The guy could swing a hammer with the best of them – and looked very good doing it, as millions of cable TV viewers already knew.
The driver shot back, "But his sister's not even here."
"I know," I said through clenched teeth. "But Mason doesn't know that, does he?"
The guy glanced toward his female companion and said, "Why'd you throw out her purse for?"
It wasn't the purse that was the issue. It was everything inside the purse – my wallet, my phone, and my little cannister of pepper spray, which would've come in extra-handy right about now.
"Don't blame me!" the female yelled back. "It was your idea!"
The guy made a sound of disgust. "Since when do you listen to me?"
As they bickered back and forth, I whirled in my seat to study the road behind us. Snow was falling so hard, I could hardly see anything. Even Mason's black sedan – it was a gray, hazy blur amidst the swirling snow.
As far as the road itself, we were on a long country stretch, with very few houses and no other vehicles in sight.
And why? It was because only an idiot would be out in these conditions.
Correction. Four idiots. Me, the two masked wonders, and the guy who was hot on our heels.
Through the rear window, I was still eyeing the fuzzy outline of Mason's car. The way it looked, he was having a hard time keeping it on the road. Every once in a while, the sedan would begin to fish-tail before straightening out again.
But he wouldn't give up. I knew this, just as sure as I knew my own name – Camille Josephine O'Neal, aka Cami the Nanny.
One thing about Mason, he always got what he wanted. Including me.
And I meant that literally.
God, I'd been such an idiot.
But that was a story for another time, when I wasn't in the middle of grand-theft nanny-mobile.
The driver said, "Fuck! He's not giving up!"
I couldn’t resist. "Told ya."
The funny thing was, we weren't going terribly fast. The slick roads made it literally impossible – not to mention, the visibility was horrendous, like driving thorough a sea of swirling cotton balls.
In reality, we were driving barely above the speed limit. Still, we were going a lot faster than was safe – especially Mason. He didn't have four-wheel drive. No, what he had was a reckless disregard for his own safety.
Idiot.
But I guess I said that already, didn't I?
And even though our history had been on the rocky side, I knew in my heart, I'd be crushed if anything bad happened to him.
So who was the idiot now?
Me.
That's who.
As I watched, the sedan lurched forward, as if Mason had abandoned all reason. My stomach clenched. Oh, God.
I whirled forward and yelled to the driver, "Seriously, just stop, alright?"
"No way," he said. "I told you, that guy's fucking nuts."
I whirled again to look behind us. Oh, yeah. Mason had definitely lost his mind. Already, the sedan was closing in on us fast, like he was putting the pedal to the metal in spite of a million fluffy reasons to do just the opposite.
Suddenly, his sedan shifted lanes and roared forward. Within mere moments, it passed us in a blur of speed and disrupted snow.
The guy in the driver's seat said, "What the fuck?"
But then, a split-second later, Mason's car swerved directly in front of us. The female screamed, and I might've too.
It was like Mason wanted us to hit him.
The thought had barely crossed my mind when that's exactly what happened. With a sickening crash, our SUV slammed into the back of Mason's sedan and sent both of our vehicles spinning.
I heard a series of bangs as airbags deployed all around us – in the front and even on the sides. The guy in the driver's seat gave a girlish scream as we spun like five times before coming to a slow stop in the shallow ditch.
Frantically, I glanced around.
I was okay.
And so, apparently, were the two idiots in front, because already, they were arguing about whose fault it was.
The female yelled, "You should've swerved!"
He yelled back, "I did swerve!"
"Yeah, but you swerved too much!"
"What? You wanna drive?"
"I can't now," she said. "The car's toast."
Was it? I wasn't so sure. Yeah, maybe the front end was severely crumpled, but it's not like we were in a twisted heap of burning metal.
My heart clenched. But what about Mason?
I yanked off my seatbelt and lunged toward the side window. The side airbag had deployed at