Chapter 14: Truck Rollover

"If not him, then who?" Katie couldn't make sense of it.  The whole thing felt strange, but she finally shook her head. Whatever was going on, it probably had nothing to do with Wesley.  Either way, getting the money back was what mattered most, so she put it out of her mind for now. There was a traffic light up ahead. When the Maserati reached the intersection, the light turned red, and Wesley had to stop and wait. In the left lane, a heavy truck was waiting, its bed stacked with steel pipes. It had been moving quickly, but the sudden red light made the driver slam the brakes, trying to stop at the crosswalk. Just then, a sedan raced up from behind, squeezing into the gap. Quick and nimble, it swerved in front of the truck and braked hard at the crosswalk, grabbing the spot where the truck should have stopped. With a loaded truck, all that weight means a lot of momentum, and a sharp turn can flip the whole thing over.  But the sedan had cut in so suddenly that instinct took over.  The truck driver slammed the brakes and jerked the wheel right, trying to dodge the car that had darted in front. An accident happened. The truck skidded and rolled onto its right side. Plenty of people were waiting at the light, unaware of any danger until it was right on top of them.  Wesley's Maserati was in the neighboring lane, the closest to the tipping mass. If the truck had come down on them, the Maserati would have been flattened like a pancake, and he and Katie would have had almost no chance of surviving. But this was Wesley Kershaw. The moment the truck started to tip, he felt it.  He slammed the accelerator, and the Maserati shot forward like a rocket. In the space of a heartbeat, he got out from under the falling truck and sped toward the far side of the road. He quickly zigzagged through the intersection, weaving away from the cross traffic, missing the crash by a hair. He'd run the red, but they were alive. He made it. The cars behind weren't so lucky.  Several got clipped by the falling truck, and a red Bentley took the worst of it. Two pipes tumbled off the truck and smashed onto the Bentley's rear, crushing it flat. Screams and blaring horns filled the air. Around the truck, the whole road was locked up in a tangled mess of gridlock. The sudden jolt had thrown Katie back in her seat, and she screamed. She still didn't know what had happened. When she turned, she saw the truck lying on its side, right where they'd just been waiting. Only then did she realize how close they'd come. They had brushed past the Grim Reaper. If not for Wesley's lightning-fast reflexes, they'd be dead.  She shot him a grateful look. Wesley said nothing. He pulled the Maserati onto the roadside and parked. Behind them, traffic was already chaotic.  Worst of all was the sedan that started it all. When the light turned green, the driver acted as if nothing had happened and drove away. It made people furious, and the driver would have his excuse: his car never touched the truck. "That sedan just took off! What a jerk!" someone shouted. Others stared after the Maserati in awe. "Holy crap, that Maserati was wild, and the driver's reflexes were even crazier." "Yeah, if he had been even a second slower, that truck would've flattened him." "God-tier driving. I've never seen reflexes like that." Katie and Wesley climbed out. Hearing the crowd, Katie flushed. After that, how could she doubt Wesley had a license? Who could pull that off at the last second without one? She stole a glance at him and murmured, "Thanks, Wesley." "Don't mention it. You're my wife, after all," Wesley said, running a hand gently through her hair. "You jerk!" Katie blurted, stepping out of his reach. "Help! Save my daughter!" A woman with a striking figure bolted from the Bentley's front seat and ran to the rear.  The pipes had crushed the car's back end. She seemed unharmed, but her daughter was trapped in the rear seat, her fate unknown. The woman tugged at the back door, but the body was so twisted the door was jammed shut.  People rushed over, pulling and prying. Someone produced tools. A crowd of people gathered around the bent door, all trying to pry it open. "Call an ambulance!" "Call the police!" People pulled out their phones and called 911. Still, everyone understood how grim it was. The girl in the back probably had only the slimmest chance of surviving. Wesley hurried over to help.  As he reached the group, he heard the woman's voice, sharp with rage, into her phone. "Find me that sedan driver and kill him!" Wesley stopped short. This woman was far from an average person. He took in her black, body-hugging dress, her slender waist, and her striking height, with a figure that was pure fire. Her face was stunning, too. Wesley had been around enough to think he'd seen it all, but he had rarely seen anyone so dangerously alluring, curvy in all the right places. The woman was built like trouble, the kind of beauty that made men's minds wander.  At this moment, though, panic was written all over her face. Even if the girl in the back was only her goddaughter, she wanted no harm to come to her. After a frantic effort, the door gave. They carried out a little girl, limp and unconscious, her forehead slick with blood.  Someone spread a jacket on the asphalt and lay her down. "Is there a doctor here? Who's a doctor? Please, save my daughter," the woman cried, her phone already put away. Whatever commanding air she'd had a moment ago was gone, stripped by fear. The accident happened out of nowhere. What were the odds a doctor would be right there? Even if there was one, not everyone dared to step in. People had been sued and shaken down often enough to be cautious. Seeing no help, the woman grew even more frantic. Wesley stepped forward.  Just then, he saw a faint, girl-shaped shadow slowly lifting away from the child's body.