A Fare To Remember_ Just Whistle_Driven - Vicki Lewis Thompson [49]
“Here’s your chance,” Mario said.
The yellow cab pulled up to the curb in front of a clearly upscale condo building, only this one had no doormen—at least, none out at the early hour of the morning. After a moment where Rachel assumed he was paying the driver, Roman got out. Almost instantaneously, a tall, slim brunette emerged from the shadows.
And made a beeline for Roman.
Rachel sat forward, watching out of the corner of her eye as the cab Roman had ridden in pulled away. He didn’t seem to notice. His attention was one hundred and ten percent on the leggy brunette.
“Now, who is she?” Mario asked.
Rachel opened her mouth to ask the same question, but before she could, the brunette with the waist-length, glossy black hair grabbed Roman by the lapels and tugged him into a hot, hard kiss.
“Holy shit.”
They’d cursed in unison.
Rachel reached for the door handle. Mario grabbed her by the elbow.
“You have your answer. Rachel, let it be,” he said, his dark eyes glossy with warning.
Rachel looked at his hand with disdain, but then quickly realized he just wanted to protect her. She appreciated the sentiment, but she could slay her own dragons. She’d sliced a few open in her lifetime. She could again.
“Yes, I do. Mario, trust me on this.” Her gaze flicked to Roman, who was still swapping spit with the Cheron-a-stick look-alike in skintight leather jeans. “I will not let that man, or any man, walk all over me. Never have, never will.”
Mario released her arm, and before she lost one ounce of indignation, Rachel pushed out of the cab. Sure, she and Roman had never pretended to be exclusive. Hell, they’d never even talked the matter over. But while Rachel Marlowe may have grown up with three sisters, she’d never learned to share. Especially not her lovers.
As soon as she was close enough, she tapped the chick in the boob-hugging turtleneck on the shoulder and said a polite excuse me. Once. Twice.
The exotic brunette turned slowly, her eyes a dreamy onyx mix of shadows and mystery. “May I help you?”
Rachel grinned. “Actually, yes. Could you step aside?”
The woman complied, giving Rachel a perfect shot with her fist on Roman’s jaw. “You son of a bitch!”
Roman barely flinched, but his eyes widened and his face, so healthy and tanned less than half an hour ago, lost all color. He grabbed Rachel by the arm and yanked her behind him so quickly, she lost her footing on the dew-slippery sidewalk.
He turned and shot a finger out at her. “Stay there.”
With a spin, he faced the woman in black, who’d gone into an odd fighting pose. He raised his hands in front of him, as if she was going to attack. “Dom, don’t get crazy.”
The woman’s stare was ice. “I don’t get crazy, Brach. But if you don’t keep that—”
Her threat was cut off by the squeal of tires. Rachel half expected Mario to come riding to her rescue, but instead she saw a dark sports car approaching, headlights off. She narrowed her gaze, and at the same moment that she noticed something protruding from the passenger-side window, Roman dove over her, shielding her body as gunfire rent the air.
Rachel screamed. Bullets shot from the car and pinged nearby. Then return fire exploded near her ears.
From the barrel of Roman’s own gun.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE INCIDENT LASTED LESS than three seconds, but Roman could have sworn a painful, torturous hour had passed before the bullets stopped piercing the sidewalk. The attacker in the sports car sped away, tires screeching. Domino darted into the street, firing her weapon until the distance made her shots wasteful. The agent dashed back to him just as he was rolling off of Rachel. Leave it to his superiors to send his former lover, Domino Black, as his contact.
“Rachel,