Ten minutes. Doing something you love, it can pass in a blink. In pain, it can feel like forever. For Amber, somehow it feels like both. Her fear and worry drags the time out. Wondering if Banks is okay. Wondering if they’re hurting him…if they’ve killed him. And yet, despite that fear dragging time to a standstill, in less than a moment, they are on the car’s trail. A plan needed to be formed. A strategy for what to do when they caught the car they’re chasing needed to be made. Yet, the time, ten minutes, it flew by. It passed without a moment for contemplation. It passed without a blueprint being discussed or decided upon. And now, with Banks only a handful of cars ahead, Amber knows she has no idea what to do, or how to help.
In this situation, unsure what to do, not knowing how to proceed, she can’t help but think about her books. She doesn’t want to. She wants to concentrate. She knows she needs to stay in reality, and yet, her mind wanders to the stories she’s read so many times. Her mind goes to the characters, to their crazy antics, to their daring rescues, to the happy endings that she knows will always come. She wonders if this will have a happy ending. Will it turn out like one of her books? Will she get to kiss the hero in front of the setting sun after the big explosion? Or in reality, does that not happen? In reality, the bad guys win, the hero dies, and the sexy love interest is left all alone…forever.
“One minute and I’ll have us right beside them. So what’s the plan?” Mateo asks.
The silence is heavy. Amber looks to Curtis. Curtis looks back at Amber. Mateo turns, his eyes falling from one to the other and back again. Curtis’s eyes fall back to the dashboard screen and he presses a few buttons as if he’s busy. Amber opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. There’s no plan. No execution. No ideas swirling around in her brain.
“Guys? What’s it going to be? I’m coming up on them now.”
Despite the lack of a plan. Despite the lack of even a response, he doesn’t slow down. They gain on the Reyes cartel. In the lane beside them, their front bumper reaches the other’s rear bumper. In a second they’ll be directly beside the cartel’s car, they’ll be able to see Banks, and yet they still have no concept of what to do.
“Guys? Guys!”
In her books, this is the moment. This is when the hero would say something cool. This is the moment he would take charge. This is the moment when he would prove he’s the hero and win the hearts of every reader. Only…the hero is in the other car, kidnapped, and all that’s left, all that’s in this car, is the driver, the sidekick, and the love interest. Amber realizes this isn’t right, this isn’t the way it’s supposed to go. She’s supposed to be the one kidnapped. She’s supposed to be saved by Banks. No wonder they don’t have a plan, the hero’s the one who makes the plans, but he’s the one in trouble.
“Amber! Curtis! What am I doing?”
They are now directly beside the cartel’s car, speeding down the road. Amber looks over, she can’t help it, and her gaze immediately meets El Bandido’s. Her beautiful brown eyes are not filled with anger, only sadness, and Amber knows, that’s far more dangerous. With a quick scan, she can see who else is inside. A driver and El Bandido are in the front, and in the back Banks sits beside Diego. That’s it? She thinks. Where are the rest? Where are the bodyguards and all the guys that rushed out of the party carrying Banks? Where are—Their car suddenly swerves and nearly crashes into the cartel’s, who have to swerve to avoid them.
“Are you trying to crash?” Amber yells, questioning Mateo’s driving.
“Not me,” he says. “Them!”
Amber looks out the window and sees a second SUV on the other side of them. It drives with two wheels on the shoulder of the road, barely squeezed between them and the ditch.
“They’re trying to ram us off the road!” Curtis yells.
The SUV swerves again and this time it slams into the side of their car. Metal crunches and scrapes, the side mirror flies off, but Mateo keeps them on the road. He keeps them neck and neck with El Bandido…with Banks, but for how long. They need a plan. They need to do something, and fast.
“Curtis, you’re FBI, right? What do we do?” Mateo yells.
“I’m an analyst. I’m more like a Best Buy Geek Squad member than the kind of FBI agent you’re thinking of.”
“So what are we doing then? Giving up? Letting them run us off the road?”
