Widow - Anne Stuart [81]
He could only guess she was heading toward Florence, though he couldn’t imagine why. She’d been driving so damned fast he couldn’t be certain she was in the driver’s seat, or if she was even alone. Hell, maybe she and Henry had patched it up and they were running off to get married.
It didn’t matter. He headed out of town after her, his bald tires skidding in the mud.
He caught up with her on the hill just outside of town, amazing considering how much more power her car had than his ancient rust bucket. He could see her fishtailing as she headed up the steep curve, and he sped up, trying to get one more ounce of power out of his old engine. His windshield wipers needed replacing, and he could barely see through the downpour, but Charlie’s brake lights were unmistakable as the car slid sideways ahead of him.
“Slow the fuck down,” he muttered beneath his breath, but Charlie wasn’t listening. The road was getting steeper, she was pulling away, and he considered honking his horn. If she knew he was following her she’d probably simply drive faster. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator, trying to catch up with her, and his tires spun.
She disappeared into the rain and mist, and he swore again, trying to get his stubborn old car to behave. By the time he reached the crest of the hill she was already out of sight.
He kept going, telling himself he was headed that way, anyway, telling himself that nothing would happen to her, telling himself to hurry the fuck up and find her.
When he did he almost missed seeing her. The Alfa was off to the side of the road, halfway up an embankment, the lights spearing wildly into the rain.
He slammed on his brakes, sliding on the greasy surface as he struggled to maintain control of his car. He just barely managed to bring it to a stop a few feet from the Alfa, and he jumped out of the car, willing himself not to panic.
She was sitting in the driver’s seat, the window rolled down and rain pouring in. “Go away,” she said in her calm, well-bred voice.
He ignored it, of course. She’d been telling him to go away since she first saw him. “Are you hurt? Can you get out of the car?”
“I’m not hurt, I can get out of the car, but I have no intention of doing so. Go away and leave me alone.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Charlie. You’ve got two flat tires and you’ve probably bent the frame. That car can’t be driven anywhere, it’s pouring rain and getting late. Get out of the damned car and I’ll take you someplace.”
“Go to hell, Maguire.”
He wasn’t in the mood for this. He hadn’t realized just how scared he’d been chasing her up and down these hills in the treacherous rain, and his uncertain temper snapped.
She’d locked the door, but she hadn’t closed the window. He reached in, opened the door from the inside and put his hands on her, preparing to haul her out.
“I’ll scream!” she said fiercely.
“Go ahead. There’s no one around to hear.” He yanked at her with just a trace more energy than he needed.
“At least let me get the damned seat belt off,” she snapped.
“You’re wearing a seat belt? I thought you had a death wish, considering the way you were driving.” She wasn’t making any effort to unfasten the belt, so he unfastened it for her, then pulled her out into the heavy rain. She sagged against him for a moment, and his panic was back in full force.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he demanded. “You didn’t hurt yourself?”
“I’m fine,” she said, pushing him away. “I wasn’t going that fast when I lost control.”
He had no choice but to believe her. “The Fiat’s over there.”
“I don’t want…”
“I know you don’t want, sweetheart. You don’t want anything to do with me. But you’re on a deserted road in the pouring rain, it’s getting dark, and you’re stuck with me. I’ll take you