The Private Serials Box Set(30)

“I was out of place there, too. After college, I tried a few different places; Chicago and New York, I even went south to Texas for a bit. But nothing felt like Portland.” He smiled at me and I grinned back because I agreed. Then his smile was gone as his eyes flashed into the rearview mirror. His lips moved into a line and a few wrinkles appeared on his forehead. “It appears,” he said as he took a sharp right turn I wasn’t expecting, which forced me into his side, “we’re being followed.”

“What?” I nearly shrieked. I turned around, trying to see out the back windshield, but all I saw were headlights. Regular, run-of-the-mill headlights one would normally see if someone were in the lane behind them. “How can you tell they’re following us?”

“Because he’s made the same last five turns as we have.”

“How can you tell it’s a man?” I looked in the side view mirror, still trying to see something that would clue me in to what was happening. I heard him chuckle and my head snapped to look at him.

“I’ve never been tailed by a girl.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, not liking the insinuation that a girl couldn’t properly follow him. I opened my mouth to give him a snarky remark, but was thrust up against the door as he took another turn with too much speed for my liking. I gripped the handle on the door, my heart jumping into my throat. “He’s persistent,” Preston said, still taking frequent glances in the mirrors. “Hold on.”

I didn’t have a chance to ask him what exactly I should hold on to in his tiny sports car before he gunned the gas pedal and tore off down the street in the middle of downtown Portland. It was Friday night in the city and people and cars were everywhere. My feet planted firmly on the floor of the car. One hand pressed against the door and the other hand had found its way to Preston’s bicep.

He wove in and out of traffic, breaking a few laws, I was sure, and managed to avoid hitting any of the pedestrians I alerted him to with my screams. Either he was used to driving with a woman yelling at him in the passenger seat, or he was doing a bang-up job ignoring me. Regardless, my heart rate was through the roof and I was getting tired of being thrust from side to side as he flung his Lotus around corners and through parking lots, all in an effort to lose the person who was following him. Eventually, he managed to get the car turned so it was heading north and I started to relax as we made our way from the area of town full of bars and nightlife, entering the part that was more industrial.

I turned and saw the car was still behind us, even after all that fancy driving, and I looked to Preston.

“He’s still there. What are you going to do?” I‘d never been in a car chase before. In all the movies I’d seen, the car being followed either lost the other car, or it crashed. We hadn’t achieved the former and I hoped to avoid the latter.

“Just hang on tight,” he said again, making my eyes roll. I resumed my hold on the door and his arm.

He pulled into an empty warehouse parking lot, luring the other car into it behind him, then he gunned it, aiming his car for a small alley that ran along the back of the building. Even for such a small car as the Lotus, it was a tight squeeze, and I found myself closing my eyes in fear, my fingers gripping Preston’s arm. Surely, the car following us couldn’t make it through the same alley. I felt the car leave the ground, causing the same feeling in my stomach as when you hit the summit of a roller coaster and then quickly fall. Weightlessness. We were airborne. I let out a strangled cry, but was thrust back into silence when the car jolted back onto the pavement.

My eyes popped open, and I was relieved to see we were, indeed, on the ground and in one piece. I looked to Preston and his eyes were focused as he was driving. I turned quickly to look behind us, but didn’t see the car any longer.

“I think you lost him,” I whispered, the car silent aside from our heavy breaths.

Preston didn’t respond immediately, but when he did, all he said was, “Hold on.” Suddenly, I flew forward and to the side, only to feel Preston’s arm swing out and press me back into my seat. Then we were still for just a second. His hand flew to the gear shift, putting the car in reverse. Preston placed his arm over the back of my seat and looked out the back windshield of the car, lurching backward down yet another alley. I closed my eyes tightly again, fearing we would crash.

Then we were still. The car was off, as were the headlights.

I opened my eyes and felt Preston’s hands on my face, turning it toward him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes roaming over my face, inspecting me.

“Preston,” I breathed. My voice was gone and his name was just air.

“Lena, baby,” he said, pulling me into him, guiding my face into his neck, his arms wrapping around my shoulders. “It’s okay. I’m sorry,” he whispered. I breathed into him, trying really hard not to cry, the adrenaline making my heart race and eyes well with tears.

“I’m o-okay,” I stammered. Then the car lit up and he pulled away from me. Two headlights were beaming right into the car and I was frozen, aside from the trembling, not knowing what was going on. Preston grabbed my face again and looked at me, speaking clearly and quickly.

“I’ll handle this, Lena. Don’t get out of the car, okay?”

I nodded, his hands still on my cheeks. Then he pressed a very quick kiss to my lips and went to open his door. He was halfway out when I heard a man’s voice.