“No!” Amber yells, the image of her favorite title character, Special Agent Matt Stunning, in her head. He stands on the cover, tall, impossibly fit, and most of all confident. He knows what he needs to do, and knows how to do it. Only for the first time, he’s not a he. Matt Stunning turns into a woman. Not tall, not fit, and most of all not confident. Amber sees herself. She sees the cover of the book, only instead of the man she’s dreamed about with his arm around a beautiful woman, walking away from an explosion, she sees herself. She sees a short girl, relatively weak and untrained. Rather than a strong jaw held high, looking off into the distance, she sees a girl, unsure of herself, gazing down, avoiding eye contact.
The beautiful woman who was once desperately clinging to Agent Stunning, now stands next to Amber, looks down at her. “How are you going to save me?” she asks. Amber, the one on the book cover, looks back at the frozen explosion behind them, then down at the gun in her other hand, and panic begins to set in. She feels the fear. She knows she can’t do this, but as she looks up, as her eyes move back to the tall, scantily clad woman, she’s no longer there. In her place stands Banks. He gazes down at her as well, but instead of looking disgusted, instead of judging her for her size and gender, he smiles and clings to her just as the woman had been clinging to Matt Stunning. With a gentle nod from the new man of her dreams, Amber finally knows, she can do this. She can be the hero. She can—
The thought is interrupted as the car is rammed again. This time squishing them between the two SUVs. She is thrust back into reality, back into the situation at hand, only this time there’s a new confidence. The fear she had, the fear both Mateo and Curtis are still showing, is no longer within her. Her role in her own story has switched and for the first time, she knows she’s the title character of her own life.
“Hold us steady,” she says to Mateo.
“What?”
“Don’t try to break away from their pin.”
“Amber if I don’t get us released, they’ll crash us straight into—”
“Just remember the plan!”
The words are nearly drowned out by the wind as Amber rolls down the window. She isn’t sure what he was yelling about, but to be honest she wasn’t really listening. Her attention, her focus, is entirely on Banks. She’s reacting, moving without thinking, making things happen, not to her, but because of her.
The car is pressed firmly against the other. Her back window, now down, opens directly to the rear window of Banks’s car. She reaches out and gives the window a firm knock. The window isn’t tinted, and she can see the confusion on Diego’s face. He isn’t scared, he’s simply shocked. With the press of a button, he rolls the window down. An amused smile fills his gorgeous face. He’s the kind of good looking that makes him look like a movie star ready to reach out and sign autographs. Only instead of a crowd of screaming girls, there’s just one, and her fist spears through the two windows before he can get off his snarky comment. It catches the man in his right eye, and despite her size, gender, and genuine lack of strength, it rocks his head back.
With his obnoxious head out of the way, Banks’s soft gaze comes into view. He smiles, seeing only her.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi,” she responds.
“Nice shot.”
Amber can feel her cheeks redden with blush.
“Amber!” Mateo yells, pulling her from her moment. “If I don’t pull away, we’re going to crash!”
She turns to Mateo, “Pull away in five, four…”
She turns back to Banks, just as Diego’s face comes between them.
“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” she says.
“Three, two, one!” Mateo yells quickly and Amber dives.
Just as her fist had done, her whole body spears through the two windows. She crashes directly into Diego, cracking his head and knocking him sideways. Simultaneously Mateo turns as hard as he can, narrowly missing the freeway off-ramp divider that the two drivers were trying to crash them into. Mateo, Curtis, and the other SUV bounce down the off-ramp and out of sight.
Now separated from the two other cars who didn’t make it on the freeway, Amber and Banks are on their own. Three on two…well one and a half, as Banks has an injured shoulder and is handcuffed behind his back. Diego hadn’t seen the dive coming, and his body took the brunt of her weight. Both the driver and El Bandido turn, looking from the front seats to the chaos in the back.
“You?” El Bandido’s shock is clear. “You will not take this away from me!”
She reaches for Amber between the two front seats, but Amber slams her foot down on the base of the front seat’s seatbelt, yanking El Bandido back into her chair and holding her there tightly.
“A little help,” Amber says, looking to Banks.
“With what?” he asks, as Amber sends an elbow crashing into Diego’s jaw as he tries to right himself underneath her. The blow knocks his head back again. “You’re killing it. I’m not sure what I could possibly assist you with.”
