Fifty Shades Freed

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Fifty Shades Freed Page 4

by E. L. James


  that he's lost in me ... I groan loudly, panting. It's so erotic —his need for me. I

  am reaching . . . reaching ... and he's driving me higher, overwhelming me, tak-

  ing me, and 1 want this. I want this so much ... for him and for me.

  "Come with me," he gasps, and he rears up over me so I have to break my

  "Open your eyes," he orders. "I need to see you." His voice is urgent, implac-

  able. My eyes flicker open momentarily, and the sight of him above me — his face

  taut with ardor, his eyes raw and glow ing. I lis passion and his love is my undoing,

  and on cue I come, throw ing my head back as my body pulses around him.

  "Oh, Ana," he cries and he joins my clima.v dri ing into inc. then stilling and

  collapsing onto inc. Me rolls ocr so that I'm sprawled rat top of him, and lie's

  still inside me. As I ri n t gasm and t i I tcadies and calms, I

  want lo i 1 1 1 j some quip .an a being objectified tnd 0| messed, but hold my

  tongue, uncertain of hi moi I i n i on Christiai best to examine his

  face. His eyes are closed and his arms are wrapped around me, clinging tight. I

  kiss his chest through the thin fabric of his linen shirt.

  "Tell me, Christian, what's wrong?" I ask softly and wait anxiously to see if

  even now, sated by sex, he'll tell me. 1 feel hi-, arms lighten around me further,

  but it's his only response. He's not going to talk. Inspiration hits me.

  "1 give yon my solemn vow to be your faiihfnl partner in sickness and in

  health, to stand by your side in good times and in bad, to share your joy as well as

  He freezes. His onls mosement is to open o ide his fathomless eyes and gaze

  at me as I continue my wedding vows.

  "I promise to love you unconditionally, to support you in your goals and

  dreams, to honor and respect sou. to laugh \ ith sou and crs s ilh you, to share my

  hopes and dreams with you, and bring you solace in times of need." I pause, will-

  ing him to talk to me. He watches me, his lips parted, but says nothing.

  "And to cherish both shall I 1 I

  "Oh, Ana," he whispers and moves again, breaking our precious contact so

  that we're lying side by side. I le strokes ms i'aee s ith the back of his knuckles.

  union and you," he whispers, his voice hoarse. "I promise to love you faithfully,

  regardless of where life lakes us. 1 will protect you, trust you, and respect you. I

  that is mine is now yours. I gise s ou my hand, ins heart, and my love from this

  Tears spring to my eyes. His face softens as he gazes at me.

  "Don't cry," he murmurs, his thumb catching and dispatching a dray tear.

  "Why won't you talk to me? Please, Christian."

  He closes his eyes as if in pain.

  "I vowed I would bring you solace in times of need. Please don't make me

  He sighs and opens his eyes, his expression bleak. "It's arson," he says

  mpK. and I 1 i 1 ung at I i I I

  Ohfuck.

  "And my biggest worn is thai lite) are a iter me. And , I' they are after me — "

  He stops, unable to continue.

  ". . . They might get me." ! whisper, lie blanches, and I know that I have fi-

  nally uncovered the root of his anxiety. 1 caress his face.

  "Thank you," 1 murmur.

  He frowns. "What for?"

  "For telling me."

  I le shakes his head and a ghost of a smile touches his lips. "You can be very

  persuasive, Mrs. Grey."

  "And you can brood and internalize all your feelings and worry yourself to

  death. You'll probably die of a heart attack before you're forty, and I want you

  around far longer than that."

  "Mrs. Grey, you'll be the death of me. The sight of you on the Jet Ski— I

  nearly had a coronary." He flops back on the bed and puts his hand over Iris eyes,

  and I feel him shudder.

  you'll be like when we visit your place in Aspen and I go skiing for the first

  He gasps and turns to face me. and I want to laugh at the horror on his face.

  I ignore him. "I'm a grown-up. Christian, and much toughei than I look.

  He shrugs and loulh ll ' e to el I k i

  "So, the fire. Do the police know about the arson?"

