Isaiah’s car fishtails and I slam on my brakes to keep from crashing into his rear end. My breath leaves my body in a hiss. On either side of my car, metal warehouse walls threaten to scratch my side mirrors. He slows, and thanks to the dim security light hanging over a bay door, I see the reason for the reduced speed: shredded rubber spikes out from his front driver-side wheel. Isaiah destroyed the tire.
Crap. I’m going to jail and my mother is going to freak. She’ll cry and then she’ll know I’m nothing like the daughter she really loves—that I’m nothing like Colleen.
Isaiah’s arm extends from his window, waving me on as he eases his car into a space between Dumpsters. I pull alongside of him and he hops out. “Two rights. One left. Then hit the freeway. Watch the cops. They’re running on the streets to the left and right of us.”
My throat tightens. To the left and the right? “Come with me.”
Isaiah places his hands on the top of my car and leans over so that his head is level with mine. The strong scent of dark spices tickles my nose and I inhale deeply. A brief calm washes through me and somehow I know Isaiah will get me out of this.
“They’re pressing hard to find the racers, meaning us. If they pull you over—” his eyes trail over my hair then over my clothes “—they’ll probably let you go, but not if you’re with me. Especially if you’re with me. Go. Now.”
I nod and stare at the road in front of me. Two rights. One left. And if I get caught, they’ll probably let me go. I glance at Isaiah. He’s touching my car and I don’t even care. Which tells me I’m either beyond freaked or I like him. I flex my hands, which are sweating on the steering wheel. I pick the first option. I’m definitely freaking. “What will you do?” I ask.
“Walk.” His silver hoops glint in the moonlight as he performs a half shrug. “Go. I can take care of myself.” Isaiah steps away from the car, taking the dark scent of calm with him.
I put the car into First, and a fresh wave of adrenaline floods my bloodstream when a cop car speeds across an intersection two warehouses ahead. Isaiah falls into the shadows with his back against the warehouse wall. His eyes travel back and forth down the alleyway. An hour ago, I never would have thought that someone like him would be my savior, but he is. What type of person would I be if I left my savior behind? “I’m not leaving without you.”
“Dammit.” He rubs a hand over his shaved head. “Just leave.”
“Promise you won’t get caught. Promise you’ll be okay.”
He freezes midrub and shoots me a chilling look. “I won’t rat you out.”
Rat me out? My forehead scrunches. To who? A siren wails, the sound much closer than I’d prefer. I blink rapidly as the answer dawns along with a sinking feeling. The police. Isaiah knows he’s going to be caught. “I’m...I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about you.”
He mumbles a word that begins with F and stalks toward me. “I’m driving.”
Driving? No way. No one drives my car. “I don’t think...”
Isaiah opens the door and stares me down with his hard gray eyes. “Passenger side. Now.”
Passenger side. Right now. On it. I slide over the console and grasp the side of the seat when Isaiah simultaneously shuts his door and guns the engine. I click my seat belt in place as he takes a sharp left. The speedometer continues to climb.
“I thought you said two rights.”
His restless eyes check the rearview mirror. “The cop we saw took that route. I’m not interested in chasing him. Are you?”
I shake my head, but I doubt he sees it. He keeps his eyes trained on the ever-constricting slender space. It’s like we’re not even on a road anymore, but a sidewalk. My stomach cramps. Holy freaking crap. This is a walkway. The deep sound of the engine pushing out revolutions increases until Isaiah shifts into Fourth. Oh, hell, I’m gonna puke. We’re doing sixty. “Slow down.”
“Slow down?” He smiles. I’m seconds away from a full-on panic attack and the guy actually smiles. “Your car can do over double what I’m asking it. In fact, it was built to be let loose. You should try it sometime.”
“I do let it loose. Garbage can!” I close my eyes and bite back a scream when the car swerves to the left. Breathe, Rachel, breathe. Going mental is not going to help this situation. “I mean, slow down.” I reopen my eyes only to wish I hadn’t. Dumpster. Big Dumpster. Big freaking, going-to-wreck-my-car Dumpster. “You can’t make it. You can’t, you can’t, you can’t....”
And he swings the car to the right and into an actual alleyway. “Don’t hurt her. Just don’t hurt her. Okay?” Tears prick my eyes and the breathing thing isn’t working and everything feels out of control. “She’s mine. This is mine. I don’t have much that’s mine. So you can’t destroy her, okay?”
“What’s your name?” he asks in the calmest, deepest tone I’ve ever heard.
“What?”
“Your name. I want your name.”
“Rachel,” I squeak.
“Rachel,” he says with a long drawl. I glance over at him when he says nothing else. His eyes flicker between me and the road. “I’m Isaiah, and I swear I’ll take care of you and your car.”
Breathing becomes a little easier. “Okay.”
I smell it again, his scent. The calming aroma. The one that’s become my new favorite. I take a deeper breath.