Chapter 11
Nell didn’t have to tell bald Curly that she hadn’t driven for a while and no, driving wasn’t like riding a bike. She kind of sucked at that, too, with or without the gun pointed at her. She’d never been that great at self-propulsion. And it was hard to get better at it in a city with a million-plus pot holes. Just saying. Okay, just thinking, cuz even talking was outside her skill set at the moment.
“Do you have a driver’s license?”
The question sounded like it emerged from between gritted teeth. She did not have time to verify that. Steering an unfamiliar car down narrow, rutted streets with other cars playing chicken required all her attention—well, the parts left over from worrying about Curly and that gun she assumed was still pointed at her.
“Wyoming one.” Barely. She’