The comment is not what she wanted. She wanted him to jump into action. She wanted him to break from his chains and finish this. His response, his lack of action, may not be what she wanted, but it is what she needed. She can feel his affirmation of what she’s done. She can feel his support. She can feel the confidence building, and she knows she doesn’t need him to finish this…she’ll finish this!
El Bandido struggles against the seatbelt tight around her lap and chest. The driver fights to keep the car straight as his boss yells orders and he tries to radio to the other car, wondering where his backup is. Diego is still dazed and bruised from two hits to the face and a body colliding with him in such an unexpected way. She can do this. She can beat them. She is sure of it. She just isn’t exactly sure what to do next.
“What do I do now?” she asks Banks, keeping her weight on Diego and her foot on El Bandido’s restraints.
“What are you asking me for? You got this. You’re doing great.”
His confidence in her is wonderful, but at this point, she already knows she can do this. What she doesn’t know is how.
“Yeah, okay. Thanks. I know, but what do I do now?”
“Just finish your plan.”
“Yeah. Okay. Right. My plan…My plan…”
“You don’t have a plan,” Banks says.
“I don’t have a plan. I don’t even have a concept.”
“I’ll tell you the plan,” El Bandido says, still fighting the seatbelt she can’t unbuckle with the amount of pressure being pulled down on her lap. “You’re going to die right alongside your boyfriend. Oh but don’t worry, for what you’ve done, it won’t be too quick.”
“Oh don’t mind her,” Banks says. “If there’s one thing I know about her, it’s that she finishes quickly.”
Both women stop, their struggle for control no match for the audacity of that statement.
“A sex joke? You’re really making a sex joke right now?” Amber says with a jab of her fist to Banks’s stomach.
“And in front of her?” El Bandido cuts in. “Really? I want to kill her, and I wouldn’t even be that cruel.”
“Thank you,” Amber says.
There’s a moment of sisterly bonding. A sense of feminism and standing up against the injustices of men. As much of a shock it is to Amber, as quick as it comes, it’s gone, and El Bandido reaches out, catching a fistful of Amber’s hair. With a scream of pain, she slams her foot back down on the base of the seatbelt, but rather than meeting the resistance she thought was coming, her foot slams to the floor. Her control is gone. El Bandido had used the moment to unbuckle, and Amber can’t help but wonder if her indignation was sincere or just for show. It doesn’t matter now. Now her control over the situation is quickly melting away. El Bandido drags Amber’s head forward, between the two front seats. She pulls it back, twisting her head upward, and gazing down at Amber’s pained face.
“You thought you could come in here and save the day? You thought you could do what I do? Being a woman in a man’s world isn’t easy. Being a woman running a man’s world is even harder. You’re no me,” she says, her other hand closing around Amber’s throat.
She claws, she fights, she swings her arms and kicks her legs, but in the small space of the car, on her back, she can’t stop it. The pull of her hair, the squeezing of her neck, it’s too much. She can’t fight it, can’t break free. Her eyes tilt down, to the back seat, to Banks. Her gaze pleads, begs for his help, but as he fights, shakes his body from side to side, thrashing against his restraints, she realizes his lack of help, his confidence in her to get the job done, it wasn’t for her benefit, it was all he could do. He isn’t just handcuffed, he’s bolted to the seat. His hands and feet unable to move, unable to help. Unable to stop the woman blocking her airway and sending her drifting off to darkness.
He yells, screaming for El Bandido to stop, to release her, to kill him instead, but she says nothing. She doesn’t respond and she doesn’t let up. Banks can continue to plead all he wants, but he knows nothing is going to make any difference.
His eyes fall to the one he loves, meeting her gaze. Amber’s scared, and Banks is even more so. She can see fear in his eyes. More fear than she even feels. It seems wrong, backward somehow. She’s about to die, and yet she’s more worried for the man across from her. She feels more pain from the sight of him, than she does from the fingers wrapped around her throat. She wants to reach out, comfort him, tell him everything’s going to be okay, but she can’t. Not just because she physically can’t, but because it would be a lie. Everything is not going to be okay. She thought she could help, but she’s going to die, and after that, he will too.