  "Good."

  "SecuriU is going to get tighter." he sa>s maller-ol-l'acllv.

  "I understand." 1 glance down ills bod . He's still wearing his shorts and his

  shirt, and I still have my T-shirt on. Jeez — talk about wham. ham. thank you

  ma am. The thought makes me giggle.

  "What?" Christian asks, bemused.

  "You."

  "Me?"

  "Yes. You. Still dressed."

  "Oh." He glances down at himself, then back at me, and his face erupts into

  "Well, you know how hard it is for me to keep my hands off you, Mrs.

  Grey — espcciulh liei o re i g i i 10 ilgii

  Oh yes — the tie I! mh! The iicklin 1 nunc quid oil) I i strad-

  dling him, but immediately understanding my evil intent, he grabs both of my

  "No," he says and he means it.

  I pout at him but decide that he's not ready for this.

  "'Please don't." he whispers. "I couldn't bear it. I was never tickled as a

  child." I le pauses and I relax my hands so he doesn't have to restrain me.

  "I used to watch Carrick with Elliot and Mia, tickling them, and it looked like

  such fun, but I . . . I . . ."

  1 place my index finger on his lips.

  "Hush, 1 know," I murmur and plant a soft kiss on his lips where my finger

  ii i h* n i i ii } 1 Ik rh mi 1 i ' i i chc swells inside

  me, and the profound sadness that I hold in my heart for Christian as a little boy

  seizes mc once more. ! know 1 would do anything for this man because I love him

  deeply as he gently strokes my back. I don't know how long we lie there, but

  eventually I break the comfortable silence between us.

  "What is the longest you've gone without seeing Dr. Flynn?"

  "Two weeks. Why? Do uhi hac an incorrigible urge to tickle mc?"

  Christian snorts. "He should; I pay him enough." He pulls my hair gently,

  turning my face to look up al him I lili my head and meet his gaze.

  "Are you concerned for my well-being. Mrs. ( nc '.'"' lie asks softly.

  "Every good wile is concerned for her bekucd husband's well-being, Mr.

  Grey," I admonish him teasingly.

  "Beloved?" he whispers, and it's a poignant question hanging between us.

  "Very much beloved." I scoot up to kiss him, and he smiles his shy smile.

  "Do you want to go ashore to eat, Mrs. Grey?"

  "I want to eat whcrecr you're happiest."

  "Good." He grins. -Aboard il is where i can keep >ou safe. Thank you for my

  present." He leaches rand I the i i. and I a' i il inn's length, he

  snaps the two of us in our posl tickling, postcoital, posl confessional embrace.

  "The pleasure is all mine," 1 smile and his eyes light up.

  We wander through the opulent, gill splendor of the eighteenth century Palace of

  Versailles. Once a humble hunting lodge, it was transformed by the Roi Soleil in-

  to a magnificent, lavish seat of power, but even before the eighteenth century

  ended il saw the 1 1 t 1 b lute monarchs.

  The most stunning room by far is the Hall of Mirrors. The carls afternoon

  light floods through w indows lo the west, lighting up the mirrors that line the east

  wall and illuminating the gold leaf decor and the enormous crystal chandeliers.

  It's breathtaking.


  "Interesting to see what becomes of a despotic megalomaniac who isolates

  himself in such splendor." 1 murmur to Christian as he stands at my side. He gazes

  down and cocks his head to one side, regarding me with humor.

  "Your point, Mrs. Grey?"

  Oh. merel> an rali Ii (itc " I wave my hand airily at the sur-

  roundings. Smirking, he follows me to the center of the room where I stand and

  gawk at the view— the spectacular gardens reflected in the looking glass and the

  spectacular Christian ii n h ban die led I k at n his gaze bright and

  "I would build this for you," he whispers. "Just to see the way the light burn-

  ishes your hair, right here, right now." lie tucks a strand of hair behind my car.

  "You look like an angel." He kisses me just below in; earlobe. lakes my hand in

  his, and murmurs. "W c despots do that for the women we loe."

