“Can I see your license and registration?”
She reached into the back seat, where Michael had thrown her purse. It took three tries to extract her driver’s license from her wallet. Then she fumbled in the glove box until she found her registration papers. Her hand trembled as she handed them to the police officer.
“Can I ask what the problem is?” Her voice wobbled, and she didn’t dare glance at Michael. He remained sprawled on the seat, apparently unconscious.
“You have a broken taillight.”
Eleanor closed her eyes. She remembered hearing the sound of the taillight breaking as Michael tried to force her into the car. How ironic, she thought. After all the surreal events that had unfolded tonight, a broken piece of plastic was turning out to be the most dangerous.
The police officer studied her driver’s license for a moment, then trained his flashlight on Michael. “And you were driving very carefully. It’s been my experience that intoxicated drivers often drive under the speed limit.” He transferred the light to Eleanor. “Have you been drinking?”
“No!” She stared at the man, shocked. It was the last thing she’d expected him to ask. “I haven’t had anything to drink tonight.” Her mouth was suddenly dry as sand.
The officer moved the light back to Michael. “How about your friend? What’s wrong with him?”
Eleanor took a deep breath. How would she feel if her date had gotten drunk and she’d had to drive him home? She’d be angry, she decided.
“He’s definitely drunk.” She put all the scorn she could summon into the words. “I told him I’d be the designated driver, but I didn’t think he would drink himself under the table. I had to ask two strangers to pour him into the car. Now I just want to dump him at his apartment.”
The police officer didn’t appear to be paying any attention to her. His flashlight remained fixed on Michael, as if he was trying to study his face. Her stomach twisted sharply, and her damp hands slipped lower on the steering wheel. What was wrong with her? Why didn’t she tell the cop that Michael had kidnapped her?
It was the gun, she told herself. The gun he was keeping carefully hidden, but was now pointing directly at the officer.
The flashlight moved slowly from Michael’s head down his back, then suddenly halted. Moving only her eyes, she saw the black stain of blood surrounding the ragged gash on the back of Michael’s shirt. Clearly, the police officer noticed it, too, because the flashlight remained frozen in place.
“Would you get out of the car?” he finally said. His voice was hard and edged with tension.
“Why do I need to get out of the car for a broken taillight?”
He took the beam of light off Michael and trained it on her face, effectively blinding her. The man became nothing more than a dark shadow looming in the edges of her vision. “Just get out of the car, ma’am. Slowly. And keep your hands where I can see them.” He moved a step away from the car and rested his hand on his gun.
What should she do? Eleanor thought frantically. If she got out of the car, Michael would have a clear shot at the officer. If she refused, would the cop pull out his gun? Was Michael telling her the truth?
Would they both be killed?
Before she could make up her mind, Michael suddenly lunged in her direction. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the cop bring up his arm, as Michael shifted into Drive and stomped his foot on the gas pedal. The car shot forward.
The officer shouted as Michael’s foot pushed the accelerator relentlessly to the floor. “Steer the car, for God’s sake,” he yelled in Eleanor’s ear.
She veered into the line of traffic, bracing herself for an inevitable collision. Horns blared and tires screeched. A car swerved violently next to her, smashing her sideview mirror, shattering the glass. Somehow she managed to straighten the car and keep it from moving across the yellow lines.
“Good job,” Michael said, easing his foot off the gas. Terrified, she automatically pressed the pedal to the floor. “Just keep going. Don’t stop, no matter what happens.”
The casing of the side mirror exploded into tiny pieces, and she glanced over to see how close the other car had gotten. To her surprise, there was no vehicle next to her.
“What happened?” she asked. “Where’s the car I hit?”
“You didn’t hit another car.” Michael’s voice was grim. “He’s shooting at us.”
“What?”
“Your mirror was hit by a bullet. No, don’t look back,” he said when she instinctively glanced in the mirror. “Just keep driving. Faster.”
“Why are they shooting at us?” she asked. Her brain refused to work. “He said he stopped us because I had a broken taillight.”
“The taillight has nothing to do with it,” Michael said curtly. “Ruiz probably saw the blood on my back and recognized me.”
“But he could have shot me, too!”
“He doesn’t care, Ellie. He doesn’t care who gets in the way.”
“What did you do?” she whispered.
“Not now.” He looked over his shoulder. “Turn here. Quickly.”
Glancing in the rearview mirror again, she saw flashing lights behind her. A lot of flashing lights. Cruisers were several blocks away but drawing closer.
The sedan skidded around the corner on two wheels, tires screeching. It swerved as it straightened out, then Eleanor gained control and raced down the side street.
After a block Michael said, “Turn right.”
She shot him a startled glance. “Don’t you mean left? If we turn right, we’ll be heading right back toward them.”
“Turning left is what they expect us to do. They think we’ll try to get out of Midland as fast as we can. So we’re going to do just the opposite.”
“All right.” She swung the car around the corner, then pressed the accelerator again.
After she’d gone a couple of blocks, he twisted to look behind them again. “Okay, turn left again, then right two streets over.”
