“It’s probably the only way to ensure I’ll get fed within the next several hours,” she added dryly.
“Yeah, it is,” Jake admitted, mouth spreading wide in an unapologetic smile. He then shrugged. “Sorry. Can’t seem to help myself. Every time I touch, smell, or—hell, just look at you—I want to do things that would make a prostitute blush.”
Nicole was trying to sort out what those things might be when he asked, “Is there anywhere special you want to go?”
Nicole immediately named a restaurant that she knew had good food, low lighting . . . and booths.
“Okay,” Jake turned down the next road to head for Highway 417 and take it across town.
They’d shopped at Bayshore Shopping Centre, a good twenty-minute drive from the restaurant. The drive would give her time to plot her attack. Nicole intended to use the low lighting and privacy of the restaurant booth to drive the man wild, in public, where he couldn’t do a thing about it. She suspected it would mean she’d find out what it was like to have sex in the backseat of a car on a dark country road on the way home. But heck, that was an experience she’d missed as a teenager, and new experiences were a good thing. Right?
They’d only been on the highway for a couple of minutes when Nicole was distracted from her plotting by a low curse from Jake. She glanced curiously toward him and then had to grab the overhead grip to steady herself as he suddenly swerved sharply into the outside lane to avoid rear-ending the car in front of them.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, noting the frown on his face.
“The brakes aren’t working,” Jake said through his teeth, hands tightening on the steering wheel.
“Are you sure?” Nicole asked, and then realized how stupid that sounded. Of course, he must be sure. It wasn’t like he could be wrong about something like that. Besides, one glance down showed her that he was pumping his foot on the brake, but they weren’t slowing at all.
“Yes, honey, I’m sure,” he said grimly.
“Sorry, it was a stupid question,” she muttered, glancing toward the road ahead. It was clear for a bit, but she could see rear lights in all three lanes about a half mile ahead. “I had the car in for its winterization last week. They checked everything then, including the brakes, and said it was fine.”
“Yeah, well they aren’t fine now,” Jake said quietly. “Worse yet, I’ve had my foot off the gas pedal for a full minute now and we aren’t slowing down.”
“Oh, that really isn’t good,” Nicole said faintly, her eyes shifting back to the road ahead again.
Jake didn’t comment. His full attention was apparently on driving . . . or perhaps he was trying to decide what he could do. Sensing movement beside her, she glanced over just in time to see him try the emergency brakes. Nicole instinctively braced herself for an abrupt halt, but nothing happened. Jake didn’t look terribly surprised. In fact, he seemed incredibly calm, if extremely grim. Meanwhile, she was having a major panic attack inside.
“What are we going to do?” she asked nervously.
“Downshift,” Jake answered, and did just that before hitting the hazard lights.
Nicole bit her lip and glanced out the front window again. They were coming up on the cars quickly and it didn’t seem to her that downshifting had worked. Her head swiveled to the window beside her when it started to roll down.
“Wind resistance,” Jake shouted over the sudden roar of air rushing into the SUV. “It might help a little.”
Nicole nodded, noting that he’d opened all the windows . . . and it was damned cold. But better cold than crashed she supposed, doing up her coat. This really hadn’t been the best time to wear a skirt, she decided, regretting changing out of her jeans at the mall.
“I’m going to use the center barrier to try to slow us down,” Jake yelled.
Nicole nodded, but didn’t bother trying to talk over the wind. Nothing seemed to be working yet. At least, it didn’t appear to her that they’d slowed any, but she kept that opinion to herself and let him do what he had to do. Nicole was extremely grateful that Jake was driving though. She’d have tried the emergency brakes, but wouldn’t have thought of downshifting, or windows . . . or scraping the car up against the center barrier to try to slow the vehicle. She added that last thought as the tires hit the bottom of the pear-shaped barrier. Nicole had expected the driver’s side door to scrape along the concrete, but it was just the tires . . . for now.
She started to bite her lip, and then quickly stopped doing that, afraid that if they crashed, she’d bite it off. Instead, she tightened her hold on the overhead grip and grabbed for the car seat with her other hand and waited.
Nicole was sure what followed only took seconds or a minute or two at the most, but it seemed much longer to her. In fact, the wait seemed interminable, and then they were mere feet behind the three lanes of cars with nowhere to go.
Jake tried hitting the horn repeatedly, but the car in front of them had nowhere to go. There were cars in front of and beside it as well. When the driver of the car beside them apparently saw what was happening and hit the brakes, slowing out of the way and forcing those behind him to do so as well, Jake took a chance and swerved into the middle lane, honking the horn the whole way. Much to Nicole’s relief the car in the next lane did the same as the center car had done and slowed quickly.
With a choice between hitting the car in front or veering to the side, Jake was moving into the lane before the car was even fully out of the way. They made it, but barely, and were now in danger of hitting the car in front of them in that lane.
Nicole was panting like a woman in labor as they slid into the opening. If Jake had been a lesser driver, they never would have made it. There was literally a finger’s width between them and the car behind them. But they did make it. However, even as he slid fully into the lane, Jake warned, “Hang on,” and continued steering to the side, sending the car off the highway altogether.
Nicole held on. She also closed her eyes and began to pray so never saw exactly what happened. She felt it though. The vehicle swerved back toward the highway as if Jake was trying to avoid something and, caught by surprise, Nicole slammed into the side window, her temple bouncing off of it just seconds before they crashed into something. The air bags exploded and the vehicle began to roll even as Nicole lost her hold on consciousness.
Jake tore the empty blood bag from his mouth, and struggled to sit up. “I’m going in.”
“No,” Tomasso boomed, and forced him back to the van floor with one hand on his shoulder. “You’re not ready. Two more bags of blood and fifteen minutes and then you should be okay to go into the hospital.”