“What’re we going to do?” she asks, worry creeping into her voice.
“There’s a road up here that goes past some old military ruins. Ordinance bunkers and shit they used around World War II. More like a path than a true road, I guess, so hang on tight.” It also goes through the Watershed Forest Reserve, which means lighter traffic.
“But if it’s just a path…won’t we be in the middle of nowhere?”
“Don’t worry. It goes all the way through, comes out south of the big blowhole. Bryce and I have taken ATVs down here before.”
“Um, this truck is way bigger than an ATV.”
“Sure is. That’s why we’re gonna haul some major ass. Hold on,” I say, pinching a sharp right onto a gravel road.
The SUV barely makes the corner behind me.
Then they hit the gas, flying up on my bumper, trying to ram us.
I slam my gas pedal to the floor and speed on, kicking up so much gravel I can barely see them behind us. The road is rough; we’re both bouncing in our seats like ping pong balls, but I keep my foot down on the pedal, letting up only when a corner gets so tight, so treacherous, I have to slow down.
The SUV fishtails every now and then, but keeps close behind us.
Exactly what I want.
There’s a double set of S-curves a couple miles ahead, and this little trench that floods, almost turning into a small marsh. After the rain we had last night, I’m sure it’s still drenched.
“Flint! It’s not just one. I see two behind us now,” she says, her voice frozen over.
“I know.” I keep my voice dead calm, hoping it’ll rub off on her. “The second car’s on our side.”
We go clattering up the next stretch of road, virtually on the grass and mud now, so there isn’t any dust.
“Well, in that case, let’s have some fun.” She twists in her seat, waving at the SUV behind us.
I have to chuckle to myself, then tell her, “Careful. We’ve got some sharp fucking corners ahead.”
“Ready!” She plants herself against the back of the seat, gripping the center console and oh, shit handle hanging above the window.
I slow down for the first curve, just to confuse the SUV driver.
Let them think they have a chance.
A second later, I whip us around the next bend, and the next, and right before going into the tightest one yet, I punch my brakes.
Wait.
Then pour on the gas and wrench the wheel, flinging us around the curve.
Shit works beautifully.
The SUV behind us slams on their brakes, but hits the gas too soon, thinking they can nail us.
It doesn’t work.
The fucks go careening off the road, and after being air-bound for several seconds, plop right down in the middle of the trench, sinking in the muck.
“Holy…did you see that?”
Val’s chest rises and falls like she’s been sped up. She’s some mad, flushed mix of laughing and clapping, holding up her hand for a high five.
“I saw. I was the asshole who did it, honey.”
I slap her hand, check the rear-view mirror, and make sure my guy’s still following us. He only slows down to get a good look at the other pricks, probably well into struggling out of their half-submerged SUV by now and figuring out where to run.
“That was so cool!” Val gushes, totally high on the rush.
I laugh. “Now you sound like Bryce.”
“Guess I see what he means about you going into action.” She snickers, covering her mouth.
I flinch inwardly, wanting to tell her it’s not all fun and games, not this simple, but hell.
It’s the most excited I’ve seen her, the most empowered. I don’t want to spoil the afterglow.
She chatters on about seeing the SUV in her side mirror flying through the air, and how fun it was driving around the S-curves until we hit the highway.
There’s a drive-up place in the next town over with decent food, so we stop there and eat in the truck. It’s simple Hawaiian fare, kalua pork plates with white rice and mac salad.
She has a pineapple smoothie that damn near has her moaning. I do iced coffee with a splash of vanilla and macadamia flavor.
Before we’re finished, Davis, texts to confirm the route home is clear, so we carry on.
It’s a bit awkward without Bryce.
He was my security measure, helping keep my distance from Val. Without him, I feel the tension deepen, this lethal cocktail of adrenaline, uncertainty, and want.
Worst part is, she’s looking at me like I just swept her off her feet.
Look, I know damn well nobody ever said this hero stuff was easy.
I’m used to happy parents and spouses and grateful bigwigs sobbing their gratitude or pinning a shiny new medal on my dress uniform.
I’m used to the relief that comes from a job well done.
I’m used to my son smiling up at me when I do something worthy of being superdad for the day.