Phoebe's POV
I kept my eyes closed, feeling the car speed through what sounded like an empty stretch of highway outside Clearwater. The driver's tense grip on the steering wheel was evident from the car's jerky movements and sharp turns, and I could sense his nervous energy from the way he kept shifting in his seat.
The passenger tried his phone again. Nothing. His jaw must have clenched as I heard him slam the device down. "Still dead. No damn signal."
His companion cursed under his breath, and I heard a fist connect with the door panel. "Son of a bitch!"
I remained perfectly still in the backseat, pressed against the leather with my eyes sealed shut, appearing completely out cold. The mountain of a man covered in ink sat beside me, and I could feel his presence looming.
I lay motionless, playing the part of the defenseless victim in my supposed unconscious state.
