“Two reasons. One, if you slow down as you approach, they’ll think you’re going to stop. Two, your little Mercedes has airbags. If you decelerate to fifteen miles per hour and then accelerate through the collision, but still keep it under twenty, you’re far less likely to deploy your airbags.”
He had a point. It would be hard to escape would-be hostage takers with broken ribs and a concussion.
“Okay.” She eased up on the gas.
“Good. Now aim for the rear wheel. In your little car, you’d want to drop down to second gear.”
His words registered, but she didn’t answer. Her world narrowed to a tunnel consisting of the Crown Vic in front of her, her feet, and her hands. She pressed herself back against the seat. As the word ‘Now’ reached her ears, she accelerated, shifted her attention to the patch of the skid pad on the other side of the blockade, and drove through the sedan, which spun to the side. She zipped past it and came to a stop at the end of the pad.
“Yes!” She pumped her fist as a wash of adrenaline rushed through her.
Trent grinned at her. “Ready to do it again?”
She glanced over to the field where the first crumpled Crown Victorians sat, forlorn and sad-looking. “How many cars is your boss going to let me destroy?”
“As many as it takes for you to feel confident that you’ll be able to breach a barrier. Do you feel good?”
She did. “Yeah.”
“Great. Then let’s practice your J-turn. After you ram through a blocking car, you’ll need to have a plan. Going forward is, well, fairly straightforward. But if you need to reverse and gun it, the faster the better.”
She grinned back at him. “Watch and learn.” If there was one move she had confidence in, it was her reverse bootleg. During her training at The Farm, she’d mastered it faster than anyone else in her class.
She threw the car into reverse and hit the gas, keeping her eyes forward. Once she was clear of the sedan, she crossed her left hand over the steering wheel and put it at the three o’clock position, grabbed the gear shift with her right, and goosed the gas, speeding up until the car’s weight shifted to its rear tires. When she felt the movement, she cranked the wheel sharply, sending the car into a spin.
As the car’s spin hit ninety degrees, she yanked to straighten the steering wheel. And, just like that, the car was facing the opposite direction and the blockade was once again in her rearview mirror. She shifted out of reverse into drive and floored it for a moment.
Flush with excitement, she stopped the car and beamed at Trent. She raised her hand for a high five, but he pulled her into a side hug instead. His arms and chest were strong and solid through his silky fire-retardant tactical shirt. He smelled of cedar and chocolate. And his heart beating against her cheek was an electric pulse that warmed her instantly.
It had been months since Mateo had touched her, even in passing. She stared at Trent, drinking in his square jaw, chiseled cheeks, and gold-flecked eyes. She realized she wasn’t breathing. She smiled shakily and pulled away.
“That was fun,” she murmured.
“Where did you learn to do that? I’ve never seen a better J-turn.”
She cleared her throat and was glad for the interruption when his communicator sounded.
“It’s Jake in the office,” he explained before clicking a button to send the call through the car’s speakers. “Jake, did you see Olivia’s kick-ass reverse bootleg?”
“I watched on the camera feed. You’re a heck of a teacher, Trent.”
“No, man. That was all her. She’s either a natural or—”
Jake’s voice broke in. “Mrs. Santos’ husband’s been trying to get ahold of her. She left her phone in your office, and it’s been ringing nonstop. I mean that literally. She has her phone locked down, but Ian saw the number flash on her display and copied it down. I called it back. Mateo Flores needs to speak to her urgently. From what I can gather, it’s a family emergency of some kind. I’m patching him through.”
Olivia’s excitement drained away, and she white-knuckled the steering wheel. She could feel the man beside her watching her, but kept her eyes pinned forward and stared sightlessly through the windshield.
“Olivia?” Mateo’s tight voice crackled through the car’s audio system.
“Yes.”
“Where in blazes are you? I called your grandmother’s rehabilitation center and spoke to the nurse on her floor. No one’s seen you there since early this morning.”
“Something came up.”
“The man who called me back said you’re taking a driving course. What the hell is going on?” he demanded.
“I’ll explain when I see you tomorrow.”
“No. You’re coming home today.”
She huffed out a breath and spoke in a deliberately calm tone. “You clearly got my message if you called the rehabilitation center. I explained I need to push back my return until tomorrow.”
“Olivia, I diverted the plane to a private airport near Charles Town. Go directly there.” It was an order, not a request.
“That’s not going to work. I need to drop my aunt’s car off and then—”
“You seem to think I’m asking you to come home now. I’m not. I’m telling you get your ass on that plane.”
Her cheeks burned. She’d grown accustomed to Mateo speaking to her like this in private. But he never showed his true colors in front of others. Of course, he didn’t know that Trent was sitting next to her, hearing every word. The thought of Trent witnessing her humiliation was almost too much to bear, and she squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall.
“Are we clear?” Mateo demanded.
“Yes. I’ll see you tonight.” She glanced at Trent, pleading with her eyes for him to disconnect the call and put her out of her misery.
He nodded, then pressed a button on his headset, and an electronic beep sounded.
