“Force us off the road.” He cursed as with another screech, the sports car slid into them again. Libby shoved the back of her hand into her mouth, trying to hold back another scream as Tony jerked the wheel sideways to escape.
“Hold on. I’m going to try to lose them.” He punctuated his sentence by flooring the gas pedal, throwing Libby back against the seat with a burst of automotive power. Libby bit her bottom lip and braced herself with a hand against the dashboard, carefully juggling the cup of hot coffee in her other hand.
“We’re going to have to get off this stretch of highway,” Tony muttered, exploding with an expletive as a gunshot shattered their back windshield.
“Oh, God, they’re shooting at us,” Libby squeaked in terror.
Tony placed his hand on the top of her head and shoved her down on the seat next to him. “Keep your head down,” he commanded. “I’ve got to get us off this highway. Right now we’re sitting ducks for them.”
Libby didn’t need to be told twice to keep her head down. Her body strained against the confines of the seat belt, but she was barely aware of the cutting sensation. She crouched with her head against Tony’s thigh, hardly conscious of the hot coffee that had splashed on her jeans. “I spilled my coffee,” she remarked inanely, as the rest of the dark liquid quickly spread across the beige carpeting on the floor of the car.
“If we get out of this mess, you can pay for the car wash,” Tony replied tersely as he suddenly wrenched the steering wheel to the right, causing the tires to squeal as he turned off the highway and onto a bumpy dirt road.
Libby’s stomach did a series of erratic flip-flops, making her grateful she hadn’t eaten anything. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed as she heard the resounding echo of more gunfire and Tony rounded another corner on what felt like two wheels. “Why do I suddenly get the feeling that I’m living out a scene from a ‘Miami Vice’ rerun?” she gasped, looking up at him from her crouched position on the seat.
“If you happen to see Don Johnson around, tell him we could use his help.” Tony’s jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed to mere slits of concentration.
Libby closed her eyes once again as the car continued to travel bumpy back roads at bone-jarring high speed. She could hear the sound of tree branches swishing by and scratching the sides of the car as they flew over roads that were no more than cattle tracks.
As they zoomed over a particularly hard bump, Libby grasped Tony’s thigh tightly.We’re going to die,she thought, surprised that the thought brought with it no hysterical fear, only an intense anger because they were going to die and she wasn’t sure why.
They would either have a wreck and die, or the men chasing them would catch them and kill them. She could envision Vinnie at her grave site, his grief deep and despairing. It wasn’t fair…none of this was fair. She hadn’t asked for any excitement in her life. She hadn’t wanted an adventure.
“We’ve lost them.” Tony’s voice intruded into her morbid thoughts and she suddenly realized the car had slowed down.
“Are you sure?” she asked breathlessly, not moving from her position.
“I’m sure,” he replied. “But I’m not sure what’s worse, the claws on your cat or the claws on you.”
His words made Libby realize that her fingers still dug into his thigh. “I’m sorry.” She released her death grip on his thigh and sat up. “Like Twilight, I’ve also had all my shots.”
He smiled at her, his eyes still radiating with dangerous glints. “Are you all right?” he asked tersely.
Libby shrugged and grinned jauntily. “Of course I’m fine. My pawnshop and apartment were vandalized. Some creep crept into my bedroom and put his filthy hand all over my mouth, a guy tried to strangle me in a McDonald’s parking lot. I’ve got hot coffee burning a blister in my leg and I’ve just finished participating in a high-speed chase through the backwoods of the Ozarks. Heck, why shouldn’t I be fine?” She realized she was on the verge of hysteria, but didn’t know how to control it.
He pulled the car off into the thick growth at the side of the road, then shut off the engine. For a moment they both sat still, the interior of the car darkened by the thick brush that surrounded it. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, his dark eyes gazing at her intently.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied tremulously, taking in a deep breath of air.
“Let me see that neck of yours.” He turned in his seat and eyed her critically. Beneath the heavy gold necklace, the angry redness of her neck was already turning a vivid blue. “Damn them,” he breathed, his fingers lightly caressing the smooth silkiness of the skin just above the bruised area. “Does it hurt much?” he asked, his dark gaze shining with anger, and something else…something that caused Libby’s breath to come unevenly.
She shook her head, unsure whether her sudden breathlessness was a delayed reaction to her fear, or the result of the soft, gentle touch of his hand against the sensitive area of her throat.
“I promise you, nobody will get the chance to hurt you again. I’ll kill them first,” he promised and as he pulled her into the circle of his arms, she believed him.
But she didn’t want to think about death. The scent of death had surrounded her for too long. The memory of the albino’s cold hands on her arms had been like the fingers of death reaching out for her.
She wanted life. She wanted the feel of Tony’s warm, vital body to chase away the last lingering vestiges of the graveyard. She needed to lose herself in his very aliveness.
As he swept a strand of her hair away from her face, she looked up at him. Gone was the anger in his eyes, replaced instead with a flame of fire that turned them into glowing chunks of charcoal. Without warning his lips took hers; hot and wet, they demanded a response. It was a demand she couldn’t help but give in to.
She responded feverishly, clinging to him as if he were the only stable point in an all-too-dangerous world. His lips were hungry, aggressive, but no more than her own as she pressed against him, wanting to meld herself into the warmth and safety of his arms.
His lips devoured hers, his tongue invading and probing, and she welcomed him body and soul, allowing the flare of passion to take the place of her fear of death. She wanted the oblivion of his desire, the comfort of his warm, living body covering hers.
His hands slowly moved down the sides of her sweatshirt to the bottom, then just as slowly caressed upward inside the shirt, against the heat of her skin. She moaned deep in her throat as his hands cupped the mounds of her bra-covered breasts. His hands were fire and the icy fear of death left her as she reveled in being alive.
She ran her hands down his back, feeling the sinewy muscles as she caressed downward, finally stopping to linger at his belt.
