The Accidental Assassin
Page 8

“The kind that goes boom. It was meant for Mr. Song, who you managed to kill without a bomb, and technically it’s on the car, not in it.” He twisted in his seat so that he was facing forward again. “It should be fine. It’s set to go off by remote and I have that right here.” He patted his pocket.
I twisted the steering wheel sharply as I exited the garage and almost knocked over the doorman. But he was holding a large gun in one hand and to my shock he fired directly at my window. The glass shattered, but I didn’t feel any pain, which I hoped meant I wasn’t hit. I ducked in a belated reaction and the car swerved wildly, but the gun-toting hottie next to me steadied the wheel.
“I knew that doorman didn’t like me.” I gritted my teeth. “What an asshole. He’s almost as bad as you are.”
“I’ll drive now, if you’d like.” He said it like we were taking turns on a road trip, not running for our lives. Maybe he wasn’t running for his life. But I was still running for mine. I didn’t know what this guy wanted with me. Was I supposed to just let him drive me to some creepy kill room? An image of walls draped in plastic, knives on a table, and a bed with chains filled my mind. I didn’t think so.
“Now? You want to drive now?” My voice rose with each word. “Sure, I’ll pull over at the corner for a snack and let you take over. Holy shit! Are you crazy?”
“Has anyone ever told you that for such a beautiful woman you have a very dirty mouth?” He smiled at me as my mouth worked silently. “I think I like the odd combination.”
“Fuck you.” I glared at the road.
“So does that mean you don’t want me to drive?” He nodded toward the traffic that was growing thicker. “Do you have a plan for where to go?”
“The cops.” I didn’t mention that I had no idea where they would be located. I’d just stop the first one I saw. “And you told me to get in the driver seat.”
“You’re sure you want to go to the police?” He leaned back into his seat, getting comfortable. He looked, for all the world, as if riding around in a car with a bomb attached to it was normal. “You killed a man and fled the scene in his stolen car—which has a bomb attached to it. Oh, and someone was trying to kill you. I’m sure being locked in a tiny room with nowhere to run will make their job much more difficult.”
“Maybe they were trying to kill you. I can imagine why they’d want to.” I growled and turned down a street that was one way only. And I was going the wrong way. I muttered under my breath as I dodged cars and people honked at me. “I should’ve stayed in bed today.”
“Possibly. They were very sloppy.” He pointed to a street. “You should turn here and take the roundabout.”
“Roundabout?” My heart dropped into my stomach and I broke into a cold sweat. “That seems like a bad idea.”
Roundabouts were the devil. If you’ve ever tried to drive through a roundabout after years of driving in America, you’d understand. Everything was completely backward to how you instinctually drove. It gave me an ulcer just thinking about it.
“We’re being followed. We need to lose them.” He looked at me with serious eyes. “If you want to live, we need to put distance between us and the people in the black sedan.”
“Oh, Jesus.” I jerked the wheel and our car shot down the road toward the evil traffic circle of death.
“Don’t stop, go around them.” I swerved into oncoming traffic to avoid the cars waiting at the stop sign. Horns blared, people shouted, and I gritted my teeth. If I made it out of this alive, I’d kiss the ground.
I could hear people screeching to a halt as I blew into the traffic circle and weaved between the cars.
“Here.” He pointed to a road and I didn’t hesitate as I turned. Belatedly, I wondered where the police were. Surely there should be screeching sirens and flashing lights in my rearview mirror at any minute. The part of me that wasn’t required to pay attention prayed to have someone else to turn this mess over to, someone to make sense of the last thirty minutes.
Had it even been thirty minutes? Probably closer to five minutes. It felt like hours.
A pedestrian stepped into a crosswalk and I slammed on my brakes. Dear God, don’t let me kill anyone else. The rear tires slid in a wild fishtail and my arms locked stiffly as I fought the wheel to keep control. Without thinking I took my foot off of the brake and slammed it onto the gas pedal, wrenching the vehicle around the dazed man and through the intersection.
“Nice.” Green Eyes nodded his head as if I had done something impressive when I had only been trying to not pee my pants.
“If I can’t go to the cops, where do you suggest I go?” I gritted my teeth as I tore through another intersection.
“Out of town would be best.” His head ducked so he could look out the mirror on his side of the car. “The less people around, the better we can stay hidden.”
I took a deep breath. “So I’m stuck with you?”
“It could be worse.” He shrugged.
“How could it possibly be worse? I just killed a man in a fucking parking garage! I killed him! His brains are probably stuck to the cement!”
“Well, you could be trapped with the people shooting at you right now.” He pointed toward a side street. “And it’s not your fault. Song was creeping through the garage trying to not be seen. There was no way you could know that he was behind you. The blood splatter would prove your innocence.”