All this, risking the lives of her friends, giving her own life, and for what? Banks’s fate will remain the same. All she will have done is joined him in death. The thought reminds her of Romeo and Juliet. A book they had so recently discussed. A book he hated, and she secretly loved. And now, she is to live it. The thought sends a shiver down her spine. Maybe…maybe Banks was right. Maybe the story is stupid. Maybe dying for love is idiotic. It does nothing for you. It does nothing for the one you love. Maybe true character, true strength, would be fighting until the end. Even if you were to die, save the one you love. Even if the one you loved were to die, live on to remember them and the love you shared. Don’t let that love die along with you.
Romeo and Juliet were cowards. The realization is shocking. It’s a classic, a book loved for centuries, studied in schools, and it’s a joke. Its ending, while tragic, shows little character development. It’s a book about teenagers committing suicide over puppy love, simply because they lack the emotional intelligence to think clearly and act rationally. Special Agent Matt Stunning, on the other hand, is no Romeo. He doesn’t speak in soliloquies and he doesn’t profess his undying love, but he is rational, he does think clearly and intelligently. They may not live on for centuries, and they may not be studied in schools, but the The Murderer’s Love series, starring Special Agent Matt Stunning, may just be better than Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.
Amber would laugh if she could. Even in this moment. In the seconds before she’s going to die, what she’s thinking about, what she wants to do, is tell Banks her new revelation about Deadly Love being better than Romeo and Juliet. It’s silly, but it makes her smile knowing the struggle Banks would have with the comparison. He hates Romeo and Juliet, but could his hatred possibly be strong enough for him to admit that Deadly Love is better? His mind might explode at the prospect of having to name one better than the other.
The thought, the idea of a time when they can laugh together, discussing books, enjoying each other’s company, it reminds Amber of what she’s losing. It reminds her what she can have…if she could just slip out of this monster’s grip. She finds the resolve to give it one last fight. To push to the very end. Her hands flail upward, smacking the woman in the face, but it does little to dampen her grip. Amber can feel her breath fading and at this point, she knows she’d need a miracle. She’d need some divine intervention. She’d need…Diego. His head pops up, a confused, glazed look in his eyes.
The thought is instant, and her reactions are just as fast. Without hesitation, her foot slams into Diego’s chest, knocking him down to the floor of the speeding car. On the same page, Banks reacts. His feet, cuffed together and chained to the seat, lift the few inches they’re able to move and come down on Diego’s throat. The man, still groggy from being knocked unconscious, gives little resistance.
“Release her!” Banks yells, but El Bandido’s eyes only glare in defiance. “Release her, or your nephew dies!”
That does it, that gets a reaction. El Bandido didn’t know Banks knew Diego was her nephew. That was another fact courtesy of Alfonso and Ricardo. She was bluffing. Assuming Banks would release him when he realized she doesn’t care about a random underling in her cartel, but he knows better. He’s done his research. It may not have told him that the actual crime boss is the wife of the man the whole world thought was running the Reyes Cartel, but it did mention the young nephew being groomed to take over the family business.
“He’s the only family you have left. Your cartel’s legacy. Do you really want to watch him die?”
Without a word, though rage burns in her eyes, El Bandido releases Amber’s neck. Air rushes in to fill the void in her lungs. She gasps and it burns, but the pain of living beats the darkness of death. Banks lifts his foot, releasing the pressure, but keeps it pressed firmly to Diego’s throat. In accordance, Amber’s head remains tilted backward. Her hair still grasped within El Bandido’s fist.
“What now?” she asks. “It seems we’re at an impasse.”
“And those being harmed, are the ones we love,” Banks adds.
“What do you suggest?”
“Release Amber. I release your nephew. And you still have me.”
“No,” Amber tries to yell, but it comes out a raspy mess. “There must be something else.”
“It has to be this way,” Banks says. “There isn’t a deal in the world that would get her to release me.”
“No. There has to be another way. A job. You could do a job for her.”
“He killed my husband!” El Bandido yells. “There’s no life for me until I have my revenge.”
“And you’ll have it,” Banks says. “And you’ll have Diego, unharmed. Just release Amber. She’s done nothing. Let her go back to her life.”
