by Rowena
Holes form in the windshield as bullets continue piercing it.
I’m out of options to get him to stop, so I push the gas to the floor and ram the back of him.
The two cars slam together with a resounding crash of fiberglass and metal.
He fishtails as I impact him, while my car jerks side to side.
The steering is tighter than it was, less responsive.
Emilio swerves and I think he’s going to stop, but the car straightens and he keeps going.
He makes a sharp turn, which I follow, then we’re racing up the mountain road on a narrow two-lane that curves back and forth with nothing more than a thin metal guard rail to keep people from going off the side.
Emilio fires once more and a bullet hits directly in front of me, making another hole in the windshield.
My heart pounds as more adrenaline dumps into my body.
I hit the gas, ramming into the side of him, and he fishtails.
As he does, I dodge to the left of him and bump his rear quarter panel.
It forces the car sideways, and he has to let off the gas or drive straight off the edge of the cliff.
I pull my own gun as we slow down and, holding it left-handed out the window, fire blindly.
Bullets bounce off his car but nothing hits anything of import.
He guns the car as he pulls it back under control and races forward.
I bump into his rear again and he fishtails.
He fires over his shoulder and I have to back off to give myself room to dodge the incoming bullets.
The gunshots stop again, so I race forward until I come up beside him.
I aim my gun through the passenger window and fire.
The glass between us explodes and he screams.
He wrenches the wheel to the right, and his car shimmies.
I glance forward and there’s a car heading for me, honking its horn.
I hit the brakes then jerk back into my lane at the last possible minute before I collide with it.
The honking grows louder then recedes as I race after Emilio.
Closing in on him, I hit his car again, then I punch my car hard and try to pass him.
I get fully beside him and he jerks hard to the left, slamming into me. It pushes me to the side and I’m running along the guard rail.
Sparks are flying up past my window and my heart races as I try to force the car back into him.
The car rumbles as the tires struggle to keep purchase on the edge of the road.
I hit the brakes hard and he scrapes past me.
I rev the engine and take off after him again, catching up to him as we come to another sharp curve.
There’s a semi in our lane.
Emilio races toward it, and I can see he’s going to pass it, but I’m further back and see another semi approaching in the oncoming lane.
I honk and flash my lights again, but Emilio races into the passing lane. Only then can he see the oncoming truck.
His car leaps forward as he accelerates, but there’s no time.
His car jerks to the left then skids, and he hits the guard railing as both semis hit their horns.
He crashes through the railing, and his car flies off the road.
I slam on my brakes, bringing the car to a halt.
As I watch Emilio’s car leave the road, it seems to hang in midair, wheels spinning, engine revving, then it drops from sight.
The oncoming semi barrels past me as my car stops.
I jump out and run across the road to where Emilio went over.
The drop-off goes into complete blackness—a straight drop to trees below.
I don’t see any sign of his car or him—all of it swallowed in blackness.
Quiet starts to settle all around me.
As I stare down at the dark, it hits me that it’s over. Bella is safe and free.
My enemy is dead; there’s no way he could have survived a wreck like that.
I pace the side of the road and catch my breath, watching for any signs from below.
Satisfied at last that it’s truly over, I walk back to the car I left parked in the middle of the road.
My love is waiting for me.
Throwing the car into gear, I u-turn and head for her.
Epilogue
One year later…
“Sarah’s checkup was perfect,” Bella says, smiling brightly as she grips my hand.
“Good,” I say, stopping to steal a kiss from her soft lips.
“I want to have these roses taken out and replace them with gardenia,” she says, stopping at one of the rows of flowers in our garden.
“Sure, whatever you think looks best.”
“You don’t care, do you?”
“It’s not that I don’t care—it’s that I fully realize I don’t know anything about flowers. I think our garden is beautiful and when you change it out, I think it’s better.”
“You’re impossible,” she says with a laugh.
“Because I trust your judgment?”
“Because you give me too much,” she says.
“A fault I can live with,” I reply.
We finish our walk through the gardens behind our manor.
As we approach the house, Francesca is sitting on our patio, sipping a tea.
She looks up as we approach.
“Flowers good?” she asks dryly.
“You two,” Bella says with a small grin, shaking her head.
“They’re fine,” I say with a half-shrug.
“I’m going to go check on Sarah,” Bella says, excusing herself.
“Sure, love. Thanks.”
I take a seat opposite Francesca.
I hold up a hand and the butler brings me an iced tea then fades into the background.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Nothing. It’s boring as shit,” Francesca says.
“And this is a problem?”
“Yes. I hate being bored. I miss the good old days of dodging bullets and trying not to get killed.”
I snort, knowing damn well she’s lying.
“So the deal went through with the other families? It’s final?”
“Yes, the Baldini family is firmly under us now. We gave up a quarter of their holdings but kept the docks and gained a lot of ground as well. The other families are happy and no one is grumbling.”
