"Mr. Sinclair, why are we stopping?" Nina Walsh asked, looking confusedly at Julian Sinclair in the passenger seat.
Julian Sinclair couldn't be bothered to explain. "Don't ask why. It's my car. Just stop it!"
Nina felt a frantic urgency, as if she were on fire. She had to get three million today, no matter the means.
Steeling herself, Nina didn't stop the car. Instead, she slammed the gas pedal to the floor, cranked the wheel, and veered onto a small road with no surveillance cameras.
Nina threw caution to the wind. The speed climbed sharply as the car fishtailed left and right, and Julian Sinclair's face in the passenger seat was slammed against the window.
"Are you crazy, woman?" Julian Sinclair yelled, grabbing the overhead grip handle.
"My apologies, Mr. Sinclair. Sit tight. We'll be there in a moment."
With that, the car surged forward again.
Ten minutes later, the speeding car screeched to a halt at an abandoned racetrack.
