children-at-play signs. He hadn't meant to pick a residential area.
He did not want a residential area. Damn, damn, damn.
Another sharp turn appeared. Beside him, his
dainty captive moaned with sheer, unadulterated terror. And all he could do was
tighten his grip on the wheel.
The truck squealed. He no longer noticed the
sound. His arms hurt with the strain of the past five minutes. He absently
noted the pain. Mostly, his mind, his keen logical mind, raced frantically for
a new plan, some way out. Tactics, tactics. He needed better tactics, for God's
sake.
"Look out!" Maggie screamed.
He returned his attention to the road in time
to see two women appear, dressed in silk jogging suits and pushing baby
carriages down the narrow, shoulderless road. Their mouths opened in shock. He
could almost hear their screams.
He yanked on the wheel as he'd never yanked
before. He would not kill children! He would not kill children!
The truck slid helplessly across the pavement,
tires having lost traction, and now headed straight for the ditch.
"Grab the wheel!" he yelled at
Maggie.
"The police car!" she screamed,
releasing the wheel in horror.
He glanced at the rearview mirror at the last
minute, seeing the police car appear like a rocket, spot the two women, who'd
come to a frozen halt, and then swerve faster than a drunken hound dog.
"Maggie, help me!"
Belatedly she refastened her hands upon the
wheel. He clenched his teeth. The sweat rolled down his cheeks and he fought
with everything he had.
"Crank it the other way, crank it into the fishtail!"
Her teeth sank into her lower lip, and she did
her best to comply. He grunted and with a mighty groan finally wrenched the
wheel around. The truck swiveled in the other direction immediately, losing
momentum from the steep grade of the hillside and helping him regain control.
Behind them came a mighty crunch, and they glanced in the rearview mirror
simultaneously to see the police car plunge into the shallow ditch, right-side
wheels still spinning, lights whirling with a dull whimper.
He got the truck in line and they shot ahead.
Maggie let go of the wheel as if she'd been
scorched. When she looked at him at last, her blue eyes were saucer-wide in her
face. "You crashed a police car!"
"I'm surely going to hell," he
agreed.
With the immediate threat gone, his foot
relented on the gas. But his mind refused to stop. The truck was blown.
Everyone knew about the truck. The police car had most certainly called for
backup. How long did he have? One minute? Two minutes? Thirty seconds?
Cain, what are you going to do now?
He reached the top of the hill, the ground
suddenly opening up to reveal broad, gently undulating fields. He could see long
private drives winding to towering houses that boasted three stories of windows
with fantastic views of snowcapped Mount Hood. He saw smaller homes clutched
together like refugees, not as grand as the mansions but stealing the same
impressive view.
Houses, houses, everywhere, but not a single
side road.
"Where are we?" He glanced at her
fiercely.
"How the hell would I know?" his
terrified captive shot back. Then threw in mutinously, "You could've
killed everyone!"
"But I didn't."
"It wasn't for lack of trying!"
He took his gaze off the road long enough to
give her his most impressive frown. She glared right back at him, her face
flushed furiously, her eyes sparkling like blue daggers. So much for the meek
and humble act. This woman looked ready to chew him up and spit him back out as
a dollop of Silly Putty.
The color was good for her cheeks, the fire
good for her eyes. She was tougher than she looked, he respected that. But he
didn't have time for it given the circumstances.
"Find where we are," he ordered
curtly. "And get us the hell out of here before I'm forced to repeat that
pleasure ride."
"You—you—you reprobate!"
"Get the map, Maggie."
She snatched it up with such force it crackled
in the silence, then snapped it open for the
He did not want a residential area. Damn, damn, damn.
Another sharp turn appeared. Beside him, his
dainty captive moaned with sheer, unadulterated terror. And all he could do was
tighten his grip on the wheel.
The truck squealed. He no longer noticed the
sound. His arms hurt with the strain of the past five minutes. He absently
noted the pain. Mostly, his mind, his keen logical mind, raced frantically for
a new plan, some way out. Tactics, tactics. He needed better tactics, for God's
sake.
"Look out!" Maggie screamed.
He returned his attention to the road in time
to see two women appear, dressed in silk jogging suits and pushing baby
carriages down the narrow, shoulderless road. Their mouths opened in shock. He
could almost hear their screams.
He yanked on the wheel as he'd never yanked
before. He would not kill children! He would not kill children!
The truck slid helplessly across the pavement,
tires having lost traction, and now headed straight for the ditch.
"Grab the wheel!" he yelled at
Maggie.
"The police car!" she screamed,
releasing the wheel in horror.
He glanced at the rearview mirror at the last
minute, seeing the police car appear like a rocket, spot the two women, who'd
come to a frozen halt, and then swerve faster than a drunken hound dog.
"Maggie, help me!"
Belatedly she refastened her hands upon the
wheel. He clenched his teeth. The sweat rolled down his cheeks and he fought
with everything he had.
"Crank it the other way, crank it into the fishtail!"
Her teeth sank into her lower lip, and she did
her best to comply. He grunted and with a mighty groan finally wrenched the
wheel around. The truck swiveled in the other direction immediately, losing
momentum from the steep grade of the hillside and helping him regain control.
Behind them came a mighty crunch, and they glanced in the rearview mirror
simultaneously to see the police car plunge into the shallow ditch, right-side
wheels still spinning, lights whirling with a dull whimper.
He got the truck in line and they shot ahead.
Maggie let go of the wheel as if she'd been
scorched. When she looked at him at last, her blue eyes were saucer-wide in her
face. "You crashed a police car!"
"I'm surely going to hell," he
agreed.
With the immediate threat gone, his foot
relented on the gas. But his mind refused to stop. The truck was blown.
Everyone knew about the truck. The police car had most certainly called for
backup. How long did he have? One minute? Two minutes? Thirty seconds?
Cain, what are you going to do now?
He reached the top of the hill, the ground
suddenly opening up to reveal broad, gently undulating fields. He could see long
private drives winding to towering houses that boasted three stories of windows
with fantastic views of snowcapped Mount Hood. He saw smaller homes clutched
together like refugees, not as grand as the mansions but stealing the same
impressive view.
Houses, houses, everywhere, but not a single
side road.
"Where are we?" He glanced at her
fiercely.
"How the hell would I know?" his
terrified captive shot back. Then threw in mutinously, "You could've
killed everyone!"
"But I didn't."
"It wasn't for lack of trying!"
He took his gaze off the road long enough to
give her his most impressive frown. She glared right back at him, her face
flushed furiously, her eyes sparkling like blue daggers. So much for the meek
and humble act. This woman looked ready to chew him up and spit him back out as
a dollop of Silly Putty.
The color was good for her cheeks, the fire
good for her eyes. She was tougher than she looked, he respected that. But he
didn't have time for it given the circumstances.
"Find where we are," he ordered
curtly. "And get us the hell out of here before I'm forced to repeat that
pleasure ride."
"You—you—you reprobate!"
"Get the map, Maggie."
She snatched it up with such force it crackled
in the silence, then snapped it open for the
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