“Good,” I say, taking a sip of the iced tea.
“Yeah. So today’s the day?” she asks.
I smile broadly. “Yes,” I say, a rush of excitement passing through me.
Francesca nods. “How’s Maxwell?”
“He’s doing okay,” I say. “He’s learned to type just as fast again, which was his biggest concern, as you can imagine. He might be a little slower for his Warcraft or whatever, but what can you expect? They took two of his fingers as punishment for helping me escape.”
“Yeah. Animals. Well, good. I wanted to let you know I’m taking a vacation for the next month.”
“Oh? Where you going?”
“Italy,” she says.
“Sounds fun! Enjoy.”
“Thanks. I’ll be back before you know it and you can always call.”
She gets up and walks off.
I finish my tea before going to find Bella, working on my nerves.
Today is a big day for a number of reasons, and Bella is only aware of one of them. It’s time to fill her in on the second.
I make my way toward her and my child.
I lean against the door of the nursery, watching quietly as she finishes reading The Little Rooster to drooling Sarah, who is sitting contentedly in her lap, her bright blue eyes seeming to actually pay attention to the pages.
Sarah has a shock of thick dark hair, and Bella and I can’t decide which of us should get the credit for it.
Bella figures it’s only fair she does since Sarah got my eyes.
Once Bella’s done, she hands Sarah off to the nanny for lunch.
“Ready?” I ask.
>
She takes a deep breath, her face now clouded.
“Ready,” she says. “Let me just grab my coat.”
I had anticipated this particular move, so I reach into my pocket then pull out the small box that had been burning it for weeks and kneel, flipping the box open.
Once Bella grabs her coat and turns back to me, her eyes go wide and both her hands fly to her mouth as she sees me lowered before her.
“You make me so happy, Isabella,” I begin. “Happy in ways I didn’t know existed. Will you make me the happiest man on this earth and honor me by being my wife?”
“Oh god! Donnie!” she exclaims, tears springing to her eyes and quickly falling down her face.
She looks even more beautiful.
“Is that a yes?”
“Oh, yes! Dear god, yes!” she says, wiping her face then holding her hand out.
I take the ring out of its holder and slide it onto her finger, my chest swelling.
Bella holds up her hand, watching the ring sparkle.
I stand and she jumps on me, throwing her arms around me.
Then our mouths meet in a passionate kiss.
We are both breathless when we finally pull away.
“It’s time to go,” I say reluctantly, wanting to squeeze more out of the moment, but we have another date.
“Okay,” she says, nodding happily.
I enjoy her lightened mood for as long as I can as we walk out to the car.
We drive in comfortable silence.
When I turn onto the mountain road, Bella frowns, but that’s the only outward sign of what we’re doing or where we’re going.
I pull off the side of the road next to the site of the accident.
I open up the trunk, pulling out the wreath Bella picked out, and we walk to the edge of the cliff.
“I know I shouldn’t feel bad about this,” she says.
“He was your father,” I say gently.
“He was a monster. If you hadn’t saved me…” She trails off, unable or unwilling to finish the thought.
“I think we saved each other,” I say.
She flashes me a brief smile and I hand her the wreath.
She walks to the railing that’s been replaced since that night and kneels down so that she can drive the supporting wires down into the dirt.
When she turns back to me, my arms are waiting, and she walks into them, her head nestling deliciously against my broad chest.
I hold her tightly to me, rubbing her back soothingly.
“Wherever he is, I’m sure your father would be glad to know you and his granddaughter are being taken care of. I love you, Bella. You’re everything to me, and I’ll make sure you and our baby have everything you need. I promise.”
“Sheesh, save some for the wedding vows,” she says playfully. Then she looks up at me, and my heart melts as her sparkling eyes meet mine. “I love you too, Donnie. Here I am, free at last, and there’s nothing I want more than to be tied to you.”
She holds out her hand and stares at the ring again, her mood lifting once more.
I steal another kiss from her sweet lips and she melts into it, deepening it as she wraps her arms around me.
It is a kiss filled with joy and love found. A kiss that seals our commitment to each other.
Check out Rowena’s Amazon Author page for more of her work! More romantic suspense novels coming soon, including possible spinoffs involving other characters from this story.
Join Rowena’s mailing list for news about upcoming releases, sales, giveaways, etc. here!
UP NEXT: an excerpt from Penalty, a bad boy sports romance.
SYNOPSIS: Once superstar jock Abraham Stone notices shy Madison Mills, all hell breaks loose.
He is determined to have her, finally deciding to shed his longtime gold-digging girlfriend, Bethany, in favor of the quiet, unassuming nerd.
But with Abe’s determined desire comes crippling unforeseen consequences.
Jilted Bethany won’t go down without a vicious fight, and in the end, they will all pay for piercing each other’s sphere, one way or another.
Can the athletic alpha convince Madison he’s worth the cost?