El Bandido seems to consider the offer as the car continues to speed down the freeway. The driver, happy to not be involved, happy to be ignored and simply drive, feels his boss’s frustration as she releases her grip on Amber’s hair. Only having just learned she’s been running the cartel, he thinks of all the times he had spoken to her husband while completely ignoring her. He’s lucky to be alive, and he knows it.
“Pull over,” she says, staring at Banks.
The car continues.
“Pull over,” she says again.
The car still continues down the freeway.
“Pull the damn car over!”
This time her neck snaps as her eyes land on the driver. It may have taken a moment, but he finally realizes she’s talking to him and slams on the brakes. The car skids and comes to an abrupt halt. Horns blare and the sound of a crunch comes from two cars colliding behind them. El Bandido’s gaze moves back to Banks, but he doesn’t move his foot. He doesn’t release his hold over Diego. Not until Amber is out. Not until she’s away from this woman.
“You’re free,” she says, keeping her eyes on Banks, though talking to Amber.
“Ma’am—uh sorry—El Bandido, we’re on an overpass,” the driver stutters, afraid to turn his head, afraid she might still be looking at him. Having spent his life thinking her husband was in charge, only to find out that she’s been calling the shots, she’s been the boss, is shocking, to say the least. But more worrisome is the fear that he hadn’t shown her the respect she deserved.
“And?”
“There’s no sidewalk. Nowhere for her to go.”
El Bandido presses a button on the dash and the back door pops open. The driver takes the cue and shuts up. Her safety isn’t his concern. Right now, he should be more concerned for his own safety.
“Out,” she says. “Go home to your small, pathetic life, and forget about me, forget about Banks, and forget about this life you don’t belong in.”
Amber turns to Banks. Their eyes meet, before he looks away, before he looks back to El Bandido.
“Go,” he says. “Like she said, live your life and forget about me.”
Amber sits up, moves to the door, and her mind flashes back to Romeo and Juliet. She remembers her new revelation. The book is stupid, committing suicide for love is stupid…and yet, she considers staying. She considers refusing to leave, even though she knows it’s suicide. No, she can’t do that. Banks would never forgive her. With one foot out the door, she stops and looks back. Her eyes fall to the man she met only two weeks ago. She sees the asshole who pissed her off so much she almost left the very first day. But she also sees the man underneath, the real Banks, the man who devours books with a passion, the man who treats his employees better than he treats himself, the man who would happily give his own life to save hers.
Amber realizes she was wrong…twice. First, she had thought Banks was the hero, her knight in shining armor, the Special Agent Matt Stunning of her story. He could do this. He could do anything. Then, she had thought she was the hero, her own knight in shining armor, a female Matt Stunning. She thought she could do this, that she could do anything. But now, thinking back to the moment in the car, back to just seconds before she thought she was going to die, she realizes they worked together to save her life. Neither could have done it on their own. So it isn’t Banks or her. Neither of them are the lead character that rescues the other and saves the day. Neither of them is the sole hero, but rather, together they become something more. They become a couple who face things together, hand in hand, side by side, rather than one carried in the arms of the other. Together they are stronger. Together they can do this. Together they can do anything.
“Can I at least say goodbye?” Amber asks, pleading to the humanity in El Bandido.
“Quickly,” she replies, as cars begin to slowly drive around their roadblock.
Amber rushes back into the car, pushing Diego out of the way. His eyes have regained their focus and his concussion is starting to fade as the concentration returns. Amber’s body collides with Banks’s, her arms wrapping around him, and her head resting against his chest. He gives a small squeal of pain as she accidentally hits his shoulder, but she doesn’t care, she’s not pulling away.
“I just want to say—” she pauses, her head turns and there’s Diego, staring back at her, watching her closely. “A little space!”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re going to kill him. I don’t need Enrique Iglesias staring at me while I’m trying to say goodbye.”
Diego glances to El Bandido, who nods, and he steps back, out of the car.
“Thank you,” she says, before turning back to Banks. “You’re maddening, you know that? And crazy and kind of an asshole…but then again, maybe I’m a little crazy too, because I can’t imagine my life without you.” She gives him a tight squeeze and places her head on his shoulder, her lips just lightly grazing his ear. “You get them off yet?”