  1 flush at his compliment, smiling shyly, and follow him through the vast

  "What are you thinking about'.'" Christian asks softly, taking a sip of his after-din-

  ner coffee.

  "Versailles."

  "Ostentatious, wasn't it?" He grins. I glance around the more understated

  grandeur of the L'tdi Lady 's dining room and purse m lips

  "This is hardly ostentatious," Christian says, a tad defensively.

  "I know. It's lovely. The best honeymoon a girl could want."

  "Really?" he says, genuinely surprised. And he smiles his shy smile.

  "Ofcourseitis."

  "We've only got two more days. Is there any thins; you'd like to see or do?"

  "Just be with yon." nuirmnr. He rises from the lable. comes around, and

  kisses me on the forehead.

  "Well, can you do without mc for about an hour? I need to check my e-mails,

  find osil w hat's happening at home."

  "Sure," I say I 1 I ill

  him for an hour. Is it freaky that I want to be with him all the time? My subcon-

  scious presses her lips into a narrow . unattractive line and nods vigorously.

  "Thank you for the camera." lie murmurs ami heads for the study.

  Back in our cabin I decide to catch up on my correspondence and open my laptop.

  There are e-mails lion m mom i d I mi Kale a ing me the latest gossip from

  home and asking how ilie hoi n I i 1 until someone de-

  cided to burn down GEH Inc. ... As I finish my response to my mom, an e-mail

  from Kale hits my inbox.

  From: Katherine L. Kavanagh

  Date: August 17, 2011 11:45 PST

  Subject: OMG!!!!

  Ana, just heard about the fire at Christian's office.

  Do you think it's arson?

  Kxox

  Kate is online! I jump on to my newfound toy — Skype messaging and see

  dial she's ax ailable. I quickh type a message.

  Ana: Hey are you there?

  Kate: YES, Ana! How are you? How's the honeymoon? Did

  you see my e-mail? Docs Christian know about the fire?

  Ana: I'm good. Honeymoon's great. Yes, I saw your e-mail.

  Yes, Christian knows.

  Kate: I thought he would. News is sketchy on what happened.

  And Elliot won't tell me anything.

  Ana: Arc ynu fishing for a story?

  Kate: You know me too well.

  Ana: Christian hasn't told me much.

  Kate: Elliot heard from Grace!

  Ohiio I'll) sure Christian does) , nl broa il o li Seattle. I try my

  patented dislracl-lenaeious-ka anagh technique.

  Ana: How are Elliot and Ethan?

  Kate: Ethan has been accepted into the psych course at Seattle

  for his master's degree. Elliot is adorable.

  Ana: Way to go, Ethan.

  Kate: How's our favorite ex-dom?

  Ana: Kate!

  Kate: What?

  Ana: YOU KNOW WHAT!

  Kate: K Sorry

  Ana: He's fine. More than fine. ©

  Kate: Well, as long as you're happy, I'm happy.

  Ana: I'm blissfully happy.

  Kate: © I have to run. Can we talk later?

  Ana: Not sure. See if I am online. Time zones suck!

  Kate: They do. Love you, Ana.

  Ana: Love you, too. Laters. x

  Kate: Laters. 1101 pmgs to a halt at

  the penthouse, we are both breathless.

  "Very happy," he murmurs. His smile is darker now, his eyes hooded and full

  of salacious promise iie shako- his head as if 10 rccmer himself and carries me

  into the foyer.

  "Welcome home, Mrs. Grey." He kisses me again, more chastely this time,

  and gives me the palenled-( 11 I 11 smile his eyes dancing

  It nc in Ii. die 1 ii in 1 11 crii 1 il 111 linn

  with my own joy.

  I think Christian's going to put me down, but he doesn't. He carries me

  through the I su i| 1 1 1 (deposit me on the

  kitchen island where 1 sit with nn legs dangling, lie retrieves two champagne

  flutes from the kitchen cupboard and a bottle of chilled champagne from the

  fridge — our favorite Bollinger. He deftly opens the bottle, not spilling a drop,

  pours the pale pink hampagne int 1 1 I hand le to me. Taking up

  the other, he gently parts ms legs and mm es forw err..: to stand between them.

