Quick Study - By Gretchen Galway Page 0,20

sexy as hell in a skirt that whipped up above her knees in the wind. He began to get out of the car, but then a guy appeared right behind her and matched his steps with hers. Jealous rage held carefully at bay, Paul got back into his car and told himself she would never forgive him for screwing up her research project. Coming off like a possessive boyfriend might scare her away for good.

Boyfriend. He wanted that. To have a name for himself, with her. Not just “that guy who fucked your brains out and can’t stop thinking about you.”

Damn, she was still with the other guy. Some preppy, sporty type, probably a guy from the university. Fiddling with the ignition, Paul realized he’d been imagining running the guy over with his Prius. Homicidal hybrid.

Suddenly, Bonnie had her phone out and took a picture of the guy. He laughed and made a face. Then Bonnie laughed back at him and had the phone to her ear, making a call. The guy stopped laughing, then lifted his hand to wave goodbye.

Bonnie stood on the sidewalk, watching him, and Paul fought a wave of jealousy. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

Finally, when the guy was on the other side of the parking lot getting into a black F-250, Bonnie walked towards her own car, the red Bug he remembered, several aisles in the opposite direction.

Should he go to her now? Or would that look weird, like he was crashing her date?

Before he could decide what to do, the huge black pickup roared past him and parked immediately behind the red Bug, trapping the little car in its parking spot. Paul frowned, unable to see Bonnie clearly in the dark. She stopped walking, her back to Paul, and took out her phone again.

Paul got out of his car. He didn’t know if she’d think he was a creep or not, he was just acting on instinct. But he was several rows away. All of a sudden that seemed miles too far.

The preppy guy got out of his pickup, walked around to the back, and leaned against the tailgate, arms crossed, the glare of the streetlight catching the white of his teeth as he grinned at her.

Still unsure if this was just a friendly joke between Bonnie and her friend, Paul began to walk towards them through the parked cars. A sedan pulled out in front of him, stalling him, and as he was forced to wait he realized his heart was racing.

Bonnie had begun to move towards her car again, stopping when she was only a few feet away from the preppy guy and his pickup. The asshole had left the engine running, and it rumbled behind him, overlarge and menacing.

Paul started jogging. But he was still fifty yards away when the man lurched forward and grabbed Bonnie’s arm, then pulled her up to his chest and put his other hand on her face.

Adrenaline flooded Paul’s veins and he broke into a sprint.

Chapter 6

While Paul was cursing himself for being too slow, the man suddenly howled, clutched his groin, and fell out of Paul’s view. Only Bonnie’s curly round head, bobbing back and forth like a soccer player kicking a ball, was visible over the parked cars between them, and then she bent over and disappeared.

Just as Paul passed through the last row of parked cars, he watched in shock as Bonnie climbed up into the lifted pickup and slammed the engine into reverse.

The man screamed.

“Heads up!” Bonnie cried, and backed up over the panicked, writhing man who flattened himself between the wheels, safe from being crushed, but now prostrate under his own truck.

Bonnie revved the engine, then got out, slammed the door, and strode to her VW just as Paul reached her.

“Bonnie!” he yelled out. “Are you OK?”

Eyes wild, she turned to him. For a second, he didn’t think she recognized him, but then she shook her head, nodded, waved goodbye and got into her car. He could see her hands shake as she started the engine.

“Wait—” But she hit the engine and roared into reverse, not looking at him, then ground the gears moving it back into first and screeching away.

“Crazy bitch!” The man cried from the ground. He crawled out from under his truck, disheveled and streaked with dirt, and staggered to his feet. “Did you see that? I should fucking press charges!”

Just then a police car pulled into the parking lot, flood light searching the rows.