Her Rocky Mountain Defender. Jennifer D. Bokal
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left,” Roman said.
“The police,” she breathed. Thank God. Soon this nightmare would be over. She thought of Jackson, the man who’d captured her and insisted he was a cop, but that couldn’t have been true.
She accelerated, the world outside her window becoming a blur.
“Wow,” Roman said. “The gerbil in your engine can run fast.”
“I’ll have you know that this car has a TwinPower turbo engine,” she said. She wasn’t really in a joking mood, but the teasing helped to release some of the tension she held in her shoulders.
“Me, I’m an American muscle car kind of guy. Give me a Ford Mustang or a Chevy Camaro any day. So, I don’t even know what a TwinPower turbo engine means.”
“It means that I feed the gerbil in my engine really well,” she said.
He laughed and winced, gripping his side. “This is your turn,” he said.
Madelyn eased around the corner and a tall building of glass and brick came into view. It sat behind a wide lawn. A sign, illuminated by a spotlight on the ground, read Boulder Police Department. Madelyn felt warm and exhausted, as if she’d been wrapped up in a blanket, fresh out of the dryer, on a snowy winter’s night. She slowed as she neared the curb. The double doors of the police station opened and two men stepped out. Madelyn’s heart ceased to beat. A pair of blue jeans and sweatshirt had been traded for a police uniform, but the face was the same.
“Jackson’s here,” she said. “I’d hoped he was lying about being a cop.”
Heads ducked in the rain, the men strode down the walkway.
“Just drive away,” said Roman. “We’ll think of something else. Maybe we can keep watch and come back after he’s gone.”
Madelyn stomped on the accelerator and her car shot down the street. She headed up the block. The back of the car filled with light as another car approached fast from the rear.
Roman said, “Looks like we have company.”
She stepped on the accelerator, urging her small car to go faster. The other auto, a bigger sedan, gained more ground.
Turning in his seat, Roman said, “It’s Anton.”
Before she could ask how he knew, they were hit from behind. Madelyn’s car lurched forward, skidding sideways on the wet pavement.
* * *
Roman watched Madelyn as she drove. Shoulders hunched forward, she gripped the steering wheel and stared wide-eyed at the road. The speedometer climbed. If only Jackson hadn’t been at the police station, this whole episode would be over. But, now they were on the run again.
“We have to lose Anton,” said Roman.
“Not a helpful suggestion,” said Madelyn, “especially since I don’t know this neighborhood.”
He did. “There’s an alleyway half a block up and on the left. Turn at the last minute and hopefully Anton will pass us by.”
She nodded, her jaw tight.
Roman counted. “One. Two. Turn.”
Madelyn whipped the steering wheel. The car hit the curb, sending them airborne. They landed and she aimed for the small alley. As he hoped, the other car didn’t make the turn. “Turn right at the end of this alley and then take the next left.” He gave her another half a dozen directions that led them down side streets and into another alley.
“Pull up behind this Dumpster and kill the lights.”
Without comment, Madelyn followed Roman’s instructions and they sat silently in the darkened car. Rain pelted the windows and filled the tiny space with constant noise. Madelyn’s breath came in short and ragged gasps. Even in the dim light, Roman could see her pulse thrumming at the base of her throat. Up until now, she’d been brave and levelheaded. But everyone had a limit for what they could endure. Had Madelyn reached hers?
“Look at me,” he said.
Her head snapped to him, her eyes were wide.
“I need you to breathe.”
“Breathe? I’m freaking out, here. There’s no place for me to go. Nobody I can trust.”
Roman knew that she hadn’t meant to injure him with her words, but the fact that he hadn’t earned her trust made his cheeks sting.
Yet, why did he care? What was it with his reaction to this woman?
“You can trust me,” Roman said.
“Can I? I don’t even know you.”
Roman didn’t dignify her comment with one of his own. Instead, he said the only thing that might help her gain control. “You’re a doctor, right? Every day you face all sorts of distressing scenarios, but I bet you don’t freak out—” he made air quotes “—with your patients.”
“Of course not,” she said. “I’m trained to handle a variety of medical emergencies.”
“Well, I’m trained to handle this kind of emergency. So, whether you think that you can trust me or not, you can.”
Madelyn exhaled fully. “Okay. What do we do next?”
“Anton’s not going to give up. There’s too much at stake,” he said.
“Then we are going to die,” Madelyn said. The resolve of her statement was a blade to the heart, the first tiny cut of a thousand.
Roman brought up a map of Boulder in his mind. “We’ll only get one shot to shake Anton off our tail, but first, we have to find him and get him to chase us.”
Madelyn took in a shaking breath. “I think I like staying hidden better.”
He wanted to say something to give her courage or at least comfort, like a pep talk, but after months of living a lie, he’d forgotten how to be inspiring. “Can I drive?” he asked instead.
She hesitated. “I guess.”
Roman glanced out the side window. The building next to them was so near that he couldn’t open the passenger door.
Her gaze followed his. Roman turned to look at Madelyn. She gave a little shrug. “Sorry,” she said. “I can move the car.”
“Don’t bother,” said Roman. “We’ll just trade places.”
She moved to hover above him, his hands on her waist. Sure, they were being chased by a murderous gangster but the fact that her nice butt was right above his lap didn’t escape Roman. And it wasn’t simply her body that he appreciated, either. As far as working with a civilian—Madelyn Thompkins wasn’t half bad.
He moved across the cramped console and into the ridiculously small seat. Every muscle in his abdomen ached. He found the lever that controlled distance from the steering wheel and eased back, the pain in his middle lessening. With the headlights still off, Roman maneuvered out of the alley. He pulled onto a deserted street. Ahead, he saw the black sedan driving slowly in the opposite direction.
“Buckle your seat belt.” Roman dropped his foot on the gas. The little car shot forward with more force than he would have imagined. TwinPower turbo, indeed. He closed in on Anton. Bumper swiping bumper, he rocketed past in a deadly game of tag.
Anton followed, as Roman knew he would. Left. Right. Left and left again. Left again and another right. He headed south, toward the interstate entrance ramp nearest the warehouses on the outskirts of town.
Anton stayed close behind. Ahead, a light changed from green to yellow. It was exactly what Roman needed. He stepped on the gas, rocketing through the intersection as the light turned red. Anton followed. The blare of car horns trailing him like a ship’s wake.
Roman’s foot lifted from the gas as the interstate drew near.
Madelyn