  "Here's to us, Mrs. Grey."

  "To us, Mr. Grey," I whisper conscious of nn sin smile. W e clink glasses

  "I know you're tired," he whispers, rubbing his nose against mine. "But I'd

  "It's our first night back here, and you're really mine." His voice drifts off as he

  plants soli kisses down m throat. It's earls esening in Seattle, and I am dog-tired,

  but 11 I I ii 1 ells and n 1 goddc purrs.

  Christian is slumbering peaceful!) beside me as I stare at the pink and golden

  streaks of the ncss d 11 tin 11 si ss in. I lis a 1 is draped loosels os cr

  my breasts, and I try to match his breathing in an effort to get back to sleep, but

  it's hopeless. I'm wide-awake, my body clock on Greenwich mean time, my mind

  So much has happened in the last three weeks — who am I kidding, die lust

  three months — that 1 el hal n Ice ha en o ie< lilt a Hind Andnowherel

  am, Mrs. Anastasia Grey, married to the most delicious, sexy, philanthropic, ab-

  surdly wealthy mogul a woman could meet, i low did this all happen so fast?

  I shift onto my side to gaze at him, appraising his beauty. I know he watches

  me sleep, but I rarely get the opportunity to repay the compliment. He looks so

  young and carefree in his sleep, his long lashes fanned against his cheek, a light

  smattering of stubbie covering his jaw. and his sculptured lips slight!) palled, re-

  laxed as he breathes deeply. I want to kiss him, to push my tongue between his

  lips, run my fingers ov er his soli yet prickly stubble. ! really have to fight the urge

  not to touch him, not to disturb him. Hmm ... I could just tease his earlobe with

  my teeth and suck. My subconscious glares up at me over her half-moon spec-

  tacles, distracted from v olume two of the Complete Works of Charles Dickens,

  and mentally chastises me. Leave the poor man alone, Ana.

  I am back to work on Monday. We have today to reacclimatize, then we're

  spending almost every minute together for the last three weeks. I lie back and

  stare at the ceiling. One would think thai spending so much lime together would

  be suffocating, but that's just not the case. I've loved each and every minute, even

  My blood chills Who could warn to harm Christian'.' My mind gnaws at this

  mystery again. Sonic i
i I i tie i disannul d employee? I have

  imum information he can get away with in a bid to protect me. I sigh. My shining

  white-and-dark knight always trying to protect me. How am I going to make him

  open up more?

  He stirs and I still, not wanting to wake him. but it has the opposite effect.

  Damn! Two bright eyes gaze at mc.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing. Go back to sleep." 1 try my reassuring smile. He stretches, rubs his

  face, and then grins at me.

  "Mel lag?" he asks.

  "Is that what this is? I can't sleep."

  "I have the unhersal panacea right here, just for you. baby." He grins like a

  schoolboy making i i I m c i gle al ill ic into nd just like that

  i | ind my teeth find his earlobe.

  Christian and I cruise north on the 1-5 toward the 520 bridge in the Audi R8. We

  arc going to have lunch at his parents', a welcome-home Sunday lunch. All the

  family will be there, plus Kale and Lilian. II » iii be strange lo be in so much com-

  pany when we've been on our own all ibis time. 1 haven't bad an opportunity to

  talk to Christian most of the morning. He was holed up in his study while I un-

  packed. He said I didn't have to, that Mrs. Jones would do it. But that's something

  else I need to get used to — having domestic help. I run my fingers abscntmindedly

  over the leather upholstery of the door to distract my wandering thoughts. I feel

  out of sorts. Is it the jet lag? The arson?

  "Would you let me drive this?" I ask, surprised that 1 say the words out loud.

  "Of course." Christian replies, smiling. ""What's mine is -.ours. If you dent it,

  though, 1 will lake >ou into the Red Room ol Ram." lie glances swiftly at me with

  Shit! I gape at him. Is this a joke?

  ""You're kidding i'oi i b me for dei ing t i on love your car

  more than you love me?" I tease.

  keep me warm at night."

