Deadly Sins by Kylie Brant Page B

overhead. But the darkened scenery was the last thing on Adam’s mind. There was a series of hairpin curves coming up. He hoped his memory served him well.
    He decreased his speed enough to allow the other vehicle to come closer. And closer still. It slammed into the back of the Beemer, hard enough to jolt Adam’s teeth together. His lips stretched in a grim smile; he stomped on the accelerator. Timing it to the second, he whipped the wheel at the last moment, tires screeching to make the first of the trio of curves.
    The high-pitched screech of metal against an unforgiving century-old tree’s trunk filled the air. Lights no longer showed behind him. Slowing the vehicle, Adam stabbed at the button to lower the window. Strained to hear anything else.
    But the night was silent.
    He brought his car to a gradual halt, navigating the last of the curves from memory, his mind on the vehicle behind him. The Y-turn he executed was tricky on the narrow road. The back wheels left the pavement once, spun, before he was able to right the vehicle. He doused the lights before easing the vehicle back to the scene, one hand on the wheel while drawing his weapon with the other. If he hadn’t been cautious by nature, the five attempts on his life last year would have forged that trait.
    The seconds dragged as he rounded the middle curve. There was still no sound. He crept around the next. Saw the taillights ahead splitting the shadows from where the car still sat, its grill kissing the trunk of a huge cottonwood.
    Every muscle in Adam’s body tensed. Stopping thirty meters from the other vehicle, he lowered the window the rest of the way before easing the door open. Stepped out onto the pavement, weapon ready. Using the door between him and the other car like a shield.
    “Throw your weapon out the window,” he called. “Then get out of the car, hands behind your head.” He was guessing the driver was armed. There was little point to this exercise tonight if he weren’t.
    There was no answer. The vehicle remained still. Was the driver unconscious? Dead?
    Adam immediately rejected the latter possibility. But there was notable damage to the front of the car. Its airbag had almost certainly deployed, which could wreak its own injuries.
    He was still weighing his options when suddenly the other vehicle roared to life. It shuddered into reverse with a wrenching screech, righted itself, and leapt toward him. Muttering a curse, Adam hurried in an awkward stumble to the area behind his car, taking refuge in the trees hugging the road.
    There was a thunderous crash as the other vehicle pushed the Beemer off the county road. Adam dove out of the way to avoid having his car roll on top of him.
    The squeal of the departing vehicle’s acceleration rang in his ears like a schoolyard taunt.

    “Don’t bleed on my leather seats.”
    One of Paulie Samuels’s best qualities was that he didn’t fuss. “I’m not bleeding anymore.” But Adam kept his handkerchief pressed to the wound on his forehead, just in case. The scrapes on his hands were minor. And the head injury had settled to a sullen ooze that he’d already testily refused to have stitched.
    “I’m not even going to mention the card hand I threw in to come out here.”
    Adam laid his head against the rest and closed his eyes. “Thank God for small favors.”
    “Three ladies. Three .” It was too much to hope that Paulie would make good on his word. “Three thousand on the table, and the pot would probably have doubled before it was over.”
    “Are you telling me you want six thousand dollars for coming out here to pick me up?”
    Paulie’s response was swift. Vaguely insulted. “It’s not about the money.”
    Amazingly, Adam felt a smile tug his lips. “It’s about winning. I get it, believe me.”
    Nothing about the night left him feeling like a victor. Not when it was his car dangling from the tow truck whose taillights even now winked ahead of them. It still rankled to