Chapter 10

A couple minutes later, things were mostly settled. No one was pressing charges. No one was going to jail. And no one was telling me anything. When the police officers returned to their cruiser, the big guy turned and started stalking toward his own vehicle.

Neither Jake, nor Trey, moved. They weren't the only ones. Around us, the crowd was still waiting. For what, I had no idea.

Shivering in the cool morning air, I glanced toward Jake's car. "What are we waiting for?" I asked.

"Maybe nothing," Jake said. "But you never know."

Trey lifted his video recorder and aimed it toward the stranger. As we all watched, the guy reached out to tug on the driver's side door. Nothing happened. With a string of profanity, the guy tugged harder. The door still didn't budge. He pressed his face to the glass and peered inside.

"Fuck!" he yelled. He stalked around to the passenger's side door and gave it a tug. Again, nothing happened. Muttering to himself, he circled back to the driver's side. He glanced in our direction. When he saw us looking, he yelled out, "Get the fuck out of here!"

Next to me, Jake chuckled. "You couldn't make this shit up," he said.

I glanced toward the stranger. "What do you mean?"

Jake shook his head. "The dumb-shit locked his keys in the car."

The guy tried his door again, and then turned to glare in our direction. When he spotted Trey's video-recorder, he did a double-take. "That thing better not be on!" the guy hollered.

When Trey gave him a big thumbs-up, the guy made a guttural sound low in his throat. He stalked to the front of his vehicle and ripped off the hood ornament. He stalked back to the driver's side window, and with a primal scream, he hauled back his fist, ornament and all, and slammed it into the glass.

The glass shattered. His car alarm blared to life. And on the sidewalk, the crowd gave a rowdy cheer. The guy reached in through the shattered window and yanked out his keys. He hit a button on the remote, and the alarm grew silent. He hit the keyless again, wrenched open the door, and climbed inside.

From his newly claimed spot in the driver's seat, the guy leaned his head out the broken window and called out, "This ain't over!"

Jake chuckled. "I sure as hell hope not."

As we watched, the guy's car squealed into reverse. It did a sloppy U-turn, jumping the curb just before it rejoined traffic. Finally, it disappeared from sight. I turned to Jake. "So who was that guy?"

"You didn't recognize him?" Jake asked.

"Well, he sort of looked familiar., but…" I let my words trail off. My best guess sounded so unlikely, I didn't want to say it.

"You a sports fan?" Jake asked.

I shook my head. "Not really."

"That," Trey said, "is Dirk Leonard.

"Dirk?" I said. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," Trey said, "but wanna know what he likes to be called?"

"What?" I asked.

Trey grinned. "The Chainsaw."

Holy crap. It was him. "You're kidding," I said.

Next to me, Jake spoke. "Nope."

"Yeah, but the guy's a royal dick," Trey said. "Everyone hates him. Even the fans. It's kind of pathetic, actually. Shitty driver, too."

I glanced toward Jake's car. The spoiler was shattered, and the trunk, which had been all sleek lines earlier, was looking more like a crumpled soda can. I turned to Jake. "So what happened?" I asked. "I mean, was it just a random accident?"

"Not that random," Jake said. "Long story."

I turned to zoom in on the rear of the car, bothered by something I couldn't quite place. And then it hit me. "My suitcases."

"What about them?" Jake asked.

With a shaky finger, I reached out and pointed toward the damage. "They're in the trunk."

Trey reached up to stroke his chin. "Well that's not good," he said.

I looked down and covered my face with my hands. In the big scheme of things, it shouldn't have been a big deal. When I considered all the destruction – two vehicles and some guy's face – my two cheap suitcases barely registered on the scale of importance.

But for some reason, they suddenly seemed very important. Within the last couple hours, I'd lost my apartment, my roommate, and the job that was supposed to be my stepping-stone out of crapville. Instead, I was on a joyride to nowhere fast.

No. Not a joyride. Because there was nothing joyful about this journey. Why had I even gotten into Jake's car? Sadly, I knew the answer all too well. I had nowhere else to go.

Oh sure, I could slink back to my hometown and crash with one of my parents, but the thought of hearing "I told you so," was more than I could stomach. Everyone had expected me to fail, and I'd be damned if I'd live down to their expectations. Again.

But who was I kidding? I already had.

Desperately, I ran through my options. Maybe I could call my sister. She'd take me in. Probably. Sure, we hadn't talked in a few months. But she had been calling me, well, before I changed my phone number, anyway.

