“Where are you?”
“At the old wharf in DC. An ambulance is on the way, but you should?—”
“I’m on my way.” The line went dead.
Rebel glanced back at the bridge.
Someone had plowed into them at a high rate of speed, hoping they’d fly off the bridge. If he hadn’t been an excellent swimmer, with strong spatial awareness, they wouldn’t have made it out alive.
Someone had wanted them dead.
As that realization took hold, his long-simmering fury boiled to the surface. He would unleash a hellish wrath when he found out who did this to them. And he would stop at nothing to hunt them down and exact his revenge.
It would be swift. It would be ruthless. And it would be his pleasure.
Finding that driver had just become his number-one priority.
Britain
Brit had never been soscared in her life. As she clung to Rebel, she knew how close they’d come to the end. Despite the adrenaline pumping through her, she knew they were safe… except from the madman who’d tried to kill them.
He pulled her close, kissed her frigid, wet hair. “I got you. We’re gonna be okay.”
She couldn’t stop shaking, the fear of frostbite taking hold. “I can’t feel my feet or my hands.”
“You will.” He clasped her hands to warm them.
The screams of sirens grew louder, piercing the quiet night.
“Thank you for saving us,” Rebel said to the people standing before them.
“We’re grateful we were here,” one of the guys said. “I was about to propose to my girlfriend?—”
“I own Hotel Dillinger,” he said to the couple and the other two men who’d pulled them out. “What are your names?”
They rattled them off.
“I’ll remember your faces,” he said. “Wedding’s on me.”
“Ohmygod,” said the woman. “You don’t have?—”
To the two men, he said, “A free week’s stay for both of you.”
“Thanks,” said one of the men. “That’s super generous.”
“You don’t owe us anything,” said the other man. “We’re relieved we were there.”
“Swing by the hotel, leave your contact information with Lana, my GM. I’ll get in touch with you in a week or two.”
A police cruiser stopped nearby, two officers made their way over.
After giving the cops their names, Rebel said, “We were driving across the bridge.” He pointed.
“The Francis Case bridge,” said one of the cops.
“Someone slammed into us,” Rebel continued. “I skidded, tried correcting. They hit us again, broadside on the driver’s side. I braked, but we went flying over the guard rail.”
“You’re lucky to be alive,” said the officer.
