Chapter 44

Emily’s entire day had been a carnival ride of one unlikely event after another. And now here she was involved in a car chase. A car chase, for crying out loud!

To make matters worse? She seemed to be the only person in the truck shitting bricks. Down to a man, her companions were as cool as proverbial cucumbers. Christian was the worst of them. There wasn’t a tremor in his voice or a hitch in his delivery when he said, “We need to get off the motorway and ditch this bloody pickup truck.”

“Ditch the truck?” She blinked at him as Rusty swerved around another car and sent her slamming into Christian’s side.

To her dismay, he threw an arm around her shoulders to steady her. “It’s the only way to lose our tail,” he said.

“And once we ditch the truck? Then what?”

Rusty slammed on the brakes, leaving rubber on blacktop when a car pulled into his lane. She was lucky she was buckled in, or she would have gone sailing between the front seats and straight through the windshield.

Once she’d recovered, she demanded again, “What happens after we ditch the truck?”

“Not sure.” Christian shrugged, looking completely blasé. “First things first.”

“Right.” She nodded. “Wonderful. Sounds like a plan. Not!”

“There!” Ace pointed through the windshield. “Take that exit.”

Rusty crossed three lanes of traffic at a blistering pace. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw the black SUV dart past them, unable to pursue without causing a twenty-car pileup.

Blowing out an unsteady breath, Emily realized she had dug her fingernails into Christian’s thigh when he covered her hand with his and winced. “Little less pressure, darling. I think I might be bleeding.”

“Oh!” She unstuck her nails from the denim of his jeans and gripped the seat in front of her instead. “Sorry. I—”

Her thoughts snapped off like bones brittle with age when Ace pointed to a road that led back into Folkestone. “Take that. And everyone keep their eyes peeled for a car we might steal.”

“Appropriate,” Angel corrected. “To steal something indicates we might think to keep it. We will merely be borrowing a car for a short while and—”

“There!” Ace cut him off. “That one.”

Emily blinked through the windshield. They had turned onto a neighborhood street. Houses packed side-by-side sported postage-stamp-sized lawns, rosebushes, and the occasional tipped-over tricycle. “You mean the gray one? The Ford Focus? Why?”

“The Ford Focus is one of the most popular cars in the UK,” Angel said, as if that bit of trivia was supposed to mean something.

“Given we’re not certain what’s going on, it’s best if we blend into the crowd,” Christian explained. Bless him. “Also, the vehicle comes standard with a Thatcham 2 security system, which means no alarm, just an immobilizer.”

“An immobilizer?”

“Something that keeps common thieves from being able to hot-wire the vehicle.”

“Good thing I am not a common thief,” Angel said, not a shred of braggadocio in his tone, just a statement of fact.

The most popular car in the UK, Thatcham whatwhozits, and immobilizers… Emily had always fancied herself a pretty knowledgeable gal, but obviously she was just a babe in the woods when it came to this stuff.

“Let me out at the curb there.” Angel pointed. “Then drive around the block and wait. I will meet you there once I have the vehicle.”

“Shouldn’t we wait with you?” Emily asked, peering around, trying to see if anyone was in their front garden on this chilly March night. Thankfully, the block was quiet. The only movements came from the wind in the trees and a lone moth that seemed particularly intrigued by their right headlight.

“No.” Angel said. “This pickup truck is too conspicuous. We do not want someone to look out their window and become curious.”

“Right.” She nodded. Curiosity was bad. Everyone knew what it had done to the cat.

Rusty pulled in front of the car they planned to steal…er…appropriate, and Angel hopped out. No sooner had the door slammed shut than Rusty was back on the gas and they were leaving Angel to quietly mosey toward the unsuspecting vehicle. With him gone, the heat radiating off Christian seemed amplified. So did the smell of him, that expensive earthy-sweet aroma of his cologne.

“How long will it take him to break in and hot-wire the thing, do you suppose?” Emily asked, her heart reaching speeds of a mile a minute.

“Not long.” Christian hooked a thumb over his shoulder.

She turned to see that, inexplicably, Angel had already jimmied open the door on the little Ford and was sliding into the driver’s seat. As promised, no alarm accompanied his intrusion.

“Wow. I don’t know whether to be terrified or impressed.”

Rusty hooked a right, taking them around the block. When they reached a Y in the road, Rusty stopped the truck.

