Charlie's Devil

12- "Trust me."

^Mood.

I walked back to my car while sipping my lemonade, and pulled out my phone. The sun was beginning to set now, and cast a shadow on Verona.

I opened the door of my car and slid in, turning my car on and blasting the lights to full.

I put my phone down, and put my car into drive, simultaneously sipping on my lemonade.

I felt it almost as soon as I got to the main road.

I was trained to detect any sort of anomalies in any given situation. And in Verona, a town of primary wealth and colour, seeing a tattered black SUV following at a slow pace behind you, it was pretty damn clear what was happening.

I immediately sped up the car, but flinched as the touch screen system on my car began playing a ringtone.

I frowned as Frazier's name flashed, and swiped to answer.

"Stop the car." He said instantly, and I frowned, looking in the rear view mirror. "No, that's not me. Just stop the car, Charlotte. Trust me."

I don't know why I did. But I did. Still. Somehow.

I pressed on the breaks at such a force that it physically pushed my from my seat.

Beside me, a car swerved to a stop, causing dust to fly up. My jaw dropped as Frazier jumped out of the moving car, which continued to roll and knocked off the black SUV behind me.

I blinked in pure shock as he ran to my car, and I moved up reflexively, leaving the driver's seat open.

He got in, and began the car immediately before speeding it through the lanes, clearly running from someone.

"I leave," He gritted out. "And you do too?"

I blinked in shock, struggling to even hear him clearly above the roar of the engine.

"You... your car?" I breathed out.

"Fuck my car," he glanced at my rear view mirror. "And fuck these Bastards for always trailing me."

He sped up further, and I gulped. He sighed. "Snap out of it, Charlotte."

And I did. I pulled my gun from my waist, and pulled down the mirror to look behind me.

"Do you see it?" He asked. I nodded. "Don't shoot everyone. Not to kill. I wanna know who these fuckers are. Shoot the tires."

I hated taking instructions. I hated it more than anything known to mankind. But somehow, with Frazier, I barely even noticed.

I nodded once, and pulled my sunglasses down from my forehead before opening the window. I angled my body slightly, took aim, and shot.

But clearly these motherfuckers were trained. The driver swerved to entirely miss the incoming bullet.

"Wrong angle." He said. "The driver is who you aim for. Always."

Another thing I hated. Being told I'm wrong. Another scenario in which it didn't apply with him.

I quickly looked around to try to figure out what to do. He already knew, as did I, but I tried to find a different way.

But there was none. Both Frazier and I ducked as a bullet smashed through the windows of my car, and then I quickly scrambled into his lap.