“It is what I need, M,” Rose said softly. But would a fast drive provide even a modicum of relief? Or would a race to nowhere prove as aimless as it ultimately was?
She sorely hoped not, as it was her only escape left.
The Stutz Bearcat zipped across the wide stretch of beach. The pale silvery light reflected off the white sands, and Rose felt like she was driving on a moonbeam. Her headlamps provided more illumination as she sallied forth through the blankness. With the wind stirred up by her charging sports car, she couldn’t hear the ocean. If she looked to the left, she could see the faint sparkle of the waves. If she glanced to the right, she might catch the faintest outline of towering cabbage palms.
But Rose maintained her focus on the white-gray-and-black nothingness unraveling before her. This stretch of beach was private, and she risked no one but herself in this mad midnight dash. She attempted a half-hearted battle cry. Hoping a second would turn into a real one, she forced more sound from her lungs. Although she did not experience the halcyon rush of her old racing days, some of the cobwebs growing inside her soul seemed to sway, as if preparing to blow away. Rose had always felt the most alive when hurtling at breakneck speeds.
Finally her heart began to pound, not from rootless fear but from excitement. In the blankness, Rose found a modicum of solace—not peace but a temporary balm. Trying out a third manufactured whoop, she spun the wheel and made a broad turn, heading back in the direction she’d come.
The muscles in Rose’s back had just begun to loosen when the headlamps revealed a stack of beach chairs. Her tendons immediately retightened. It made no sense for the furniture to be in the center ofthe sand. She’d whizzed through this stretch of shoreline only minutes before. Swerving to avoid the collision, she stomped on the brake pedal.
But nothing happened.
Desperately, Rose yanked back on the hand brake lever.
Still nothing.
Neither the skill of the Bearcat’s designers nor her own agility as a driver was a match for the physics of loose sand. The tires on the right side of the Stutz dug in, and the left lifted into the air. Rose’s body shot skyward.
Fear lacerated Rose, but the raw panic slid into an instinct to survive, just like on the Front. She tucked her body, protecting her head from impact. Although she attempted to roll when she hit the sand, her back slammed into the ground with such a terrific force the displaced grit landed on her stomach. The air was expelled from her body in a painful whoosh.
This wasn’t the first time she’d been launched from an auto, but nothing could prepare a person for having the wind so efficiently knocked from them. The helplessness was worse than the pain. She was truly trapped now—both internally and externally. And she was damned tired of being immobilized.
“Bloody hell!”
Rose wanted to turn her head at the words spoken with a British accent, but she couldn’t manage it. She didn’t want anyone to see her sprawled on the ground, especially one of her guests. Frantically, she tried to force air into her body even as her lungs protested. The low-key tension that had seemed to simmer inside her since the war burst into full-scale panic.
“I hope we didn’t kill her before we find out what she knows,” the voice added.
Kill her?Intense, concentrated horror bored through Rose, but she remained powerless to react.
“We don’t even know how much Barbury had figured out, let alone if he blabbed anything.” This new speaker sounded almost American, but the words were tinged with an accent ... aGermanaccent.
Sharp shards of alarm shredded Rose at the mention of the viscount.
Spies. These men werespies.
The British noble hadn’t been lying about uncovering espionage. Somehow, these German agents had trackedherdown—the last person to see Barbury alive. If they had exerted this much trouble to tie up a single potential loose end, she had no illusions about their plans for her. She was a thread to be snipped and discarded.
Rose tried to draw in air, but her lungs remained painfully shut. Without them functioning, she could donothingto protect herself. She couldn’t even lift her head.
Desperation set in.
“I told you that wrecking her auto was a dangerous scheme. Suppose they’ve heard the crash back at the house? We should have erected the barricade farther away.”
Oxygen. Sheneededit now. Panic clawed her, and her brain began to buzz. But her diaphragm remained stubbornly and agonizingly frozen.
“I’ve been watching her for weeks. I know how these people think.”
“If she knows too much, it could ruin everything. Every day that treaty discussions continue in Versailles is a day closer to the end of hope.”
The viscount’s words blazed into her mind.
Talk. Only. To. Him. Spies. Everywhere. Active everywhere.
The spy ring was still in operation! The knowledge ripped through Rose.
She forced air into her abused lungs. It burned and ached like hell, but she’d faced worse. When she had enough breath, she screamed—sharp, loud, and chilling.