She stared down at her hands in her lap for a long, silent moment, gathering herself. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
He grunted noncommittally. When she glanced up at him from under her lowered eyelashes, he was watching her closely.
“Why do you let him talk to you that way?” His voice was low and growly.
How could she possibly explain? She couldn’t.
“It’s a long story.”
“Tell you what. I know where that airstrip is. I’ll drive you there, and you can tell me all about it on the way.”
She hesitated. She wouldn’t mind spending more time with Trent. But this mess was her problem, not his. She’d deal with it on her own.
He went on. “Look, we can send an operative to deliver the station wagon back to your aunt’s place. Where’s she keep it?”
She relented. “She’s at her place at the shore, but she leaves the wagon at her house in Chevy Chase, mainly for the housekeeper to use. Are you sure? It’s a long drive and—”
“Potomac will be happy to do it, Ms. Santos.”
She couldn’t help but notice the distancing in his language. He switched from Trent helping Olivia to the corporation accommodating a client. A wave of disappointment washed over her. For the first time in a long time, she’d allowed herself to believe she could have a friend.
She shook her head at her silliness. She barely knew him. He was simply doing his job. And even if he were going to befriend a client, who would ever get close to a person who allowed herself to be treated like a doormat?
He was watching her, waiting for a response.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“That’s settled. Let’s go back to the office and grab your bag and your phone, then we’ll get you to the airstrip, and you’ll be on your way.”
“Sounds like a plan.” She mustered a smile, or what she hoped would pass for one.
His eyes fell on her hands, which were still laced together in her lap. Despite her efforts to still them, he must have noticed the shaking.
“I’ll dri
ve, and we’ll trade this beast for a company SUV while we’re at it.”
She exited the dinged and dented sedan and circled around the front to the passenger side. She spared a final glance at the crumpled cars that littered the field. She could hardly believe that minutes ago she’d been flying—exuberant and more alive that she’d felt in years—and now there was a cold, hard knot of dread lodged in her stomach. She felt … nothing. It was the only way to survive.
Trent settled in behind the wheel and adjusted the seat’s position. He glanced over to confirm that she was buckled into the harness, then peeled out and zoomed across the track to the access road.
She studied his profile. A muscle in his cheek twitched. Other than that movement, his face was hard, stony. She couldn’t tell whether he was angry, disappointed, or just irritated that his day was shot by the need to play errand boy to deliver someone’s errant wife. She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat and turned away to watch out the window as the rolling farmland whizzed by in ribbons of green.
5
Trent was silent during the drive back to the garage. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Anything he said was bound to be laced with profanity and disrespect for Olivia Santos’ jackass of a husband. So, having nothing nice to say, he employed the age-old advice of mothers the world over and said nothing.
He did, however, steal several glances at his passenger. Her face was drawn and pale, almost translucent, except for two bright red blotches on her cheeks. He could tell from the stiff way she held her head and stared out the window that she was deliberately not making eye contact with him. He wanted to pound the steering wheel in frustration at the way her husband had treated her but kept a firm grip on his emotions until he pulled the car into the garage bay.
She was out of the car before it stopped moving. She raced through the open bay door and, for a heartbeat, he expected her to sprint toward the distant mountains. Instead, she stood and stared out at them. He killed the engine and popped the hood so one of the mechanics could give the engine a once-over.
He walked out of the garage and stood behind her, slightly off to the side. If she heard him approach, she gave no sign.
He cleared his throat. “We should go grab your stuff and get you on the road.”
She nodded, and they set off across the lot.
Aside from all the other reasons why Olivia’s husband was a jerk, the fact that he’d ruined the triumph of her perfect J-turn ate at Trent. He hadn’t exaggerated when he told her she was a natural. She was a damn fine driver, and he’d enjoyed working with her. But the faint, sour tang in his mouth overshadowed the pleasure he’d felt.
They reached the doors, and he cleared his throat a second time. “While you get your phone and bag, I need to talk to Jake. I’ll meet you back here in a few minutes.”
“Sure.” Her tone was wooden and dull, and she kept her eyes downcast.
He waved his badge in front of the reader and waited for the metallic beep to signal that the lock had disengaged. When it sounded, he pulled the door open and ushered her inside. She beelined for his open office door, and he swerved right to the short dogleg that led to Jake’s office, tucked away in the back of the building.
Unlike most CEOs, Jake hadn’t picked the prime real estate for his office. He worked out of a glorified closet. Clients and other visitors thought he was being modest or showing solidarity with his operators, reminding them that he was just one of the guys.
And there was some of that. But the truth was the shoebox-sized office had the one amenity that was most important to Jake. Through the single square window, the mountains were perfectly framed and centered, the view unobstructed by buildings or trees. True to form, Jake was gazing out the window when Trent rapped on the open door’s frame.
“Come in,” he said without turning away from the view. “I already heard—you’ve volunteered to be Ms. Santos’ personal driver.”
“Did you hear the call with her husband?”
“Yeah. I stayed on the line.”