“And now we wait?” Emily craned her head around, gnawing on her lip and picking at a loose thread on the upholstery of the backseat. She rubbed the back of her neck and scooped her hair off her nape. It was hot. She was sweating. Unzipping her jacket helped. But only a little. She fanned her face.

“Yes. We wait,” Christian said. “And stop fidgeting. You’re making me nervous.”

“You?” She sent him an incredulous look. “What about me? This is my first car chase. My first time running for my life. My first time stealing a vehicle.”

“Appropriating,” Ace corrected.

“If I hear that word one more time, I’m going to kill one of you.”

“With what?” Christian asked, the twitch of his lips doing little to hide his amusement. She was glad one of them was having a good time. “We left all our weapons at Rusty’s when we thought we were hopping an international flight.”

“I’m creative. I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”

“Speaking of the weapons,” Ace interjected, “do we dare go back and retrieve them?”

“Not tonight,” Christian said. “Maybe not ever. If whoever these people are recognized Rusty’s truck, chances are good they bloody well know where he lives. They probably have eyes on his house as we speak.”

“So if we can’t go back to Rusty’s and we can’t get to France, where will we go?” Emily asked, swinging around to face Christian.

“We could try our hand at a hotel,” Ace suggested. “Check in using our fake passports.”

“I shouldn’t think so,” Christian mused, rubbing his chin. “Still too public.”

“So then, what?” Ace asked.

“We go to my uncle’s.”

Emily’s chin jerked back. “Your uncle’s? I didn’t think you had family left over here.”

“Why would you assume that?”

“Well, because…because…” She trailed off. The look on his face was like a line of police tape. It shouted DO NOT CROSS!

“He has a summer cottage on the coast in Port Isaac,” Christian continued. “He won’t knock off from London ’til June. So the cottage should be empty. We can hole up there until we get this cock-up sorted one way or the other.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Ace declared. “Okay, kiddies, hop out and grab your things. Angel is headed our way.”

Emily glanced out the back window. Sure enough, the Ford Focus rounded the corner.

Christian pushed open the door, and the smell of salt-tinged air and threatening rain swooped into the truck. She followed him into the night and took her backpack when he handed it to her.

They had kept their gear in the bed of Rusty’s pickup truck, and she had a fleeting worry that all their stuff wouldn’t fit into the little four-door hatchback. And then a thought occurred…

“Rusty.” She placed her hand on his forearm. “I’m so sorry I got you into this.”

Rusty’s ridiculously handsome face became even more ridiculously handsome when he smiled. “Don’t worry.” He covered her hand. “I haven’t had this much excitement in years.”

“But your truck. Your house.” She shook her head. “You have to leave both behind until—”

“Just stuff, dollface. Just stuff.” He used his key fob to lock his truck and turned toward the hatchback when it pulled up beside them.

“Shotgun!” Ace called, pulling open the passenger door. “Sorry.” He turned to shoot Rusty an apologetic look. “But if I have to ride in the backseat with those two”—he motioned back and forth between Emily and Christian—“I might just kill one of them. Or both of them.”

“And what makes you think I won’t?” Rusty asked.

“Uh, because you’re a nice guy?”

“I am that,” Rusty said. Then added, “But you’ll owe me.”

“I look forward to the repayment.”

Even given the direness of their situation, Emily was delighted to see the blush that spread over Ace’s cheekbones. She didn’t miss how quickly he ducked into the car.

Glancing at Rusty, she found him wearing a contemplative look. “In case it’s not apparent, he’s a nice guy too. You could do worse,” she told him.

Rusty’s eyes swung over to her. “Not that I don’t love your nosiness, dollface, but maybe you should straighten out your own love life before you start meddling in mine.”

“I don’t have a love life,” she assured him.

“No?” He glanced over her head.

When she turned to see what had snagged his attention, she saw Christian standing beside the vehicle looking like a Gucci ad on steroids. He was holding the door and his expression said, Get your ass in the car, woman!

For some reason, that bossiness caused a little trill to swirl low in her belly. She turned back to Rusty. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she told him before flouncing into the backseat and settling her backpack between her feet.

Rusty and Christian followed her in, creating an Emily sandwich. And even though Rusty was drop-dead gorgeous, it was Christian’s nearness that overwhelmed her.

“We need to call Chels and Zoelner,” Ace said from the front seat. “Let them know what’s going on.”

“I’ll do it,” Emily volunteered.

Anything to take my mind off Christian…