Fortune's Heirs: Reunion. Marie Ferrarella
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her next words. “San Antonio isn’t exactly the sticks.”
Maybe not, he allowed, but it certainly wasn’t like New York City. “No, but New York has this energy, this verve—”
She found herself resenting his attitude. “Probably because everyone’s so tense, waiting for someone to make a move on them.”
Chauvinism made him take her words as a personal affront. If there was anything he hated, it was the way people insisted on running down New Yorkers. “You’re stereotyping—”
“Aren’t you?” she countered. “You make us sound like hicks.”
“‘Us’?” Hadn’t she told him that she’d just moved here from Denver?
“I was born and raised in Red Rock.”
He knew that. He also knew something else. “But you left.”
The reasons for that were complex and plentiful. She wasn’t about to go into it with a pompous know-it-all no matter who his father was.
“That’s a story for another day. Besides—” her tone underscored the word “—I’m back.” They were coming up to a busy intersection. She knew a shortcut that would circumvent what looked like a jam in the making. “Take a left here.” And then she changed her mind. Not about the direction they were going, but about the direction of the day. “No, wait.”
“Wait?” he echoed in disbelief. Did she think he could stop moving in the middle of all this? If he did, in two seconds they’d be surrounded with a cacophony of horns, all blasting at them.
“You can let me out on the corner.” She pointed toward it. “I can walk the rest of the way.”
He made no attempt to pull over. “Are you kicking me off this assignment?”
“No, I’m opening the door and letting you run away from this assignment, no disrespect intended,” she added when he raised one dark eyebrow at the word “run.”
Much as the idea tempted him, he had no intentions of backing out. He’d given his father his word and he was going to see this through. The woman was exhibiting about as much sense as an opossum in the middle of a busy five-lane road.
“Since we’re almost there, I might as well take a look at the location you’ve picked.”
Nope, she definitely didn’t like his attitude. The sooner she was rid of this man, the better she was going to feel. On several levels.
“You make it sound like I’m a kid with a whim. I did a lot of scouting around before I decided on this mall. I also took overhead into account,” she added. “The ideal location for my shop is at the San Antonio Mall, but the leases there are a little pricey. I thought I’d get a foothold here first, then work my way over in about a year or three.”
She had actually thought it out, he realized. “I’m impressed.”
Did he really think that mattered to her? “Oh, good. I can die happy.”
The sarcasm was thick enough to cut with a knife. And his patience was wearing thin. “Anyone ever tell you that you have a smart mouth?”
Was that his best comeback? The man might as well hang up his gloves now, she’d won the match. “Not lately. It goes with the rest of me.”
Making a right at the corner, Jack snorted. “Well, your ego’s alive and well.”
“No thanks to you.” The words had come out before she could stop herself.
He looked at her, surprised. “What do I have to do with it?”
“You’ve done nothing but talk down to me since the elevator encounter.”
“I asked you to press the thirtieth floor.” How could she possibly see that as talking down to her? Was she paranoid?
“No,” she pointed out, her voice steely, “you snapped out the number.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake—” He got hold of his temper. Even so, he snapped the next words out. “I was fighting jet lag.”
It had obviously not been much of a fight from what she’d seen. “Sounds like the jet lag won.” Turning her face forward again, her eyes widened as she saw a maroon Chevy coming from the right, running the light. She braced her feet hard against the floor. “Watch out!”
But it was already too late.
A half second after the warning was out of her mouth, the front of Jack’s silver Jaguar made contact with the side of the car that had flown out of nowhere. The Chevy, at least fifteen years old, dented and its paint peeling in half a dozen places, was the heavier of the two vehicles. The impact sent the silver Jaguar spinning in a full circle, winding up exactly at the original point of contact.
The next moment, a sound like rushing water filled the interior of the car. Jack’s vision was completely blocked by a wall of white fabric.
The air bags had deployed.
Along with what remained of his already frayed patience.
Chapter Six
There was white everywhere.
Panic clawed sharply at Gloria’s throat. She felt as if she had been plunged into the center of a marshmallow.
Claustrophobia, a failing she hadn’t managed to conquer that accompanied her into every elevator, every small space she found herself in since she’d been six years old, rose up on its hoary hind legs to grab her by the throat and threaten to block out the very air into her lungs.
The fact that the air bag had her pressed back against her seat with no room for movement and the seat belt was biting into her shoulder and lap, holding her fast, only added to the tidal wave of panic that was building up inside her.
She couldn’t help her next reaction. It came without thinking, without warning. Gloria started to scream. Not a small gasp or a yelp, but a full-bodied, blood-curdling scream that could have shattered water glasses within a one-mile radius.
Jolted, Jack’s senses alert and at their peak, the scream ripped right through him. Heart pounding, he could only imagine what could have prompted that sort of a reaction from the woman who was completely blocked from his sight. Memories of the car accident with Ann came bursting back into his brain.
Ann screaming.
Just before she died.
Terror seized his heart. Struggling, pushing against the deployed air bag, Jack managed to unbuckle his seat belt and get the harness off his shoulder. Adrenaline running high, convinced that Gloria had to be severely hurt, possibly even dying, he groped for the door handle on his side. Locating it seemed to take forever. Finally successful, Jack yanked on it and applied his shoulder to the door, shoving his way out.
“Hang on!” he yelled to Gloria as he rounded the trunk.
Operating on two very distinct planes, he saw the offending driver and glared at him. Jack could just barely make out the man’s face. The other car engine was still running and the driver looked ready to make a break for it. Now.
“Don’t even think it!” Jack barked. Making his way to the passenger side of the Jaguar, he glanced quickly at the other car’s license plate, committing it to memory. A photographic memory allowed him to absorb and retain everything he had ever seen. “I’ve got your plate number and I swear I’ll hunt you down.”
The man behind the wheel of the dented Chevy froze and raised his hands in surrender. He began to babble an apology. His words were just so much noise in the background. Jack barely heard him.
All of his attention was focused on Gloria.
If she could scream like that, at least she was alive, he thought, taking comfort in that. The very hair on the back of his neck was standing on end