  Christian laughs. ""We haen'i been home one da and vou're kicking me out

  already?" He seems delighted. I gaze at him and he gives me a face-splitting grin,

  and although I want to be mad at him, it's impossible when he's in this kind of

  left his study this morning. And it dawns on me that I'm being petulant because

  we have to go back to reality . and I don't know if lie's going lo revert to the more

  closed pre-honcymoon < 'hristian. i»r if I'll gel lo keen the new improved crsion.

  "Why are you so pleased?" I ask.

  He flashes yet another grin at me. "Because this conversation is so . . .

  "Normal!" I snort "Nol aflcr Ihrcc w ecks of marriage! Surely."

  His smile slips.

  "I'm kidding, Christian," I mutter quickly, not wanting to kill his mood. It

  strikes me how unsu ei ol'hin II ictinn 1 si i 1 that he's always been

  like this, but has 1 1 ill t i c ir. He's

  very easy to tease, probably because he's not used to it. It's a revelation, and I

  marvel again that we -ail I hae so much Hi lean; about each other.

  "Don't worry. I'll slick 10 lire Saah." I muller and lurn to slare out oflhe win-

  dow, trying to shake off my bad mood.

  "Hey. What's wrong?"

  "Nothing."

  "You're so frustrating sometimes, Ana. Tell me."

  I turn and smirk at him. "Back at you, Grey."

  He frowns. "I'm trying," he says softly.

  "I know. Me too." I smile and my mood brightens a little.

  Carrick looks ridiculous in his chef's ha! ami Licensed to Grill apron as he stands

  at the barbecue. Every time I look at him, it makes me smile. In fact, my spirits

  have lifted considerably. We are all sitting around the table on the terrace of the

  Grey family home cnji g llie lale si nmc Grace i d Vlia are setting vari-

  u hi i i ill OK I i Llliol and Chrisi nil In i I i! n

  discuss plans for the nev house, and Lilian and Kale grill me about our honey-

  moon. Christian k^ci hoi i n hand gei loving ilh m> wedding and

  engag. , iciii rings.

  "So if you can get the plans finalized with Gia, I have a window September

  through to mid-November and can get the whole crew on it," Elliot says as he

  "Gia is due to come over to discuss the plans tomorrow evening," replies

  Christian. "I hope we can finalize everything then." He turns and looks expect-

  Y Oh . . . this is news.

  "Sure." 1 smile ai him. mosih loi die benefit ol his I'amiK . hut my spirits lake

  a nosedive again. \ In docs lie make these decisions without telling me? Or is it

  the thought of Ciia ill lush hips, lull bre;isls. cpensic designer clothes, and

  perfume — smiling too provocatively at my husband? My subconscious glares at

  me. He "s given you no reason to be jealous. Shit, I am up and down today. What's

  wrong with me?

  "Ana," Kate exclaims, snapping me out of my reverie. "You still in the South

  of France?"

  "Yes." I reply w ill) a smile.

  "You look so well," she says, though she frowns as she says it.

  "You both do." (.race beams while Elliot refills our glasses.

  "To the happy couple." Carrick grins and raises his glass, and everyone

  around the table echoes the sentiment.

  t i 1 1 t 1 I it I t Scat

  chips in Mia proudly. She gives him an adoring smile, and Ethan smirks at her. I

  amder idly i he made any head w a t li 1 ti It's diffieull to lei

  1 listen to the banter around the table. Christian is running through our ex-

  relaxed and in control, the worry of the arsonist forgotten. I, on the other hand,

  fat yesterday. He was joking.' My subconscious glares at me again. Elliot acci-

  dentally knocks his glass onto the terrace, startling eeryone. and there's a sudden

  Hurry of activity to get it cleaned up.

  "I am going to take you to, die boalhouse and finally spank you in there if you

  I gasp with shock, turn, and gape at him. Winn'.' Is he leasing me'.'

  welcome excitement lie cocks an eyebrow at me. Of course he would. I glance

  quickly at Kate across the table. She's watching us with interest. I turn back to

  Christian, narrowing my eyes at him.

