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Chapter 5
Excerpt
Car-race scene
Whats wrong, Christian?
Just look where youre going, baby, he says softly.
Im heading for the on-ramp of the 520 in the direction of Seattle. When I glance at
Christian, hes staring straight ahead.
I dont want you to panic, he says calmly. But as soon as were on the 520 proper, I
want you to step on the gas. Were being followed.
Followed! Holy shit. My heart lurches into my mouth, pounding, my scalp prickles and
my throat constricts with panic. Followed by whom? My eyes dart to the rearview mirror and,
sure enough, the dark car I saw earlier is still behind us. Fuck! Is that it? I squint through the
tinted windshield to see whos driving, but I see nothing.
Keep your eyes on the road, baby, Christian says gently, not in the truculent tone he
normally uses where my driving is concerned.
Get a grip! I mentally slap myself to subdue the dread thats threatening to
swamp me. Suppose whoevers following us is armed? Armed and after Christian!
Shit! Im hit by a wave of nausea.
How do we know were being followed? My voice is a breathy, squeaky,
whisper.
The Dodge behind us has false license plates.
How does he know that?
I signal as we approach the 520 from the on-ramp. Its late afternoon, and although the
rain has stopped, the roadway is wet. Fortunately, the traffic is reasonably light.
Rays voice echoes in my head from one of his many self-defense lectures. Its the panic
thats gonna kill you or get you seriously hurt, Annie. I take a deep breath, trying to bring my
breathing under control. Whoever is following us is after Christian. As I take another deep
steadying breath, my mind begins to clear and my stomach settles. I have to keep Christian safe.
I wanted to drive this car, and I wanted to drive it fast. Well, heres 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 Christians 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 both into the backs of our seats.
The speedometer whips up to seventy-five miles per hour.
Steady, baby, Christian says calmly, though Im sure hes anything but calm.
I weave between the two lines of traffic like a black counter in a game of checkers,
effectively jumping the cars and trucks. Were so close to the lake on this bridge, its as if were
driving on the water. I studiously ignore the angry, disapproving looks from other drivers.
Christian clutches his hands together in his lap, keeping as still as possible, and in spite of my
fevered thoughts, I wonder vaguely if hes doing it so he doesnt distract me.
Good girl, he breathes in encouragement. He glances behind him. I cant see the
Dodge.
Were right behind the unsub, Mr. Grey. Sawyers voice comes through the hands-free.
Hes trying to catch up with you, sir. Were going to try and come alongside, put ourselves
between your car and the Dodge.
Unsub? What does that mean?
Good. Mrs. Grey is doing well. At this rate, provided the traffic remains lightand from
what I can see it iswell be off the bridge in a few minutes.
Sir.
We flash past the bridge control tower, and I know were half way across Lake
Washington. When I check my speed, Im still doing seventy-five.
Youre doing really well, Ana, Christian murmurs again as he gazes out the back of the
R8. For a fleeting moment, his tone reminds me of our first encounter in his playroom when he
patiently encouraged me through our first scene. The thought is distracting, and I dismiss it
immediately.
Where am I headed? I ask, moderately calmer. I have the feel of the car now. Its a joy
to drive, so quiet and easy to handle its hard to believe how fast we are going. Driving at this
speed in this car is easy.
Mrs. Grey, head for I-5 and then south. We want to see if the Dodge follows you all the
way, Sawyer says over the hands-free. The traffic lights on the bridge are greenthank heavens
and I race onward.
I glance nervously at Christian, and he smiles reassuringly. Then his face falls.
Shit! he swears softly.
There is a line of traffic ahead as we come off the bridge, and I have to slow. Glancing
anxiously in the mirror once more, I think I spot the Dodge.
Ten or so cars back?
Yeah, I see it, Christian says, peering through the narrow rear window. I wonder who
the fuck it is?
Me too. Do we know if its a man driving? I blurt out toward the cradled BlackBerry.
No, Mrs. Grey. Could be a man or woman. The tint is too dark.
A woman? Christian says.
I shrug. Your Mrs. Robinson? I suggest, not taking my eyes off the road.
Christian stiffens and lifts the BlackBerry out of its cradle. Shes not my Mrs.
Robinson, he growls. I havent spoken to her since my birthday. And Elena wouldnt do this.
Its not her style.
Leila?
Shes in Connecticut with her parents. I told you.
Are you sure?
He pauses. No. But if shed absconded, Im sure her folks would have let Flynn know.
Lets discuss this when were home. Concentrate on what youre doing.
But it might just be some random car.
Im not taking any risks. Not where youre concerned, he snaps. He replaces the
BlackBerry in its cradle so were back in contact with our security team.
Oh shit. I dont want to rattle Christian right now . . . later maybe. I hold my tongue.
Fortunately, the traffic is thinning a little. I am able to speed over the Mountlake intersection
toward the I-5, weaving through the cars again.
What if we get stopped by the cops? I ask.
That would be a good thing.