the twilight with a man she barely knew while some asshole played bumper cars with them.

Her joke didn’t garner so much as a change in breathing from Grey. They hit a pothole left by the construction workers and nearly went airborne.

Fallyn’s heart was in her throat and another nervous laugh broke free.
Completely inappropriate
, some part of her brain still in logic-mode admonished.

But she realized, she really wasn’t scared. With Grey and Tony handling the situation, she was just along for the ride. A hell of a ride, but everything would be okay.

And then, just as she was about to turn around and flip off the driver behind them, a deer came out of nowhere, flying up from the embankment. Grey cursed and jammed the wheel to the right.

At the same time, the truck bashed them in the rear.

The Charger went airborne. Just boom, and they left the road, Fallyn’s stomach jumping up into her throat. One of Grey’s arms flew out to stop her forward projection. Her breath caught as they went up, up, up and then the car realized it couldn’t fly.

The front of the Charger fell forward and a scream tore from her throat as the ground rushed up to meet them.

The Charger hit hard, bouncing, once, twice, three times down the embankment. Airbags deployed. They were sliding sideways, Fallyn’s head smacking back from the airbag hitting her in the face.

The car wasn’t done dancing down the embankment, though. As she fought to catch a breath around the airbag, she saw mud and grass flying in all directions as the car continued to slide and spin. The sun was all but gone now, darkness closing in around them, their headlights skimming through the air as they spun around and around, sliding backward down the steep hill.

Just when she thought they were about to stop, the car hit something big and hard on her side. Next thing she knew, they were ass over tea-kettle.

How many times the Charger rolled she lost count. Her head smacked the passenger side window again, the airbag deflating in a cloud of powder. Her hands flew out, trying to find purchase, and one of her shoes flew past her head as the car did cartwheels. Glass broke, metal groaned. Grey stopped swearing. They bounced so hard once that Fallyn thought her spine would snap.

Finally, the car came to a stop. One of the headlights had broken out, the other trailed a beam at the ground. The dashboard was no longer lit up, shadows blanketing the interior.

Every bone in her body screamed in pain. Her vision was blurred, her ears ringing.

“Grey?” she said after a moment of gasping for breath. She blinked and tried to clear the pressure in her ears. “Are you okay?”

No answer.

“Grey?”

She felt weightless, as if she were hanging sideways. That’s when her vision cleared enough for her to realize that she was indeed, hanging from her seatbelt. The car was up on its side.

Suspended halfway over a drop off.

Shit
. Fallyn’s breath came in gasps once more.
What the hell just happened?

Alive. She was alive.

“Grey!”
Please be alive. Please be alive…

He wasn’t moving, didn’t even seem to be breathing.

No, no, no. Not you too.

Dark, sticky blood streamed from his forehead. Fallyn tried to check for a pulse, her fingers sliding over his muscular neck and probing gently.

Where is it? Where is it?

There. A throbbing. Light but solid under her fingers.

“Grey, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?”

No response. He was totally out.

Concussion? Probably. No telling if he had a spinal injury or was bleeding internally.

She had no purse, no cell. The car was still running. She poked at the navigation screen, straining against the seatbelt to reach it. “Come on, come on,” she said at the dark screen. “On Star, where are you?”

Nothing.

Surely Tony had seen the accident. He had to be close. Fallyn yanked on the door handle and the car wobbled. The handle moved loosely in her hand.
Useless
. The door was jammed.

Duh. It was laying on the passenger side. There was no opening it, no way, no how.

Now what?

Her head pounded. What about the guy in the truck? What if he was out there sneaking up on them? Lying in wait for Tony?

She had to warn Tony. For half a second, she tugged at her seatbelt, trying to unlock it. The car rocked again, making her stop.

Breathe
, she told herself.
Think
.

Somehow, she had to get herself and Grey out of this damn car. Without flipping it down the ravine and killing them.

“This isn’t my area of expertise, Greystone, just so you know.” Shifting her weight to the side, she slowly unbuckled her seatbelt and prayed. She reached behind her seat and grabbed the shoe that had flown off, shoved it on her foot. “But if you promise not to die on me, I’ll give it my best damn shot.”

The Fates, those fickle bitches, must have heard her, because at that exact moment, flames burst from the hood of the car.

* * *

Tony slid down the embankment, his dress shoes sliding on the moist grass and sending him to his ass. Ten feet in front of him, the hood of Grey’s Charger ignited, the bright orange flames licking the air. The car had rolled to its side and somehow sat teetering at a ninety-degree angle on the two passenger side wheels
.

Mother of God.

What the hell?

Dread marched up his body, swarming him, cutting off his air. Had they gotten out? Were they somewhere safe?

“Help!” Fallyn shrieked.

Alive.
The second’s worth of relief whipped inside him until the panic, that guttural roar in his head, drowned everything out. Her voice came from the direction of the car.

Inside
the car.

He scrambled down the embankment, one hand skittering along the ground, keeping him half upright, half sliding. If he lost his footing he’d plummet into a burning wreck.

“Fallyn!”

Somewhere in that mess, he’d find her. But all he could see was the undercarriage of the car and the tips of the flames shooting into the air.

“Tony? Help us!”

His foot caught on something. Crap. Momentum carried him, his big body still moving past his snagged foot. His ankle tweaked and—shit—if that sucker snapped, they were all toast.

Literally.

He dropped to his ass, dug his fingers into the ground to slow his body’s descent. His fingers ached from the pressure of holding two-hundred-thirty pounds of his weight—
hang on
—but he gripped harder, fighting against gravity. He halted and lifted his foot from what looked like an old tree root.

Scrambling, he got to his feet, ignoring the knifing pain in his bruised ankle to hustle down the embankment, one hand still close to the ground so he didn’t go headfirst into the wreckage. “Fallyn! Where are you?”