“Who acts that way?” Trent fisted his hands. “That’s a hell of a way to talk to anyone—the carwash guy or your grocery bagger—let alone the woman you’re supposed to love.”
Jake turned and fixed him with a look. “You’re not getting too involved with this woman, are you?”
Trent laughed. “How involved could I get? I’ve spent, what?—a grand total of two hours with her?”
“She’s a good-looking woman.”
“Is she? I mean, I guess. She’s not my type.”
A shadow of sorrow shaded Jake’s face.
“She’s very different from Carla,” Jake agreed in a soft voice. He hesitated, then said, “That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
“Well, she’s also very married to some rich prick. That is a bad thing.”
“That’s fair. And you want to take the rest of the day off to run errands for some random student who you aren’t attracted to. Makes total sense.”
Trent suppressed a grin. “I just want to get her on her plane. And I thought you could have a tandem team drive her aunt’s car back to Chevy Chase. You know, as a favor to Senator Anglin.”
Jake didn’t bother to hide his smile. “Right, a favor for the senator. Good idea. Thanks for putting Ms. Santos through her paces today. I didn’t get down to the observation window to watch much, but I took a look at the computer data. She ought to be able to handle her own if she’s targeted when she gets back to Mexico City.”
“Yeah. She shouldn’t have a problem.” His voice was casual, as if the mere thought of Olivia being targeted by kidnappers in a dangerous foreign city didn’t turn the blood in his veins to ice and lodge a rock in his chest.
Jake was watching him closely. “Be careful.”
“The stretch of road from here to the airstrip isn’t exactly rife with danger. I mean, I guess I should keep an eye out for deer.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I’m worried about the husband. He seems like the type who might have a jealous streak.”
Jake held his gaze for a moment, and Trent shook his head.
“I told you. She’s just a student.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
Trent backed out into the hall and pulled the door closed.
6
The drive from Potomac’s facility to the airstrip was blessedly short, and what little traffic they encountered was no match for Trent’s driving maneuvers.
Olivia watched him weave between two slow-moving tractor trailers, creating a hole that hadn’t existed a moment earlier.
“You’re good.”
Her voice sounded too loud in the silence that had fallen over the SUV’s passenger compartment.
“I oughta be. Lots of time behind the wheel.”
She glanced at his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel. A deep white scar bisected his right hand and arm on an angle, running from the webbing between his thumb, crossing the back of his hand, and curving wickedly around his outer wrist.
“How’d you get the scar?” She tipped her chin toward his hand.
He flicked his eyes away from the road, and his gaze fell on his exposed wrist and the injury as if he’d never seen it before.
“Oh, I was breaking down some boxes. Got sloppy with the box cutter. Stupid mistake.” He dismissed the question airily.
She cocked her head. “Really? Because I noticed in your office that you’re right-hand dominant. I’m trying to imagine how even clumsy use of a box cutter with your right hand results in that cut, and I have to tell you, I can’t work it out.”
He sat up a tiny bit straighter. If she hadn’t been looking for a reaction, she would have missed it.
He glanced over at her. “What did you say you do in Mexico City?”
“I didn’t.”
His full lips curved into the hint of a smile.
“Okay, then. What do you do in Mexico City?”
“Something that means I know th
e difference between a slipped box cutter and a defensive wound sustained in a knife fight. By the looks of it, your opponent was wielding a small hunting knife.”
She knew she shouldn’t show off, shouldn’t entice him. But the catch of his breath and the gleam in his eye when he studied her made the foolish risk more than worth it. He was looking at her like she was fascinating, amazing, special. A thrill zinged through her, a reminder that she was alive.
“You’re a doctor. An ER surgeon,” he guessed.
“Nope. Strike one.”
He signaled a left turn and exited the highway, pulling through an open gate that led to the small, private airstrip. The plane was already on the small tarmac. He pulled up close to the nose, not stopping until the flagger started waving vigorously, and put the SUV into park.
There was a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hmm, you’re a butcher.”
“Eww.” She mock-shuddered. “Strike two.”
He popped the locks, and she hopped out of the SUV. He exited, too.
She walked around to the front of the vehicle as the crew lowered the airstairs. She wet her lips and found her voice. “Time for one last guess.”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t want to risk striking out with you, Olivia Santos.”
The heat in his eyes belied his light tone and threw her off-balance. Before she could muster a retort, he reached out and brushed her hair behind her ear with a feather-light touch. “I guess you’ll remain a mystery.”
She shivered at the contact. “A mystery wrapped in a riddle, then. Thank you. For everything. The lesson, the lift, taking care of my car … I owe you.”
He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “Maybe someday I’ll collect.”
She could still feel the stir of his breath against her hair when she turned and hurried up the stairs. Her heart pounded, thrumming with excitement, as she mounted the steps, forcing herself not to turn back for a final glimpse of her tall, dark, and handsome driving instructor. She needed to fix Trent Mann and their risky flirtation firmly in her rearview mirror.
Burned (Shenandoah Shadows Novella Book 1) Page 3
