Ice dripped in her stomach.
There! A few hundred feet ahead—a parking bay. Francine gritted her teeth and held the wheel so tightly her knuckles went white. If she could park safely—get out of the car before the heavier eighteen-wheelers could stop—get to safety—
“Ms. Delacourt.” Julian’s voice was rough. “What is—are they—”
His eyes widened in alarm as he saw the side of the truck scraping across Francine’s window. Bruise-like shadows deepened around his eyes and down the sides of his neck. No, not shadows.Scales.
“No, don’t,” she blurted out. The scales suddenly faded. He went pale and shuddered.
Julian was in no shape to escape. He couldn’t even shift.
Her heart hammered in her throat. She’d intended to be chased. That was part of the plan. But notyet.
And the plan was to lure Lance and the others after her, not whoever this was.
One of Harper’s associates? Did he already know his attempt to kill Julian had failed? Or one of the potential bidders, trying to poach a prize before the auction began?
Francine set her jaw and screeched to a halt. The truck braked alongside her, blocking off the exit.Shit.
She scrambled under her seat. There was a handgun strapped to the bottom of the driver’s seat. Francine unhooked it and promptly fumbled it to the floor.
The driver was walking towards them.
“What are you doing?” Julian asked. His voice was steadier now, though his face was still too pale.
“That asshole’s going to—”
There was a knock on the window. Francine made one last lunge for the gun and managed to push it further under the seat.
“Hey,” the man outside called out. “Y’all alright in there?”
His breath fogged the window, and he rubbed it off to peer inside. His eyes went straight through Francine.
“Holy damn,” the trucker said. “What the fuck happened here?”
Francine stared at him. Up close, the trucker didn’t seem dangerous, unless you knew he’d just tried to run them off the road.
Julian cleared his throat. “I suspect he’s wondering how an empty car came to be driving itself along the highway,” he remarked.
“What?” Francine glared at him, and he nodded towards her white-knuckled fist. She forced her fingers open. Of course. She’d picked up the dragon scale … and Julian was still invisible. They both were.
That might explain why the trucker wanted you off the road,she thought,if he thought the vehicle was out of control.
And you were about to shoot him.
She took a deep breath that was more of a gasp and dropped the scale.
The trucker swore and jumped back from the car window. “Where the fuck did you come from?”
“Where did I come from?” It was easy to turn her self-recrimination outwards. “You just ran me off the god-damned road!”
There was a flicker in the corner of her eye; Julian reappearing. The trucker took another step backwards, his eyes wide.
“I swear I didn’t see you there, ma’am! I came round, it looked like there was nobody at the wheel…”
“Oh, when you almost ran me over the first time?” Francine grabbed for the door handle and felt Julian’s warning touch on her arm. “I should report you right now!”
The man’s face hardened. “Hey, watch it, lady. I was just trying to help,” he snarled. “You should be grateful, anyway, you—the fuck’s wrong with him?”