I blew out a long, unsteady breath. Damn it. But between both my jobs and the thing with Rango, I'd been avoiding almost everyone and everything. Just until things settled down, I told myself. But somehow, they never had.

"Is she okay?" Trey asked.

"Hey, I'm right here," I muttered into my hands. "I can hear you just fine, you know."

"Are you sure?" Trey said, "because you've been standing there like a zombie for like ten minutes."

Behind me, I heard Jake say, "Lay off her, will ya?" A moment later, I felt strong arms gather me into him. I caught my breath. I'd never been this close to him, but he felt exactly as I'd always imagined – lean and hard and utterly invincible. I turned and buried my face against his chest.

I tried to laugh. "This is all your fault," I said against his shirt.

He stroked my hair. "I know," he said.

I pulled away and gazed up at him with bleary eyes. "Really?"

"No," he said. "But I'll still make it up to you."

This time, I did laugh. I couldn't help it. Reluctantly, I pulled away to look at his car. I winced. "I'm sorry about your car. How bad is it?"

"Eh, it's drivable," he said.

"Yeah, but for how far?" I asked.

"Far enough," Jake said. "Now come on." He flicked his head toward the vehicle. "Let's get out of here."

I studied his shirt, ripped and splattered. "That's blood, isn't it?' Of course, the question was utterly stupid. What else could it be?

Jake tucked his chin to look down. "Well, it's not ketchup. That's for damn sure."

I swallowed. "Is that yours? Or his?" I closed my eyes. "Forget it. I'm not sure I want to know."

When I opened my eyes again, Jake was staring straight down at my breasts. And frowning.

My face grew warm. Okay, so I wasn't the best endowed girl on the planet, but I didn't have anything to be ashamed of. And besides, talk about rude.

"Hey!" I said, pointing to my face. "I'm up here. Okay?"

From off to the side, Trey said, "Oh man, that's gross."

I whirled on him. "What?"

He pointed toward my breasts. "Your shirt."

I looked down. My white blouse was smeared with reddish brown splotches. I bit my lip. "Is that–?

"Yup," Trey said. "Chainsaw blood."

Well, this was just great. Once in my whole life I'm actually held by Jake Bishop, and he sullies me with another man's blood. Talk about a mood-killer.

No way I'd be wearing this shirt for any longer than I had to. I glanced toward the trunk of the car. "I'll need my suitcase," I said.

Trey snorted. "Out of there? Forget it. We'd need a freakin' crowbar."

"How would you know?" I said.

"Well, that's what it took last time," Trey said.

I whirled toward Jake. "There was a last time?"

"You could say that," Jake said.

"How many accidents do you get into, anyway?" I said.

Before Jake could answer, Trey gave a bark of laughter and said, "A lot."

I whirled on him. "I don't see how this is funny."

"Trey," Jake said. "Tone it down, will ya? She's freaked out. Can't you tell?"

I whirled back to Jake. "Of course I’m freaked out!" I said. "You got me kicked me out of my apartment. And fired. And—"

"Technically," he said, "you resigned."

"No," I said, "You resigned. On my behalf."

"That job sucked," he said. He lowered his voice. "Baby, you're better than that, and you know it."

I gulped. Baby?

Damn it. He was distracting me again. I reminded myself to focus. Okay, so maybe he was right. The job did kind of suck. But it's not like I'd wanted to quit.

"That's not the point," I told him. "You know how hard it was for me to get that job? I had to go through five interviews."

Jake nodded. "Impressive."

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Nope."

I whirled to Trey. "Is he?"

Trey turned to study Jake. "Nah. I don't think so."

From somewhere above, a female voice rang out, "Jake, over here!" I looked around, and heard it again. "Jake! Jake!"

Finally, I spotted her. It was the same girl as before. She was leaning out an upper-story window of that same apartment complex.

"I love you!" she called. And then, she lifted the hem of her shirt high above her head, revealing a pair of naked, ample breasts. She jiggled them out the open window.

Next to us, Trey was absolutely riveted. "Man, I love this job," he said.

Slowly, I returned my gaze to Jake.

To my infinite surprise, his gaze wasn't on the girl, or her goodies. It was still on me. "Get in the car," he said.

Bossy or not, that suddenly seemed like a terrific idea. I stomped toward the car and wrenched open the passenger side door. With obvious reluctance, Trey turned away from the girlie-show and reclaimed his spot in the back. Finally, after a casual wave at his half-naked fan, Jake climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut behind him.

I sank low in my seat, wanting to disappear, or at the very least, roar away at lightning speed. Apparently though, Jake had other ideas. Because he didn't start the car.