Poppy Harmon and the Pillow Talk Killer by Lee Hollis (famous ebook reader .txt) 📗

Finally, with only seconds to spare before Axel was able to hurl himself on top of the hood, Matt managed to put the car in drive and speed away, leaving Axel choking in the dust.

Chapter 22

The strong, gusty Santa Ana winds started bearing down on the Coachella Valley as Matt and Poppy sped home on Gene Autry Trail from Desert Hot Springs, swirling up a dust storm so thick and heavy, Matt had to flip on the wipers to remove the sand from the windshield so he could see where he was going.

Poppy was about to suggest Matt pull off to the side of the road until the storm dissipated or at least calmed down, but before she had the chance, she heard a loud rumbling noise closing in on them from behind. She cranked her head around, trying to make out what it was but the whipping dust flying up from the surface obscured visibility.

Poppy turned back around to see Matt, his uninjured hand gripping the wheel, eyes fixed on the road, driving with extreme caution. Nothing was in front of them but wide open road from what they could see through the massive dust storm.

Suddenly Poppy heard the rumbling again and the next thing she knew it was now right outside the window. She could make out a man riding a motorcycle, zipping along on the passenger side of the Prius.

“Matt . . .” Poppy began warning him.

“I see him! There’s another one coming up on my side!”

Poppy stared out the back window and saw a second bike with two men on it, roaring up fast. The man riding shotgun kicked his leg out and smashed one of the car’s taillights with the heel of his boot.

Poppy whipped back around to see the bike outside her side swerve in close. A black leather-gloved fist smashed against the glass, causing it to crack and startle her.

“Hold on!” Matt yelled, slamming his foot down on the gas pedal, lurching them forward in a desperate attempt to lose the bikers.

“Matt, what’s happening?” Poppy cried.

Matt didn’t answer because he was solely focused on shaking their pursuers. It quickly dawned on Poppy that Axel was probably mad enough about Matt backing over his Harley that he had called in reinforcements from his biker gang in order to get revenge. In fact, the dust cleared enough for Poppy to recognize Axel as the one riding shotgun. The bike on Matt’s side managed to speed up alongside the car, up close to Matt’s window, where Axel leered at them, enjoying how much he was frightening them. The fat, bald, intimidating guy driving the bike swerved in, inches from colliding with the Prius, forcing Matt to jerk the wheel. Poppy felt her whole body fly to the right. She was strapped down by the seat belt, but still banged her head against the cracked window.

“Are you okay?” Matt shouted, eyes still glued to the road.

“Yes, Matt, but please, slow down!”

“I can’t! They’re trying to run us off the road, and if that happens, there’s no telling what they might do to us!”

His logic made perfect sense.

Matt then began cranking the wheel left and right, in quick jerky motions, forcing the bikes to pull out and give the car a wider berth. Then, without warning, an eighteen-wheeler appeared out of nowhere in front of them, horn blaring, heading straight at them. Poppy screamed as Matt realized he had drifted onto the wrong side of the road and was now on a head-on collision course with the big rig.

The motorcycles fell back, disappearing in the dust storm behind them. With seconds to spare, Matt wrenched the wheel as hard as he could and the Prius flew off the paved road into the desert sand, hurtling forward. In front of them was a giant billboard with a State Farm insurance advertisement. Poppy opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. She was in a state of shock. And unlike the ill-fated car stunt on the movie set where Matt had luckily avoided crashing into the Joshua tree by swerving at the last possible second and flipping the car over, in this moment there was not even time to do that before the Prius, in what felt like slow motion, slammed into one of the large metal columns that held up the billboard. The car crunched up like an accordion, airbags exploding open, glass shattering everywhere, and then everything went black.

Chapter 23

When Poppy slowly came to, she could feel a pair of hands untangling her from the strap of the seat belt and then grabbing her from underneath her arms, pulling her from the wreckage of the car. The next thing she knew she was lying flat on her back in a bed of sand. When she tried opening her eyes, the harsh light from the blazing desert sun caused her to squint and forced them to close again.

“Poppy, can you hear me?” Matt asked gently, slipping a hand behind her head and holding it so she was slightly upright.

Poppy nodded, although she wasn’t quite sure. She wiggled her fingers and toes, which seemed to work fine, and then raised an arm up, covering her eyes with her forearm, and slowly began to sit up.

Matt immediately braced her back with the palm of his hand to steady her. “Are you okay?”

“I think so. . . .” Poppy mumbled before clutching Matt’s other bloody hand tightly and using it to help haul herself to her feet.

“What happened to the bikers?” Poppy asked.

“They took off right after we crashed.”

Matt noticed Poppy staring at the demolished Prius. “I know, can you believe it? Second car I destroyed in less than a week. Maybe I should rethink my dream of becoming a NASCAR driver.”

“Where are we?” Poppy asked, glancing around at the swirling dust in the middle of nowhere.

“Somewhere between Desert Hot Springs and Palm Springs,” Matt said.

Matt stared up at the State Farm