Part 24 (2/2)

”I said stop the car,” I demand. As soon as the forceful words leave my mouth I know they're a mistake.

Tension fills the air between us as the guy slams on the brakes. Luckily Rayne's place is a fair distance outside of Scottsdale and he owns a lot of land so there's no one else on the road.

When he turns to confront me the guy's face is like stone. ”Don't ever yell at me again.”

I want to tell him there's no way in h.e.l.l I ever plan on seeing him again, but I refrain. I just want to get out of the car without getting hit.

His fists are balled and his arms are so rigid they're shaking.

My heart is beating so fast I feel like I could pa.s.s out at any moment. As nice as his brand new Mercedes is I just want to get out of his car.

”I'm sorry,” I tell him, even though I'm not. I just don't want to push him over the edge.

Luckily my apology seems to calm him down a bit.

Then he smiles. One of his big, politician grins. The guy is like Jekyll and Hyde. ”I want to see you again.”

By see he means f.u.c.k, but I'm not going to correct him. I'm going to be the good girl he seems to want me to be until I'm safely out of his car.

”Okay,” I lie.

”Give me your number.”

I'm tempted to lie and give him a wrong number, but something tells me not to. So I give him my cellphone number.

He immediately pulls his phone out of his s.h.i.+rt pocket and dials the number I gave him. We both hear my cell ringing in my purse.

”Good girl,” he says.

When I reach for the pa.s.senger side door handle I notice it's locked. And there's no way to unlock it.

”Custom design,” he says. ”I'm the only one who can unlock any of the car doors.”

That could be one of the creepiest things I've heard in a while and I've been on the road with a rock band for over a decade. That's like something from a serial killer movie.

”Can I go?” I ask with as much calmness as I can muster.

He nods. ”If you're nice to me.”

I gulp. I'm afraid to ask what being nice entails. I have a sinking feeling it could have something to do with my mouth and his d.i.c.k. My only saving grace could be that he told me he had to make it to an appointment.

I wait for what seems like an eternity for him to tell me what I have to do to be set free from his car.

Then he just points to his cheek. I'd like to punch him right in his perfect politician face, but I lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek instead.

”That's my girl.”

The thought of being his girl makes me want to heave, but I try to keep it together long enough to get out of the car.

When he finally unlocks my door I practically jump out of the Mercedes. I cringe when I hear the arrogant son of a b.i.t.c.h actually laughing at me. As soon as I slam the car door shut he screeches away leaving me in his dust.

I take in a deep breath and try to clear him from my thoughts. All I want is to get in the shower and wash his smug stench off of me.

As I start the trek up Rayne and Harper's long driveway my phone buzzes. I've got a text.

Darrow Thompson: See you soon, Suns.h.i.+ne.

Is that some kind of a joke? No one would ever mistake me for having a sunny disposition. I'm about as dark as they come. Everything about me is dark.

Maybe the a.s.shole is trying to be ironic.

At least now I know his name.

About the Author.

SIERRA AVALON writes contemporary romance novels with a little sa.s.s and lots of spice. She lives in a small town outside of Phoenix, Arizona with her husband and their bloodhounds.

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