POV: Leo
The crash I had braced for never came.
Instead of a metal-on-metal collision, Caruso executed a maneuver that only a man who had spent years fleeing the law could master. He didn't slam into Mark's car; he grazed it a calculated "PIT maneuver" at sixty miles per hour on a narrow mountain ledge. The impact sent a bone-jarring shudder through the SUV. Vitelli's head snapped back, his phone flying from his hand and vanishing into the footwell.
"What the hell are you doing?" Vitelli screamed, his face turning a sickly shade of white.
Caruso didn't answer. He wrestled the heavy SUV back into the center of the lane. The maneuver had forced Mark's sedan to fishtail, causing the ex-hockey player to slam on his brakes. For a fleeting second, we were parallel. I saw Ava's face pressed against the glass, her eyes wide with terror, her mouth open in a silent scream.
Then Caruso floored it.