  "You'd have to catch me first — and I'm wearing flats," I hiss.

  "I'd have fun trying." he whispers with a licentious grin, and I think he's jok-

  ing.I blush. Confusingly, I feel better.

  As wc finish our dessert of straw berries and cream, the heavens open and un-

  expectedly soak us. We all leap up to clear the plates and glasses from the table,

  depositing them in the kitchen.

  "Good thing the weather held off till we finished," Grace says pleased, as we

  drift into the back room den. Christian -its down at the shins black upright piano,

  presses the quid pedal, and starts to plas a familiar tunc that I can't immediately

  place.

  Grace asks me for my impressions of Saint Paul de Vence. She and Carrick

  went years ago during their honeymoon, and it occurs to me that this is a good

  omen, seeing how happy (lies are together now. Kale and Elliot arc cuddling on

  one of the large osersluiTed couches, while Lilian. Mia. and Carrick are deep in a

  consersation about psychology, I think.

  Suddenly, as one. all the ( ires s slop talking and, gape at Christian.

  What?

  Christian is singing softly to himself at the piano. Silence descends on us all

  as we strain to hear his soft, lyrical voice. I've heard him sing before
, haven't

  they? He stops, suddenly conscious of the deathly hush that's fallen over the

  room. Kate glances questioningly at me and I shrug. Christian turns on the stool

  "Go on," Grace urges softly. "I've never heard you sing, Christian. Ever."

  and after a beat, he shrugs. His eyes flicker nervously to me, then over to the

  French windows. The rest of the room suddenly erupts in self-conscious chatter,

  and I'm left watching my dear husband.

  Grace distracts me. grasping ms hands then suddenly folding me in her arms.

  "Oh, darling girl! Thank you, thank you," she whispers, so only I can hear. It

  brings a lump to my throat.

  smiles, her eyes shu i a es my chec Oh my ... What have I done?

  ""I am going to make some tea," she says, her voice hoarse with unshed tears.

  I amble over to Christian who is now standing, staring out through the French

  windows.

  "Hi," I murmur.

  "Hi." He puis his arm around my w aisl. pulling me lo him. and 1 slip my hand

  into the back pocket of his jeans. We gaze out at the rain.

  "Feeling better?"

  I nod.

  "Good."

  "You certainly know how to silence a room."

  "I do it all the time," he says and he grins at me.

  "At work, yes, but not here."

  "True, not here."

  "No one's ever heard you sing? Ever?"

  "It appears not," he says dryly. "Shall we go?"

  I gaze up at him, trying to gauge his mood. His eyes are soft and warm and

  slightly bemused. I decide to change the subject.

  "You going to spank me?" ] whisper, and suddenly there are butterflies in my

  stomach. Perhaps this is what I need . . . this is w hat i ha e been missing.

  He gazes down at me, his eyes darkening.

  "I don't want to hurt you. but I'm more than happy to plav ."

  1 glance nervously around the large room but w e are out of earshot.

  "Only il'you misbehave. Mrs. Grey." lie bends and murmurs in my ear.

  How can he put so much sensual promise into six words?

  "I'll see what I can do." I grin.

  Once we've said our good-byes, we walk over to the car.

  "Here." Christian throws me the keys to the R8. "Don't bend it"— he adds in

  all seriousness — "or I will be fucking pissed."

  on her leather dri ing gloves and Hat shoes. Oh rev.' site cries.

  "Yes, before I change my mind."

  I don't think I have ever grinned so hard. He rolls his eyes and opens the

  driver's door so th it 1 can climb in. I start the engine before he's even reached the

  passenger side, and he jumps in quickly.

  "Eager, Mrs. Grey?" he asks with a wry smile.

  "Very."

  Slowly I case ll It u i i tt I manage not to

  stall it, surprising myself. Boy, is the clutch sensitive. Carefully navigating the

  driveway. I glance in my rearv ievv mirror and see Sawyer and Ryan climb into the

  Audi SUV. I had no idea our security had followed us here. I pause before I set

  out onto the main road.

  "You're sure about this?"