The sounds of sirens got closer and closer, and her heart jumped wildly in her chest. When she’d made the two turns, he put his hand on her arm. “Stop here,” he said, when they were in the middle of a block.
“Are you crazy?” she yelled. “We’re just going to wait for them to catch up to us?”
“They’re not going to catch up with us,” he answered. The pressure on her arm increased for a fraction of a moment, almost as if he was reassuring her. “They’re all heading in the opposite direction. So we’re going to go back where we started.”
“You’re taking me back to the library?” She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.
“We’re not going anywhere near the library,” he said harshly. “As soon as they figure out who you are, the library will be swarming with cops. We’re heading back into downtown Midland.”
“Is that safe?” Her teeth were chattering, even though it was the middle of summer and the car wasn’t air-conditioned.
“It’s as safe as it’s going to get for us.” His tone was hard.
As she put the car in gear and pulled onto the empty street, she stared at the dark factories flying past. She felt oddly detached, as if she was observing two complete strangers acting out a script in front of her.
“Damn it, Ellie, snap out of it,” he growled. “Don’t fall apart on me now. We’re almost there.”
“I’m not falling apart,” she said, as she started down the deserted street.
“Yeah, you are. I can see your eyes glazing over.” She glared at him through narrowed eyes. “Is this better?”
“Yeah, it is.” He relaxed back into his seat. “I worry when you’re not giving me grief.”
She opened her mouth to retaliate, then clenched her teeth together and stared out the windshield. He was right. She hadn’t been paying attention. And he had known exactly what to do to get her to focus.
How did he know so much about her? she thought with a flicker of alarm. Was she that easy to read?
/> She didn’t have time to gnaw at that question right now. “What do we do next?” She was proud of how steady her voice sounded.
“Now we ditch your car. Somewhere it won’t be found right away.”
“What do we do then? How are we going to get out of Midland?” She froze. She had said “we” without even thinking.
“We’ll get another car.” He smiled grimly. “Don’t worry, Ellie. The cops may outnumber us, but I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
“Learned, no doubt, from your years of trying to avoid them,” she said tartly, trying to cover her uneasiness at the way she’d automatically aligned herself with him.
To her surprise, he didn’t reply with a snappy comeback, as she’d expected. Instead he stared straight ahead. “Yes,” he said, his voice was low. She noticed his jaw muscles working. His eyes were as hard and cold as a block of ice.
She wanted to tell him she didn’t really think he’d spent years fleeing the police, but she couldn’t force the words past her stiff lips. Although she was no longer afraid he would hurt her, she didn’t know anything about him, she reminded herself. He really could be a desperate criminal on the run.
He continued to direct her through the streets of Midland, until she realized they were once again in the same area as the abandoned warehouse they’d stopped at earlier. “What are we doing here?” she asked uneasily.
“I don’t want the police to find your car right away,” he said. “Turn here.”
She swung the car around the corner and saw a row of dilapidated buildings. They looked like sightless old men standing wearily in the night. The two-flats all had their shades and draperies drawn tightly against the night. There wasn’t a soul on the street.
“I didn’t know anyone lived in this area,” she said.
“There are residential pockets here and there.” He glanced up and down the street, but it was deserted. “Okay, pull into the alley.”
The car bumped along the gravel-covered lane, dipping into the ruts. The alley was barely wide enough for a vehicle, and it was lined with garages as neglected as the two-flats. Streetlights with broken bulbs stood like dark sentinels over the decaying neighborhood.
“Stop here.” He indicated a tall cyclone fence that enclosed what appeared to be a vacant lot. The fence had slats threaded through the links to hide the interior from view. There was a large gate in the fence, locked with a sturdy-looking padlock.
Michael edged out of the car and used a key to open the gate. Swinging it wide on hinges that creaked, he motioned for her to drive through.
Vehicles of various sizes crowded the enclosed space, their shapes shadowy and mysterious in the dim light. After closing the gate behind them, Michael came to the driver’s side and opened the door.
“Slide over,” he said, easing in beside her. He drove toward what looked to be an impenetrable wall of metal, but turned out to be a narrow pathway twisting between the wrecks. Now that she was closer, she saw that all the vehicles were stripped to the bone. Most had no doors or fenders, the hoods and trunks were gone, and there was little left of the interiors.
He steered the car into a spot between two mangled pickup trucks, then turned off the ignition. The sudden silence surprised her. It was hard to believe they were surrounded by the city of Midland.
“Where are we?” she asked, uneasiness creeping over her again.
“This is a private junkyard. Belongs to a…business associate of mine.” Michael’s eyes were suddenly hard and bleak. “No one will find your car and it’ll be safe.”
She looked around, both fascinated and apprehensive. “I wasn’t worried about my car.” The beige sedan, which she suddenly despised, was the least of her problems right now. “I’ve never heard of a private junkyard. Where did all these cars come from?”
He paused for a moment, his expression flat and cold. “Let’s just say the owner is an entrepreneur. He sells them for scrap.”
Neither of them spoke again. Darkness and silence settled around them like a heavy cloak, and surprisingly enough, her fear began to dissipate. She might be alone with a stranger in a dangerous part of Midland, but she felt oddly safe. They were hidden behind towering piles of cars, the warm, heavy air of the Illinois summer night barely stirring. The place should have felt stuffy and confining, but instead was strangely intimate.
