“Would you like to make any more stops before heading back to Callahan House, Mrs. Callahan?”
I consider it for a moment, then shake my head. “That’s alright. We can head home.”
He nods and closes the door behind me before sliding into the driver’s seat.
The drive back to Bay Ridge is quiet. I’m distracted by my phone, drafting a text to Dad that I’ve been putting off for days.
Hey Daddy. I’ve been thinking about coming back to LDS now that it’s the new year. I’ve had enough time off post-wedding to last me a lifetime. Ready to get back to work as PR Director. I’m sure I can talk Ronan into it.
I hit send and watch the screen, waiting.
The reply comes a minute later.
It’s for the best if you keep your distance from LDS right now.
I frown, typing back immediately.
Why?
His response is just as cryptic.
For reasons you won’t understand.
What the hell is he talking about?
I stare at the messages, my stomach twisting with unease. Does this have something to do with the conflict with the Albanians? Or is it more about the tensions between my family and the Callahans?
Things aren’t exactly warm and fuzzy between them, but I was under the impression everything was at least cordial. Business as usual.
But the vibe from Dad’s messages gives a whole different energy.
I decide not to respond, sliding my phone into my purse with a sigh. I’ll figure it out later. Maybe call him and Mom tonight when I can actually press for answers.
A Hummer appears seemingly out of nowhere.
It crashes onto the street behind us, engine roaring, and starts tailgating so closely I can barely see anything else through the rear window. Fionn’s eyes snap to the rearview mirror, his jaw muscles flexing.
“Are these motherfuckers really riding my ass like I think they are?”
Before I can answer, the Hummer surges forward and rams into the back of us.
The impact throws me forward, my seatbelt catching hard against my chest. The Rolls-Royce veers partially out of our lane, and Fionn fights to recover, his knuckles white on the steering wheel as he straightens us out.
But the Hummer’s not giving up. Not even close.
It pulls up on our left, so close sparks fly and metal grinds against metal with a horrific screech. They’re trying to force us off the road. I’m screaming, gripping the overhead handle as Fionn cusses and swerves, fighting to keep the car from jumping the curb and plowing onto the sidewalk where pedestrians are walking.
Other cars honk and slam on their brakes. Suddenly we’re barreling down the wrong side of the road, headlights flashing, horns blaring.
Then police sirens wail behind us.
The Hummer peels off instantly, tires squealing as it flees the scene.
Fionn finally gets control of the car and we come to an abrupt halt in the middle of the street, the engine smoking, the once pristine luxury vehicle banged up and scraped to hell.
My hands are shaking. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears.
Someone just tried to run us off the road, and by no means was it an accident.