to his driving. Anaconda intimidated her but close up, these clowns did not.
âYouâre not going to do this,â Felicity said.
âAnd why not, girl?â Rico asked. His hand slid painfully across her exposed breast, down her thigh, to land beside her knee on the seat.
Felicity startled the back seat rider when she reached up to her hair, useless handcuffs dangling from her left wrist. She yanked the long silver pin from her hair, letting the comb fall out.
âThis is my stop, you bastard,â Felicity said, stabbing down into the back of Ricoâs hand and pinning it to the seat. He screamed and swerved, driving the Chevyâs left front fender into the driverâs door of an oncoming car. Before the car was completely stopped, Felicity jumped out, running at top speed across the street. She dodged oncoming vehicles like a matador, silhouetted by rushing headlights. Horns blared, brakes squealed and above it all, Rico shouted obscenities in Spanish.
Felicity ran down the block, trying each parked car as she went. The seventh car, an aging red Chevy Impala, was unlocked. She ducked inside and reached under the dashboard. Twenty seconds later, the engine roared to life. Felicity glanced at the corner street sign, noting where she got the car from, and then pulled into traffic.
The sedan, an automatic with the stick shift on the floor,was nothing like her usual choice of rides but right then it felt like luxury and the snarl of the V8 engine gave her comfort. She knew no one was following her, but Felicity drove an evasive course anyway, making last-second turns and timing her approaches to corners to slide under orange lights just before they turned red. Watching for street signs she soon figured out she was in the Pomona area. In short order she was able to find Interstate 10. From there getting home would be easy, just point west until she hit the coast. Just the thought of being in her own apartment made her feel better.
She rolled her window down to clear her head. Cool night air raised gooseflesh on her left arm, but she stubbornly left the window open, fighting to bring her breathing rate down to normal.
Thirty minutes later, Felicity coasted to a stop in front of her building. Her perfect time sense told her it was ten minutes past one. Tim, tonightâs security man, would be sitting at a console inside, watching closed circuit video screens. She knew she would be visible on one of them, but of course Tim wouldnât recognize the car. She blew the horn six times before he went to the door and looked outside. While he stared at the strange vehicle, she pushed her head out the window.
âTim!â Felicity called. âItâs me. Felicity. Bring me your jacket, would you?â
âMiss OâBrien?â Tim, a tall ex-Marine, had a brush cut and a face too small for his head. He stared blankly at her. He had to recognize her voice, but she suddenly remembered he probably could not recognize her face.
âYes, itâs really me, Tim, Iâm just kind of in disguise. Now be a dear and please lend me your jacket. Myâ¦my dress is torn.
Now he looked sure. Tim stepped out, locking the door behind him, and walked to the car, unbuttoning his uniformjacket. When he handed it to her through the window she pulled it on quickly but there was no way to avoid offering him a flashing glimpse of her exposed breast. He sucked air in between his teeth as if he had just cut himself. Their eyes met.
âSorry,â Tim said, embarrassed. âI didnât mean to⦠you got hurt.â
Felicity leaped from the car and hustled into the building without another word. Tim followed her as far as the elevator. As the doors closed in front of her, she said, âIâll call you in a couple of minutes.â
Upstairs, Felicity made sure her only neighbor was not in the hall, then sprinted past the bird of paradise plants in the center garden and punched the buttons to
âYouâre not going to do this,â Felicity said.
âAnd why not, girl?â Rico asked. His hand slid painfully across her exposed breast, down her thigh, to land beside her knee on the seat.
Felicity startled the back seat rider when she reached up to her hair, useless handcuffs dangling from her left wrist. She yanked the long silver pin from her hair, letting the comb fall out.
âThis is my stop, you bastard,â Felicity said, stabbing down into the back of Ricoâs hand and pinning it to the seat. He screamed and swerved, driving the Chevyâs left front fender into the driverâs door of an oncoming car. Before the car was completely stopped, Felicity jumped out, running at top speed across the street. She dodged oncoming vehicles like a matador, silhouetted by rushing headlights. Horns blared, brakes squealed and above it all, Rico shouted obscenities in Spanish.
Felicity ran down the block, trying each parked car as she went. The seventh car, an aging red Chevy Impala, was unlocked. She ducked inside and reached under the dashboard. Twenty seconds later, the engine roared to life. Felicity glanced at the corner street sign, noting where she got the car from, and then pulled into traffic.
The sedan, an automatic with the stick shift on the floor,was nothing like her usual choice of rides but right then it felt like luxury and the snarl of the V8 engine gave her comfort. She knew no one was following her, but Felicity drove an evasive course anyway, making last-second turns and timing her approaches to corners to slide under orange lights just before they turned red. Watching for street signs she soon figured out she was in the Pomona area. In short order she was able to find Interstate 10. From there getting home would be easy, just point west until she hit the coast. Just the thought of being in her own apartment made her feel better.
She rolled her window down to clear her head. Cool night air raised gooseflesh on her left arm, but she stubbornly left the window open, fighting to bring her breathing rate down to normal.
Thirty minutes later, Felicity coasted to a stop in front of her building. Her perfect time sense told her it was ten minutes past one. Tim, tonightâs security man, would be sitting at a console inside, watching closed circuit video screens. She knew she would be visible on one of them, but of course Tim wouldnât recognize the car. She blew the horn six times before he went to the door and looked outside. While he stared at the strange vehicle, she pushed her head out the window.
âTim!â Felicity called. âItâs me. Felicity. Bring me your jacket, would you?â
âMiss OâBrien?â Tim, a tall ex-Marine, had a brush cut and a face too small for his head. He stared blankly at her. He had to recognize her voice, but she suddenly remembered he probably could not recognize her face.
âYes, itâs really me, Tim, Iâm just kind of in disguise. Now be a dear and please lend me your jacket. Myâ¦my dress is torn.
Now he looked sure. Tim stepped out, locking the door behind him, and walked to the car, unbuttoning his uniformjacket. When he handed it to her through the window she pulled it on quickly but there was no way to avoid offering him a flashing glimpse of her exposed breast. He sucked air in between his teeth as if he had just cut himself. Their eyes met.
âSorry,â Tim said, embarrassed. âI didnât mean to⦠you got hurt.â
Felicity leaped from the car and hustled into the building without another word. Tim followed her as far as the elevator. As the doors closed in front of her, she said, âIâll call you in a couple of minutes.â
Upstairs, Felicity made sure her only neighbor was not in the hall, then sprinted past the bird of paradise plants in the center garden and punched the buttons to
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