PUT ON YOUR DAMN SEAT BELT!”The Bronco jumped a curb, clipped a mailbox, and then fishtailed back onto the street. We had three or four squad cars behind us, sirens blaring, hot pursuit. I had a bump on my forehead from whacking it against the dashboard. Not what I’d been hoping for. I wanted to get thrown through the front windshield and splattered on the pavement. Let it end already.Phin reached over, his hand seeking my seat belt. Not the easiest thing to do while cruising fifty miles an hour down a heavily populated side street. I shoved his arm away. We were in a residential area, single-family homes with carefully manicured front lawns. A place where you’d get married and settle down.Something I’d fucked up twice.He stopped trying to save my life and instead fiddled with his police band. I caught the word Staties.“They’re calling in the state cops. We’re screwed.”I didn’t care. Getting arrested was the least of my worries.“Come on, Jack. Give me a suggestion here.”“Ditch the car.”He made an aggressive lane change, my shoulder bouncing off the passenger door.“And try to make it on foot?