  "Yes," Christian says lightly .telling me lie's not si. re about this at all. Oh, my

  poor, poor Fifty. 1 want to laugh at both him and my self because I'm nervous and

  excited. A small part of me wants to lose Sawyer and Ryan just for the kicks. I

  check for traffic then inch the R8 out onto the road. Christian curls up with ten-

  sion and 1 can't resist. The road is clear. 1 put my foot down on the gas and we

  shoot forward.

  "Whoa! Ana!" Christian shouts. "Slow down — you'll kill us both."

  I immediately ease off the gas. Wow, can this car move!

  "Sorry," I mutter, trying to sound contrite and failing miserably. Christian

  smirks at me, to hide his relief, I think.

  "Well, that counts as misbelun ing." he says casually and ! slow right down.

  I glance in the rearview mirror. No sign of the Audi, just a solitary dark car

  with tinted windows behind us. I imagine Sawyer and Ryan flustered, frantic to

  catch up, and for some reason this gives me a thrill. But not wanting to give my

  dear husband a coronary . 1 decide to bclno c and dri c steadily w ilh grow ing con-

  fidence toward the 520 bridge.

  Suddenly. C hristian swears and struggles lo pull his BlackBerrv from the

  pocket of his jeans.

  "What?" lie snaps angrily at whoever it is on the other end of the line. "No."

  he says and glances behind us. "Yes. She is."

  I briefly check the rearview mirror, but I don't see anything odd, just a few

  "I see." Christia in id hat I rubs his I reh id w ilh his lingers,

  k i) on i idial oi i ha i )iik in i i a

  "Yes ... I don't know." He glances at me and lowers the phone from his ear.

  "We're fine. Keep going," he says calmly, smiling at me, but the smile doesn't

  touch his eyes. Shit'. Adrenaline ,pikes through my s; stem. | Ic picks the phone up

  "Okay on the 520. As soon as we hit it ... Yes ... I will."

  I Ic slots the phono into the speaker cradle, putting it on hands-free.

  "What's wrong. Christian?"

  "Just look where yon ng il he says softly.

  I'm heading for the on-ramp of the 520 in the direction of Seattle. W hen I

  lanee ( 1 i a n. he taring huight ahead.

  "I don't want you to panic," he says calmly. "But as soon as we're on the 520

  proper. I want you to step on the gas. We're being followed."

  Followed! Holy shit. My heart lurches into my mouth, pounding, my scalp

  prickles and my tin. it constrict i ni ' I i I nn ' My eyes dart to

  Fuck! h that it'.' I squint through the tinted w indsliield to see who's driving, but I

  "Keep your eyes on the road. baby." Christian says gently, not in the trucu-

  lent tone he normally uses where my driving is concerned.

  Get a grip! 1 menial!;, slap my sell' to subdue the dread that's threatening to

  swamp me. Suppose whoeer's following as is armed? Armed and after Christi-

  an! Shit! I'm hit by a wave of nausea.

  "How do we know we're being followed?" My voice is a breathy, squeaky,

  "The Dodge behind us has false license plates."

  How does he know that?

  1 signal as we approach the 521) from the on-ramp. It's late afternoon, and al-

  though the rain has i d Is I et . Fori i ^ the traffic is reason-

  ably light.

  Ray's voice echoes in my head from one of his many self-defense lectures.

  "It's the panic that's gonna kill you or get you seriously hurt, Annie. " 1 take a

  deep breath, trying to bring my breathing under control. Whoever is following us

  is a ft ci Christian s 1 lake an. thei dee| eadving boa I my mmd begins to

  clear and my stomach settles. J have to keep Christian safe. I w anted to drive this

  car, and I wanted to drive it fast. Well, here's my chance. I grip the steering wheel

  and take a final glance in my rearview mirror. The Dodge is closing on us.

  I slow right down, ignoring Christian's sudden panicked glance at me, and

  time my entrance on to the 520 so that the Dodge has to slow and stop to wait for

  a gap in the traffic. I drop a gear and floor it. The R8 shoots forward, slamming us

 

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