Ice Blue - Anne Stuart [40]
She closed her eyes. She was holding herself in so tightly that her skin ached, and she slowly, cautiously began to relax. The tremors had finally stopped, leaving only a stray shiver dancing across her back, and after a moment she let out her breath, leaning back against the leather seat as he sped through the night.
He was driving so fast. If they had any kind of accident they’d be dead, instantly. She didn’t care. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know he was watching her. She knew that feeling far too well. It was what had started the entire nightmare—his watching her at the museum reception. At this point all she wanted to do was make her mind a blank. What had he told her before—think about the ocean? The blue-green ocean rolling in waves onto the shore, even, steady, throughout eternity, never changing, the sound a rushing whisper of comfort in her ear.
The siren startled her out of her trance, and her eyes flew open. Taka’s face was starkly beautiful in the reflection of the flashing lights, but there was no emotion as he pulled the SUV to the side of the road and cut the engine.
He kept his hands in sight on the steering wheel, clearly used to dealing with cops, and remained very still as two of L.A.’s finest loomed in front of the window.
“License and registration. Slowly.”
He leaned over, past her, towards the glove compartment, and for a moment she was terrified that he was going to pull out a pistol. But there was nothing inside the space but papers, and he drew them out, handing them to the cop, who flashed a bright flashlight into the interior of the car, illuminating her face.
She must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights, she thought, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. Here was rescue, safety, and she opened her mouth to speak.
Takashi took her hand in his, in a gesture that would have looked reassuring to the police. Only she knew the warning implicit in his touch.
“You all right, miss?” one of them asked, as the other went to call in the license and registration. “You look upset.”
Taka couldn’t stop her from saying something, couldn’t stop them from helping her if she asked for it. She shouldn’t hesitate—she knew nothing about the man beside her except that he was very dangerous.
She opened her mouth. “I’m…I’m fine,” she said, stumbling a bit beneath the warning pressure of his hand on hers. “My boyfriend was just taking me out for a drive and he goes a little too fast.”
Jesus Fucking Christ, why had she said that? Why in God’s name had she called him her boyfriend, of all things, as if they were high school students? Why had she claimed any kind of relationship with him at all? She looked at Taka, but his expression was still determinedly neutral, and then the other cop was back.
“He’s clean,” he told his partner, ignoring them. “Diplomatic immunity. Cut ’em loose. We gotta get up to the Sansone Museum—there’s been a break-in and a couple of guards have been killed.”
They’d taken the flashlight off her face, so they didn’t see her jerk in shock, didn’t hear the noise of protest that escaped her before Taka’s hand tightened again on hers.
“Drive slower, Mr. Ortiz,” one of the officers said sternly. “You’re a guest in this country, and you wouldn’t want to wear out your welcome.”
“I’ll do my best. Thank you, Officer.” His voice was smooth, liquid, tinged with a Spanish accent, and in the light Taka almost looked Hispanic. She stared at him in shock as the blue and red lights flashed across his face, then vanished as the police car pulled out into the road, lights still pulsing as it headed up toward the hills.
He released her hand, and she flexed her fingers instinctively. “Why didn’t you ask them for help?”
“You didn’t want me to, did you? I thought that death grip on my hand was telling me to keep quiet.”
“I didn’t necessarily think that would stop you.”
“It wouldn’t have.” She wasn’t quite