The whisper is soft, barely loud enough for Banks.
“Know…that I completely agree,” he responds, loud enough for the others to hear. “You are crazy.”
Amber smiles, the man is clever and a smartass, even if he is slow to pick handcuffs. She had thought he’d make quick work with the bobby pin from her hair that she had slipped him, but now she’ll have to give him more time. No problem, she thinks, a kiss should do the job. She leans back, looks him in the eyes, and pulls his head in for a long, slow, passionate kiss. It’s wonderful, exactly what she wanted, what she needed…but he still hasn’t indicated he has the lock picked. The kiss continues. She can’t stop until he’s done. As soon as she pulls away, that’ll be it. It has to continue, she has to make it continue.
The kiss turns graphic, her head moving from side to side. The passion, now fake, as her hands run through his hair. Noises escape her lips as she tries to sell the image that she simply can’t pull away from him. And then she feels it, his hands slide up her sides. One moves to her back as the other finds her hair. The kiss changes. It’s no longer fake, it’s no longer for the sell. This is real, this is passion, this is something she’s never felt before. She can feel herself melting in his arms, feel herself forgetting the world around them. Forgetting that if she can feel his hands on her, then he’s already picked the lock, and the others can see he’s free!
“Hey!” Diego’s voice bellows and Amber knows he saw it and realized what’s happened.
Her hands press against Banks’s chest and she pushes him away. They’ve only got one shot at this and they can’t waste it kissing. She spins, wheeling her fist for Diego’s head. Not this time. Two times was enough, and Diego sees it coming. He catches her fist with his hand and smiles that charming gorgeous smile that looks like he should be modeling for a dentist commercial.
“Forget her and stop him,” El Bandido says to her men, as she steps out of the car. Her movements are calm, not rushed or scared, just smoothly moving around the car.
Diego yanks at Amber’s arm and throws her from the car as he dives inward. His hands grapple with Banks, trying to keep him from unlocking his ankles. Though his hands are free, his legs are still cuffed, locked to his seat, keeping him in place. The driver crawls between the front seats and squishes himself into the rear of the plush four-door sedan, helping to restrain Banks. Amber, refusing to leave Banks behind, and unable to sit back and watch, throws herself into the pile. The back of the car, meant for two, now has four people fighting and wrestling for control. There’s no space, the three men and Amber are packed together so tightly, no one can move, no one can see what they’re doing. Arms flail, legs kick, and bodies crumble under each other’s weight.
Meanwhile, El Bandido has made her way around the car. Her posture tall, her demeanor calm. She walks into the path of the oncoming traffic trying to squeeze their way around the bizarre scene unfolding on the single lane freeway overpass. A car slams on its brakes, horn blaring. The others are forced to stop again, behind this mess.
“Muévete del camino!” the guy yells, sticking half his body out the window as he continues to blare the horn.
El Bandido smiles, slowly walking toward the car. The man is pissed, but she can see fear in his eyes as she closes the distance. Just before she reaches the red faced man who’s now slunk back into his car, she turns back toward her own car and steps out of his way. She peers through the back window at the tangle of limbs and yells coming from inside the car, and shakes her head. She pops the trunk as the honking subsides and the cars can once again move around the obstruction. Inside the trunk she lifts the padded bottom, revealing the spare tire, jack, and a plastic box. She pulls the box, and leaves the rest, as she once again walks in front of the traffic.
Cars again have to stop, the one in front honks, but quickly stops. El Bandido remains in front of the line of cars, the box on the ground at her feet, and a pistol in her hand. The man in front no longer minds waiting quietly as El Bandido reaches forward and pulls the back driver-side door of her car open. The three men still wrestle, arms flying in every direction. Amber has somehow found herself on the floor, smashed under the weight of the men on top. As the door opens, all eyes fall on El Bandido. The men freeze, Amber’s eyes peer out, though her body is hidden under the others.
“Pathetic,” is all El Bandido says as she points the gun at the mess of tangled limbs.
The pistol, though still deadly at this range, is actually a flare gun, as the orange rimmed barrel indicates.