It was stupid to feel so comfortable, she reminded herself. “Don’t we need to get going?” she asked.
“Not yet. I think we’ll sit here awhile.”
“What for?”
“I’m waiting until my gut tells me to leave.”
“And how long will that be?”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I figure it out.” He eased back against the seat and she heard him suck in his breath.
Suddenly she remembered the blood on his back. “You’re hurt,” she said, frowning.
“Don’t get your hopes up. It’s not fatal.”
“What happened?”
“A bullet got a little too close.”
“You mean you’ve been shot?” She was horrified.
“It grazed me. Just needs to be cleaned and bandaged.”
“You haven’t taken care of it.” Before she could think about what she was doing, she leaned toward him. “Let me see.”
“No!” His voice was gruff. “I’ll take care of it once we’re someplace safe.”
“Don’t be so stubborn. At the rate we’re going, that could be a while.” She leaned closer and saw weariness in his face, lines of pain and exhaustion around his eyes. “As soon as we leave this junkyard, we’ll get some first-aid supplies.”
He shifted into a more comfortable position and gave her the ghost of a grin. “Are you always so bossy, Ellie?”
“Always,” she said firmly. “Especially with someone who so clearly needs direction.”
“I’m shaking in my shoes,” he said mildly.
He didn’t look at all intimidated. His face had relaxed and that faint grin flirted around his mouth again, as if he enjoyed sparring with her.
Warmth slowly unfurled inside of her, as if she’d taken a gulp of some potent brandy that heated as it flowed through her veins. She savored the feeling for a moment, then caught herself and scowled. That warmth could mean nothing but trouble.
“We can’t sit here all night waiting for your gut to reach some decision,” she said briskly. “You’re hurt and the wound needs tending.”
Michael gave her a faint smile that brightened the darkness, then he shifted painfully to sit upright. “Nag, nag, nag,” he said, but his tone was mild. “All right, let’s get going.”
He eased open the car door, then stepped out into the night. Eleanor scrambled out her side, watching him with a frown. He seemed a lot weaker than when he’d forced her into the car at the library.
She refused to examine her fears about a man who had brutally kidnapped her just a few hours ago. He was hurt, and she was stuck with him now. The bullets the police fired at her had convinced her of that. She’d make sure Michael and she got to a safe place, then she’d take care of his wound. Only because she was curious to hear his story, she assured herself.
A few minutes later they stepped into the darkness of the alley. Without thinking, she reached for his hand as she tried to avoid the deep ruts in the gravel. He tensed when she slipped her hand into his, then his fingers tightened around hers. He steered her firmly over the uneven surface.
As they approached the mouth of the alley, he pulled her into the shadows. Angling his body in front of hers, he waited for what seemed like forever. One streetlight cast a small pool of light across the street. The rest of the lights were broken. The street itself was eerily deserted and silent. There were no cars, no people, not even an animal in sight.
“All right, let’s go,” he whispered. They moved away from the shelter of the garage and its shadows and started to cross the street. Before they’d gone more than a handful of steps, she caught a flash of light out of the
corner of her eye.
Michael swore viciously and yanked her back toward the garage. They made it into the shadows before the car reached them, and Michael pressed her against the warm wood of the garage, his chest crushed into her back.
Listening to the low growl of the car’s engine as it crept closer, she felt a flutter of panic. What was she hoping for? Did she want the car to stop or keep going? Had the occupants seen them race back into the shadows? Was it someone looking for Michael?
As the sound of the engine got closer, she felt Michael tense, then he pushed her to the ground. But before he covered her body with his, she saw the distinctive black logo of the Midland police force on the side of the car and the bar of lights on top of it.
Seconds ticked by too slowly as the car cruised slowly past their hiding place. She trembled violently as she waited for the cruiser to stop, braced herself for the hail of bullets that would surely follow. An image of the disintegrating side mirror of her car played over and over in her mind. The police had been shooting at her. Had been trying to kill her.
But the car continued down the street without hesitating. When the sound of the engine finally faded away, she drew air deep into her suddenly aching lungs. She’d been holding her breath without even realizing it.
“Let’s go.”
Michael rose slowly and painfully from the ground, then started moving in the direction from which the car had come. She stumbled after him, glancing over her shoulder, expecting the police car to reappear any moment.
“Don’t worry, he’s gone.”
“How can you be sure?” she whispered.
“Because if he’d seen us, he would have stopped. He won’t be back for another hour or so.” Michael hesitated on the curb, his gaze sweeping the area. Then he urged her to the other side.
“Maybe he’s waiting for us around the corner,” she muttered.
“He’s not. He’s on patrol. If he had noticed anything suspicious, he would have stopped. Since he didn’t, he must be continuing his rounds.”
“I guess when you’re a criminal, it pays to know police routines,” she said. Fear again laced her voice.
“Yeah, it does.” Michael pulled her into the shadows of the next alley, then looked down at her. “But that’s not why I know what the police are going to do next.”
Two on the Run (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 4