Dirty Addiction (Dirty 2)

We all turn, looking at the SUV chasing after us.

“You need to just let me go. It’s the only way to save yourselves,” Skye says.

“No way. Not happening,” I say.

Shots ring out behind us, and Levi swerves the car as all our hearts jump into our throats. Now, they’re shooting at us.

“Levi, Noah, please. Just turn me over to them. Gabe won’t hurt me, and you guys will have a chance to go free.”

Levi grips the steering wheel hard and glances in the rearview mirror while I give him a death stare, imploring him to keep driving, no matter what.

“We aren’t turning you over,” Noah says.

Levi nods in agreement.

Skye exhales deeply and then looks at me. “Then, you’d better come up with something fast, or we are all dead.”

I pull out my burner phone. He wants one thing. Skye. And I don’t think he’d be too happy if she were dead. Or at least, I hope not.

Shots ring out again, and we all duck down like, if we get low enough, somehow, the bullets won’t actually pierce our skin.

I reach into the bag at my feet and pull out the small gun inside.

“I don’t think shooting back is the answer,” Skye says, looking at me with wide eyes.

“Skye’s right; these guys are professionals. They will shoot you dead before you even have a chance to get a shot off.”

I aim the gun at Skye’s had.

“I’m going to make Gabe think that we’re going to kill you if he doesn’t call his men off.”

Skye smiles and grabs the phone out of my hand, handing it to Noah.

“Take a picture, and send it to Gabe,” Skye says.

Skye closes her eyes and then opens them, trying to look as terrified as possible while I aim the gun at her head.

“You have to hold the gun closer,” Noah says.

I put the gun all the way up to her head, hating how it feels to aim a gun at her, even one that has no bullets in it.

Skye looks at the gun out of the corner of her eye, and she looks terrified, just like she needs to be.

Noah takes the picture but only of my hand and Skye, giving us more time before Gabe realizes it is me who is the kidnapper.

“Message sent. Now, we wait and hope we don’t die,” Noah says.

I continue holding the gun to her head, hoping the guys behind us will see it and stop.

My heart races as the silence drones on, and we zip down the road, passing car after car.

One second passes. Then, another. Then, another.

The phone buzzes in Noah’s hand. We all hold our breath as he clicks the button to open the text message.

“He’s agreed,” Noah says.

We all exhale at the same time.