CATALINA SAT in the passenger seat and watched the thug drive. The big man said nothing, his brow furrowed in concentration and worry, his nervous eyes jumping between the rearview mirror and the road.
She wondered what had happened. Where the thug’s partner was, the scary scar-faced man who’d tried to force himself on her. She wondered who the other man was, the man whose truck they’d stolen. Mostly, she wondered what had happened to the humanity she’d seen in this thug’s eyes.
Outside, night was falling. The SUV’s engine howled. The thug drove with one hand. With the other, he pulled out an iPhone. His eyes flicked from the screen to the road, his lips moving but not saying anything.
Catalina shifted. “Where are we going?” she asked him.
The thug didn’t answer. He muttered a swearword. Struck the steering wheel, and she recoiled from the sudden violence. She could still feel the imprint in her skin where the thug had pressed his gun. He’d been ready to kill her. He would have put a bullet inside her to protect himself from the other man.
She had been wrong to imagine this thug was her friend. He was just as evil as his missing partner. He just wanted her for something different.
She had to get out of this truck.
The thug sped down the highway. The gas station disappeared behind them. The man kept playing with his phone, barely paying attention. He was distracted. He was vulnerable. She had to do something.
Catalina felt for the seat belt across her lap. Pressed the release button quickly, before she could stop herself. Then, as the thug glanced at her, she lunged for the wheel.
The thug tried to block her, but he was too slow, too late. Catalina grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and turned it hard over. The big truck lurched onto the shoulder, tires squealing, kicking up dirt. The thug forgot about her. Fought to regain control of the vehicle. The truck bounced and bumped over grass and gravel. It was speeding too fast. The thug couldn’t control it.
Catalina fumbled with her seat belt. Caught the end and struggled with it, dragged it across her lap. Slipped it back into the release just as the SUV collided with something hard and unyielding, launching the thug through the windshield and out over the hood, jerking Catalina forward until her head struck the dash. She was strapped in, though; she didn’t fly through the windshield. The thug did. He left a hole, jagged, through the glass.
It was the last thing Catalina saw before she passed out.