6. Traffic Lights and Accidents

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So so sorry for the late update. I've been busy with college and work and just everything else going on in my life. I'll do my best to get back to a regular updating schedule of once a week at least, but I can't make any promises.

Nicky's POV

"Where are we going now?" I question.

Ryder doesn't reply and stares straight ahead at the road in front of him. Occasionally he drums his fingers along the steering wheel.

Hell, I don't even know if he is staring ahead at the road. Those stupid sunglasses cover his eyes. For all I know, he's rolled his eyes so far back into his head they're stuck there and he's just decided not to say anything about it.

Yes, I realize how ridiculous that sounds.

And yes, I realize there's no probability of that actually happening.

I glare at him when he continues not to respond. It doesn't seem to affect him. He doesn't seem to notice. He's in his zone. Which I guess is good. I mean, the way I see it, it's both good and bad.

Good that he's taking his job so seriously because that means, contrary to my original belief, I'll be relatively safe with him.

I say relatively safe because I'm still not a hundred percent sure he won't pitch me off a cliff if he gets the chance.

Bad, because now any hope I have to get away is squashed. Well, unless I actually bring physical harm to him. I have a couple tasers that are a tad bit defective. They scramble all your brain cells and then knock you out. Tasers aren't supposed to knock people out. That's why they're a tad bit defective.

I stare out the window as we pass by several houses and business. I start to make a habit out of counting out all the houses with the same basic architecture. And, just for the hell of it, I count out loud so Ryder can hear me.

"Eight. Nine."

"Shut up."

"Twelve. Thirteen."

"I will reach over and toss you out the window."

"Fifteen. Sixteen."

"One more number. Say it. I dare you."

I glare at him and open my mouth to do just that when I notice something in the rearview mirror. Something I should have noticed before. I mentally curse myself at the dismissal I had made of it earlier.

"Uh, Agent Stevenson?"

He ignores me.

"Agent Stevenson."

Still ignoring me.

"Ryder!"

"What?" He shouts, his knuckles white on the grip he's got on the steering wheel and his jaw clenched.

"You know that car I told you about?"

"Yes, the black Hummer. I've been keeping an eye out for it," He replies. "It's not following us, but I would have heard from the other agents if they'd been able to locate it."

"Yeah, that one," I respond, my gaze still on the rearview mirror. "But maybe I should have also mentioned the motorcycle."

"What motorcycle?"

"There was a motorcycle parked two houses down. I didn't think anything of it. No one was on it, but . . ."

"But, what?"

"It's behind us."

Ryder takes his gaze off the road long enough to look in the rearview. He lets out a string of very colorful curse words. "Are you sure that's the same motorcycle?"

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