He speeds off down the road, but there are a few switchbacks and that slows us down. The cherry on top of this day will not be the both of us going over the side of a dusty desert mountain Grace Kelly-style.
“Is anyone following us?”
I turn to look around, but we’re on a curve and the mountain is in the way. But then… I see them. Headlights across the canyon on another switchback. The black SUVs. “Yes! Holy shit! They are!”
“How far back?”
“Maybe half a mile!”
He goes a little faster and I can see this ending coming. I swear to God. We’re going over the side of the cliff.
But what I don’t see until it’s almost too late is the big black van coming towards us from the other direction.
“Shit!” Jesse yells, turning the wheel to the left. The car slides to the right and almost turns completely around.
And that’s when the train of black SUVs comes around the last switchback.
“What do we do?” I ask. My heart is pounding inside my chest, adrenaline coursing through my body. Is this part of the wedding? Is this real? Will these people hurt us—or, even worse, will they hurt Jesse and leave me alone?
The thought of something happening to him, or me, or us—that’s bad. But the idea that I might have to go on without him? That’s so much worse. I can’t do it. I won’t do it.
The SUVs come to a stop about fifty yards away and when I check behind us, the black van is only about ten.
We’re trapped between them and the only way out that doesn’t involve being shoved in the back of a black van is to go over the side of the road and run.
“Let’s run,” I say, nearly breathless from the panic building inside me.
“Run where?” Jesse asks. “This has to be a joke, right? This has Fingers written all over it, don’t you think? Shotgun Wedding?”
“Maybe. But”—I caution him—“this could be about you. Or Joey. Johnny. Or hell, Brooke and Megan are caught up in all this crap too. It could be about us, Jesse.”
“Mr. Boston,” a singsong voice calls from one of the stopped SUVs.
And yup. That pretty much solves that mystery. It is about us. This isn’t some crackpot fantasy wedding. I mean, who the hell would pay good money for that beautiful wedding only to have mobsters come in and shoot it all up before you even say ‘I do’?
“You found me,” Jesse yells back. He’s calm and cool. Like this is just another chance meeting with some old friends.
The passenger side door of the closest SUV opens and a tall man in a black suit and dark sunglasses slides out while buttoning his jacket. Other men get out after him, all of them pointing guns at us.
Do these men want to hurt us?
Why the hell was Kraken Karen at the resort?
Did I imagine her? Am I just making shit up after a day filled with more make-believe than I can handle? Or was that really her?
Is she being used by the Way? Did someone from the Boston brothers’ secret Mob organization find her and think, Hey, let’s use Kraken Karen to get to Emma and Jesse? Or is she in on this? Is Karen Krakken Channing part of the Way?
Off in the distance I hear the thumping sound of a helicopter. We all hear it at the same time and everyone glances up at the sky for a moment.
Is that the cops? More mobsters? Some secret Fingers Thumb team ready to swoop in like the cavalry? Will we get pulled to safety at the last second and then have a good laugh?
You got us again! Joke’s on us! Haha. Fuckin’ Fingers! He sure knows how to throw a fantasy Shotgun Wedding!
But no. The helicopter never materializes and a few seconds later even the thumping of the rotors disappears.
“Well?” Jesse yells. “What do you want?”
The man is silent for a minute. “Here’s what I want, Mr. Boston. You see that van behind you?”
We know the van is behind us, but we both look over our shoulders instinctively.
“I want you two to walk towards that van with your hands in the air. And once you reach those men, they are going to tie you up and you’re going to be very good and cooperate.”
“Look.” Jesse sighs like he’s tired. “We know this is all part of the wedding—”
“What wedding?” the man in black asks.
Jesse lets out an incredulous huff. “What wedding? Uh, the one we just escaped from?” He does air quotes for the word ‘escaped.’
The man in black just stares at Jesse impassively.
“Hello?” Jesse calls. “My bride?” He points to me. “She’s wearing a big, poofy wedding dress. I’m in coattails? Any of this sounding familiar to you?”
“Sir,” the man says, and he sounds tired too. “Where you were and what you were doing before we stopped you here is none of my concern.”