Copyright © 2011 Aimee Laine

The in-dash display of Charley Randall’s burgundy roadster read eleven fifty. She needed every minute until midnight to reach her destination. Pedal to floor, the car hugged the curves with nothing more than a slight adjustment left or right. Headlights burned through the dark, illuminating the double, center lines.

Charley blew past warning signs for fallen rock, deer and the oncoming dead end at double the posted speed. She relied on her knowledge of her mountain’s terrain to get her home in one piece.

Another check of time revealed only eight minutes remained.

Her teeth ground together, knuckles paled. “You’ll make it, Char.” She blew out the breath she held and pounded the leather wheel with her palm. If she hadn’t stayed late for a celebratory drink, she’d have been on time.

The clock blinked eleven fifty-five.

She pressed the accelerator, as if to will the car faster, but slowed as the most dangerous of turns approached.

Eleven fifty-six.

The rapid blink of a vehicle’s emergency lights jumped into view as she rounded the curve. A single gasp accompanied the swerve. The steering wheel shook under her palms as the tires objected to the force of her turn and squealed into the dark of night. A cloud of dust rose around her as the car slid to the edge of the road and came to rest in a shallow ditch.

Eleven fifty-eight.

The engine stalled; the blink of the other car’s lights continued as voices called out in cries of worry.

Charley pounded the wheel with her fist. She grabbed a tendril of hair. The ends reflected her natural onyx while the rest shimmered with the gold she’d chosen for her last assignment. “I have ’til twelve!”