Jessica Patch - Concealed Identity

And no one good had ever been inside.

Pulse skittering, she laid on the gas while her sister, Gigi, obliviously switched radio stations and rambled about lunch destination choices. She must have pressed the pause button with her on-again, off-again boyfriend who co-owned the Black-Eyed Pea. That was where they normally ate their meals, since neither had mastered the kitchen, unless peanut butter and jelly counted.

“It’s hotter than blue blazes.” Gigi lifted her hair, a shade lighter and a few inches shorter than Blair’s, from her neck. “You notice Mr. Hollywood noticing you at the auction this morning? Because I did. I also noticed you noticing him.”

Could she use notice in a sentence one more time?

Blair’s stomach roiled as she glanced in her side-view mirror again. The SUV continued to follow. Could be paranoia. She’d been looking over her shoulder since her late husband, Mateo, was gunned down in Colombia. Not long after their wedding, she’d discovered he was a drug lord in a major cartel and not the man she’d believed him to be. But at that point, it was too late to get out alive. Blair had shielded Gigi from that world of fear, and she wasn’t about to pull her into it now.

It’s a casual drive home. Act normal.

A few cars sped by. Not much traffic this Saturday morning. Her heart rate continued to elevate as memories surfaced, but she forced herself to engage in conversation. “He wasn’t noticing me. He was watching to see if I’d keep bidding on the storage unit.” He had been attractive, though. Built like a superhero made of steel. Dark scruff that did little to hide the deep dimple in his squared chin.

Okay, so she’d noticed. Every woman at the storage unit auction had perked up when he had swaggered onto the scene. Not just because he was movie star good-looking, but he was new to the monthly auctions. “That reminds me, did you see Ronnie Lawson or hear him mention he wouldn’t be there today?”

The SUV continued to ride her bumper. She was going seventy!

“How does Mr. Hollywood even remotely remind you of Ronnie?” She snorted. “I didn’t hear jack, but I know you’d have lost that unit if he had. He seems to enjoy outbidding you.” Gigi paused, her dark eyes concerned. “Hey, you okay? You look wigged out.”

Blair cleared her throat. “I’m fine.” She breathed evenly, pasted a fake smile on her face and hammered the gas pedal as she exited the ramp onto the outskirts of her small town of Hope, Tennessee. The place where she’d started over. Where her grandparents had lived most of their lives. The only place Blair had ever felt safe and at home. “Just feeling buyer’s remorse. I may have paid more than I should for that unit.”

She’d hoped the SUV wouldn’t have taken the ramp, too. But it had. What to do... What to do...

“You’ll know once you get home and inventory everything. So, about the guy. He looked exactly like Superman. Coal-black hair. And those eyes. No one has eyes that blue but Superman.”

At twenty-six, and two years younger than Blair, Gigi acted more like fifteen. She wasn’t going to let up on the hot topic. Mystery Auction Man was no Superman. Superman didn’t hold wildfire in his eyes. Red flags had flown high. She’d been duped by charm and good looks before and ended up marrying the man behind them. Never again. No more falling for liars and men who pretended to be one thing when they were something else entirely.

Blair changed lanes, the SUV stayed in the right one. Okay, maybe she was being paranoid after all. A few cars zinged by, leaving the bypass she was now on empty. Only them and the SUV.

“Fine,” Gigi said, “if you don’t want to talk about Mr. Hollywood, let’s talk about our brother. You heard from him?”

Another flop of her stomach. Jeremy hadn’t called or answered any of her texts and voice mails in several days. It wasn’t like she could pop on over to his apartment, since he lived in Memphis, though she’d tried to get him to move to Hope. Closer to her and Gigi since their father traveled regularly now that he was retired. Right now he was off in the West Indies and her brother was AWOL. Surely Jeremy hadn’t relapsed. He’d been doing so well. Lord, please keep Jeremy out of trouble again. Watch over him.

The SUV changed lanes and zoned in on her bumper. Blair white-knuckled the steering wheel and slid her upper lip into her mouth, concentrating. Thinking. Praying. Lord, let me simply be paranoid. She shifted back into the right lane, hoping the driver was in a hurry and would pass her.

Please. Please. Please.

Pulse pounding as they shifted in behind her, Blair inhaled and exhaled. “Can you turn the radio down?” She couldn’t think straight. Her head buzzed.

“Why?” Gigi lowered the volume but huffed. “Blair, what’s wrong with you?”

The SUV rammed the back of her truck.

Gigi squealed. “What was that?”

“Sit tight.” Blair increased speed. Nothing but fields for miles on their way home. Of course, she wasn’t dumb enough to try to make it there and lead her pursuer to the house, but she didn’t know where to go or what to do. She could hardly swallow.

She glanced in the rearview.

The SUV was gone!

But there it was in her side mirror, gaining.

“Reach under the seat and get my gun, Gigi!”

“Gun! You carry a gun?” Gigi’s eyes widened, hysteria and questions blaring loud and clear.

Blair didn’t have a choice. “Now is not the time. Get it,” she hollered, and floored it. Gigi’s hands trembled as she handed Blair her Glock.

“What are you going to do?” Gigi’s voice squeaked with panic.

Good question. She had to protect Gigi and herself. Blair had learned a thing or two—if only indirectly—being married to Mateo. Always be wary and always be on the offense.

She rolled her window down and aimed the gun, hoping her time at the gun range and some prayer would help her hit the tire and spin the SUV out.

Gigi’s anxious cries echoed through the cab.

Blair gripped the gun with clammy hands, lungs squeezing, and fired a round.

The SUV rammed her again, sending them lurching. What was that thing made of—steel? The passenger window lowered. A man she didn’t recognize, wearing dark glasses, raised the barrel of a gun.

Blair cracked off another shot, missing the tire, but hitting the metal around it. The SUV swerved, giving them time to veer ahead.

Gigi screeched.

Cracks sounded in the body of the truck.

“Lord, save us!” Blair prayed, then shifted in her seat. “Take the wheel and the gas!” she commanded, and raised her gun, firing at the tires again. Blood whooshed in her ears, and her throat had turned as dry as dead grass.

Gigi scooted over, gathered the wheel and replaced Blair’s foot with hers on the gas pedal. “I’m scared!”

“Me, too, G. Hold on and pray.” Blair didn’t want to hang out the window, but she couldn’t get a clear shot at the tire. What other choice was there? If she didn’t spin the SUV out, she and Gigi might get killed.

Blair turned in the driver’s seat and leaned out the window.

Another pop pierced the air, and the SUV struck the corner edge of her vehicle.

“I’m losing control,” Gigi shrieked, and flinched. “Blair!”

Her truck swerved and Blair whirled around to take the wheel, but it was too late. They sailed into the ditch on the right side of the road.

Shots were fired in rapid succession as if a gun war was happening behind them.

Blair’s head nailed the steering wheel. Her neck popped and a blinding pain shot clear to her toes. Gigi, eyes closed, slumped against the passenger-side door, her long walnut hair covering her face.

“Gigi!” Blair called.