**Grab it now or keep reading for a sample!**
EXCERPT
Penalty
MADISON
I keep getting tossed between regret and relief.
As I stand alone in front of my dorm room mirror, brushing my curly brassy tresses, I’m relieved I don’t have far to go to reach my English class.
I don’t have to rush doing my hair or anything because I’ve calculated how long it will take me to get from here to there with time to spare.
But as I glance over at my roommate’s side of the room, regret fills me once more.
I absolutely would’ve preferred a single, but priority went to those who have been here longer, and as a transfer, I ended up getting stuck with a double.
I was apparently ‘lucky’ to get on-campus housing at all, especially since I transferred in the spring semester.
Sure, I could have rented a place outside of school, but that whole process seemed nightmarish to me.
I hate hassle, and this double seemed like the quickest and easiest solution.
Plus, I figured being on campus would help me get acclimated to the new school faster; the orientation period alone won’t cut it.
But every time my roommate, Judy, and I cross paths, I groan inwardly.
Not that she’s terrible or a pain or anything—I just like my own space. I like things arranged the way I like, as quiet as I like, without occasional weird smells and surprise questionable objects showing up in my living space.
I like not having to pretend I didn’t hear the sounds of sex coming from her side of the room as it happened—the lucky guy continually groaning “oh yeah” as the bed also told on them, giving me an idea of the rhythm of his thrusts as it squeaked.
I’d prefer not having to hear Judy moan—even though I could tell she tried to be quiet.
I had wondered if her lover got off on the idea of another girl just a few feet away, a victim of the live porn suddenly thrust upon her. Maybe it made him feel like he was with two women instead of one. Maybe he likes being watched and listened to—I heard that’s a thing. Maybe they both get turned on by the idea of someone paying rapt attention to their fornication, unable to help their physical reaction to the sounds of it.
I did my best not to let my imagination run away with me and give the guy a face or body, tried hard not to think about his hard, long penis stuffed inside her vagina, driving into it with rhythmic thrusts.
I tried to stop wondering what that feels like—to have a man between your legs, part of him inside of you. The feel of his hard organ pushing in and out as his ass contracts with the effort.
Were they completely naked?
Did the guy just have his dick out, otherwise remaining clothed while she just lifted up her skirt and pulled her panties aside?
A small part of me wanted to peek, I won’t lie, but the thought made me feel guilty, and the room was dark anyway—I wouldn’t have been able to see much.
I could hear them, though, and my imagination filled in enough blanks to make me slick between my own legs and sort of jealous I didn’t get to feel what it was like myself.
It sounds like it feels so good—not that I have a ton of experience listening to people have sex.
I’ve never actually watched porn, although I caught a glimpse of it once when a high school classmate emailed me a clip, and I unwittingly opened it since the title and body of the email were misleading—said something about cute, funny puppies. Obviously, my classmate’s sick idea of a joke.
My mom pretty much caught me immediately since the speakers were on and the man and woman were making sounds much like my roommate’s and her temporary lover, although much louder, more exaggerated.
My mom and I had quite a talk after that, and even though the whole thing wasn’t my fault, I felt gui
lty enough to suppress all curiosity along those lines.
It’s not like I had a boyfriend at the time or anything anyway.
I haven’t had to wonder about sex for years, buried deep in my studies and other concerns—until my roommate reminded me what I was missing two nights ago as she got pounded a few feet away from me, making me touch myself for the first time in a long time as my core tingled with need, moving me to ease the urge.
Judy’s exactly what my mom would have called a bad influence, had I met her earlier.
But I’m not so impressionable now, so I try to be open to her, even though she’s one of those alternative types—sort of goth and emo with her almost all-black wardrobe, dyed black hair, piercings, and tattoos.
Still, I had to have a talk with her about bringing guys over like that, and we agreed not to.
Of course, it’s easiest for me to follow that rule since I never actually had a boyfriend, and I don’t really anticipate picking one up while trying to finish my studies, distraction-free.
Judy seemed cool and understanding about it, and luckily, she leaves pretty early for her first class of the day, and she’s far more social than I am, so she finds other things to do and places to go evenings and weekends. I don’t actually have to deal with her much.
After a few more brushes, I gather my three and a half feet of hair into twists and manipulate it so that it doesn’t look nearly as long as it is.
My hair has never been cut, and though it would be more convenient to have a shorter, more manageable style, my hair is pretty much the last thing I have that reminds me of my mother, besides photos, of course.
I look nothing like her otherwise—she was a creamy-skinned blonde with blue-green eyes, and I have light brown skin with brown eyes and dark, wavy locks.
But we both sported thigh-length hair.
I never met my dad, but I imagine he had dark brown skin and brown eyes like mine.
He’s likely responsible for the overall stark difference in looks between my mother and me—why some people thought I was adopted.
He’s probably the reason why my hair curls instead of hanging straight like my mom’s.