Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

Winter gasped, and we lurched forward, Will holding her
tight as he planted his hand on the dash. I sped around another
curve, but then Will shouted at me.
“No, take the shortcut!” he yelled.
I jerked the steering wheel right, remembering St. Killian’s
sat across from a small river buried in the forest. There was a
bridge that cut through the space between here and Michael
and Rika’s, avoiding all the winding roads.
We could go faster without all the turns.
Anderson shot past, but I heard his tires screech to a halt
on the other road above as we hurried toward the bridge as fast
as we could.
I pressed my back into the seat, my arm locked straight on
the steering wheel, and my eyes zoned in on the road and
checking my mirror.
My blood raced, and if I weren’t so worried about her, I
might’ve been having a little fun. Of course, I wouldn’t have
run. I would’ve killed that motherfucker right there in the town
square. I’d just been caught up in getting her out.
Headlights flashed through my rearview mirror and the car
caught up to us again, charging behind.
It rushed up, and I tightened every muscle.
“Hold on,” I shouted.
It slammed into our ass, and liquid heat coursed down
every one of my limbs as I tried to outrun them.
I looked to Winter. “We’re almost there.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but the car rammed us
again, and we all lurched in our seats.
“Motherfucker!” I growled.
They slammed into us again. I took the wheel with both
hands trying to keep it steady.
And again.