"Not that we even really know what happened to your friend, Dev," Evan said, trying to roll the stiffness out of his shoulders. He'd been driving for six hours nonstop and they were getting close to Los Angeles.
Arrabelle had been working hard not to let her mind go down that path. If anything terrible had befallen Dev and the girls . . . no, Arrabelle couldn't let herself go there.
"Well, we'll be in L.A. soon," Arrabelle said, catching Lyse's eye in the rearview mirror. "And then we won't have to speculate anymore-"
The words were no sooner out of her mouth than the car hit something-a pothole, maybe-in the road and began to fishtail. Evan took his foot off the brake and turned the wheel, trying to keep the car under control.
"Hold on!" he shouted, gripping the steering wheel hard. Arrabelle could see his tense expression reflected back at her in the rearview mirror, lit green by the dashboard light.
A moment later the car righted itself. Evan sighed and began to pull off to the side of the road.
"No!" Niamh screamed, grasping the sides of her head in her hands as if she were in terrible pain. "They're right behind us."
"Keep going!" Lyse screamed, leaning forward and grabbing the back of Evan's seat. "Listen to Niamh and put your foot back on the goddamned gas!"
Evan did as he was told and slammed his foot down on the accelerator-but not before a pickup truck slammed into the back of them. It sent the red rental car sailing forward, the spinning wheels losing traction as Evan tried to accelerate.
"Go!" Niamh cried, her voice hoarse with fear. "They've got guns and they're going to kill us!"
A bullet slammed into the back window, cracking the glass, and Niamh screamed.
"Go, Evan! Go!" Lyse yelled, but Evan didn't seem to register what she was saying. He stared blankly ahead, head lolling-and that was when Arrabelle realized the bullet had found its mark.
Without thinking, she crawled halfway into the driver's seat and pressed her foot on the gas. The car shot forward, swerving wildly. The movement roused Evan and he grabbed the steering wheel, straightening out their path so they shot forward down the dark and empty highway.
"Are you okay?" Arrabelle cried, terror racing inside her as she tried to discover where he'd been hit.
"Okay," he said, gritting his teeth. "Just the top of my shoulder. I'm in shock, I think. You can take your foot off the gas now, Bell."
He turned his head and gave her a rakish grin. In that moment, with his chiseled cheekbones and shining eyes, she thought he was the most handsome man she'd ever seen.
"Evan," she cried, overwhelmed by the sense of relief that flooded through her.
"You can still drive?" Lyse asked.
Evan nodded.
"Then we have to get off this road," Lyse said. She had her seat belt off and was turned in her seat so she could stare out into the darkness through the busted window.
The bullet hole was tiny, but the glass had fractured like a giant spiderweb, making it hard to see through.
"Where?" Evan asked.
Lyse had a ready answer.
"There." She pointed ahead of them through the windshield at the bright lights of an all-night diner.
"No way," Arrabelle said. "We can't endanger anyone else's life-"
"Trust me," Lyse said. "I've got this. Just exit up there."
Arrabelle wanted to argue, but Evan placed a hand on her thigh.
"Let's do what Lyse says, Bell."
He gave Arrabelle a grin, and she swallowed hard, then nodded. Lyse was the master of their splintered coven, and Arrabelle still needed to learn to trust the other woman's instincts.
"Okay, here we go," Evan said as he indicated with his blinker and made the turn, exiting off the road and toward the diner.
"Go into the parking lot," Lyse said, "and then follow the asphalt around to the back."
"But it's a dead end," Arrabelle said, looking through the windshield. "There's nothing back there but a Dumpster."
"Yup," Lyse agreed, but she did not elaborate.
Arrabelle bit her lip as Evan reduced his speed and cruised through the brightly lit parking lot. A big, square sign flashed the name of the place-Tessa's Roadsider-in glaring fuchsia and hot pink, the acid colors washing across the black asphalt in psychedelic swirls of neon. There were about half a dozen cars parked in the lot and maybe double that number of people in the diner. No one gave the rental car a glance, their faces turned away from the plate-glass front windows of the retro diner.