One

Jamison Sambora looked over her shoulder. “Dammit.” She pressed harder on the accelerator. There was no way she was going to lose him with Richie’s winter beater. Christ, her brother’s car was a slug.

She slapped the steering wheel. “C’mon fuckin’ gerbils, let’s go.” She glanced up at the rearview mirror and sighed. “I don’t have time for you, Jerry,” she said out loud to no one but herself. Once upon a time it would have been fun to have him chase her. The badboy thing had been crazy attractive at first, but the whole possessive part of the deal. Yeah, she hadn’t signed on for that.

Her jaw fell open when he bumped her. “Okay, fuck face, that’s it.” She stomped on the brakes and he backed off for a second before he fishtailed behind her. The power behind his rear wheel drive Charger spun into a 180. His ass end faced hers, brake lights flaring an angry red.

She’d told Jerry to take a leap weeks ago, regardless of that hot car. It was a shame too—the Charger was fifty percent of his hot factor.

The roar in her ears died to a rumble. Okay good—he’d turn around and that would be the end of it. He just wanted to mind fuck her one more time. No surprise of course, it was his favorite pastime.

Suddenly, the rumble was back, flicking her adrenaline rush back to max. She peered into her rearview again, but instead of hauling ass, Jerry slammed his car into reverse. Instinct told her to gun it, but the POS stalled out on her.

Even as the car jerked, her neck whipped back. She slammed on her brakes, jamming the car into park but there was too much force in that v8 engine behind her. He pushed her toward the curve at Lookout Point.

No. No fucking way was she dying in this ugly green, second hand car. Not before Devotion got off their feet. Not before she got to play at CBGB’s in New York goddammit.

Pavement crunched into a gravel shoulder. “Fuck!” The retaining wall that made for such a pretty view of the lowlands was way too close. She shoved her shoulder into the door, her fingers gripped around the handle. It didn’t budge. “Jerry! You fuck!” The impact must have shifted the tin box of crap’s frame.

She rolled the window down and boosted herself up and out the window. She slid forward and her hip crashed into the slope where door met window. She gripped the side mirror, nearly falling out on her face.

Precious inches were lost when the perfectly shredded knee hole of her favorite jeans snagged on the handle. Hanging out the window, she shrieked like the girl she was.

Adrenaline tamped down the fear, but even the rush of endorphins couldn’t hold out when her nose was about six inches from pavement. Screaming again, she tried to claw her way up the dusty metal. Using every muscle she didn’t have in her belly—she swore to do more sit-ups if he didn’t kill her—she tried to swing up.

Reaching into the car, her nails punctured the headliner just inside the window. It ripped with her weight. Her ribs cracked into the door as she slid back inside as the car careened to the left. She held onto the outside of the door. “Okay, God…no more bad boys. I promise.” She looked up, the pop and snap of a rib at her side made her suck in a breath. “I promise!”

Her hip twisted against the wheel as her the opposite side of her car, swung out to smash against the half wall. She couldn’t see his face. The back of his car was sloped low so all she could see was the wide beast of chrome and shiny black.

“Jerry!” What was wrong with him? She didn’t get guys worked up like this for God’s sake. He was screwing around with Barbie D’Anatto. He couldn’t be that into her.

Jerry’s tires spun as metal crunched against metal. She heard the squeal of another set of tires and a white car skidded across the highway and into the shoulder. Jerry stopped backing into her. His transmission clunked and shuddered into drive and rubber caught on gravel, spraying it into her face.

Thank God. She looked up at the cloudless January sky. Thank you God! Slumped forward, she winced.

“Jamison!”

His voice kicked on the brutal wind that she could now feel. Damn adrenaline rush was on its way out. She heard his voice again. Great, now she was hallucinating.

It was okay, his voice was better than Jerry’s. If she was going to die, at least it was with Jon’s voice in her head.