“Kipling, keep an eye on black truck,” Victoria said sharply. “I believe its following us.”
“On it,” Kipling replied. He locked eyes on the pickup and its license plate.
Victoria’s grip on the wheel tightened as she changed lanes to test her suspicion. The pickup shadowed their every move. A knot of tension coiled in her stomach.
“I’m taking us off 288,” she muttered, signaling to exit on to US Route 59. The lights of the city blurred past as she led the SUV onto Interstate 10, then North Main Street. Despite a series of deliberate turns—right onto Hogan Avenue, left onto Fulton Street, another left onto Quitman Avenue—the pickup stayed glued to them.
“They’re still on us,” Kipling said, his voice tight.
Yoakum cursed under his breath, fumbling to load his pistol. “We need to lose them Vic,” he said his breath coming quick.