“You just won’t give up,” she says to Banks, as everyone slowly climbs off each other. “I admire that. Had this only been a different situation. Had you only killed my men and tried to stab me in the back, I think I could have looked past this. I could let you live. You could be a valuable asset to my crew, and we could have done some amazing work together. But none of that matters, that all went out the window when you killed my husband.”
“A husband you cheated on, repeatedly,” Banks throws out there.
“Sex is nothing. A physical desire. A need of man. What you took from me was love, security, my other half. You took my desire to live…and left only a desire for revenge. Now you’ll die right here, alongside your girl.”
“You’ve only got one shot,” Banks says, as both the driver and Diego step out of the car, one on either side, boxing the others in.
Amber now sits on the seat beside Banks. His face is serious, his eyes locked on the woman with the gun, but he doesn’t look scared. Her hand slowly slides into his, feeling the calm in his steady touch. She looks at the flare gun pointed directly at them and then at the driver standing beside El Bandido. Turning, she sees Diego. That cocky smile, the perfectly quaffed hair, how can a man look that good with a black eye? If Amber gets seven hours of sleep instead of eight, she looks like a zombie who’s just been dumped and has been crying for hours. This guy, however, has been in multiple fights, has a black eye that’s darkening by the second, and somehow he’s still the kind of good looking that makes it seem like he should be auditioning to play the heartthrob leading role for a movie about a hunky biker gang.
“Have you ever seen what happens when a flare gun is fired into a closed car?” El Bandido asks. “If the explosion doesn’t kill you, the fire surely will.”
Both doors are slammed closed. The driver and Diego step back. Silence. Utter and complete silence except for the slow thunder of the cars speeding past on the freeway below them. Amber looks to Banks, who still does not show fear, but as he turns, as he faces her, she sees something. A calm, not one of knowing that everything will be okay, but one of knowing that everything will soon be over. Acceptance.
“Your door is not locked, when I say, you run,” he says softly, hardly moving his lips as he stares deep into her eyes.
“What? No. You have to come with me—”
“I can’t,” he says, turning away, turning back to El Bandido, staring down the barrel of the gun through the open window. “Take the shot,” he yells.
Amber can see the hatred in El Bandido’s eyes. This isn’t what she wanted. She’s going to get the kill, but she wanted to see him suffer, see him beg. Instead, he’s greeting death as a friend, embracing it with a hug. It may not be what she wanted, but seeing him die, and seeing the one he loves die alongside him, will just have to be enough.
Her grasp on the gun tightens and her finger moves to the trigger. Her experience with firearms has taught her to only put her finger on the trigger when she’s ready to shoot, to kill, and now she’s ready to do both.
“Now,” Banks says. “Go!”
The door handle is yanked back, and the door is thrust open. Amber moves quick. She has one foot out the door before Diego can react. He lunges for her, hoping to spear her back into the car, back to her death. With his shoulder lowered, his instincts can see her speed, can calculate his own, and tell him to expect contact now. It doesn’t come. Just as he expects to hit her, her speed slows. Her hand still grasping Banks’s, she pulls at the man, slowing her momentum. He is yanked toward the far side door, but instead of feeling the tug of the restraints around his ankles, he feels them collide with his feet and fall to the floor. They’re unlocked, but how, he thinks. He never got a chance to unlock them.
Diego’s dive misses Amber and he collides with Banks instead, the two bouncing off each other, just as a bang comes from the far side. El Bandido fired the shot. Her grief, her desire for revenge taking precedent over the wellbeing of her nephew caught in the middle. The shot through the window hits the back of the passenger seat, as Amber and Banks fall to the ground outside the car. Amber feels her body smashed underneath Banks, his arms, shielding her from what’s to come. A loud pop and the flare incinerates. She can feel the warmth, but nothing more.
The explosion lasts only an instant. The whole scene moves in a blur. Banks is on his feet, lifting Amber. The car is on fire, the inside aflame, and Diego screams. She sees him rise from the flames just as she falls backward, Banks tackling her, knocking her over the overpass’s short side wall. They fall through the air and all Amber can see is the sky above, until Banks turns them. Rotating through the air, she now falls on top of him as they collide with metal below.
El Bandido rushes to the overpass’s wall and peers down as Banks and Amber sail away atop an eighteen-wheeler speeding down the street.