You Betrayed Me (The Cahills #3) - Lisa Jackson Page 0,85
rippled across the water, and the cold air slapped her face. She glanced around, nervous, wondering if her contact was watching her, and not for the first time, she wondered if she’d been lured here for a reason, if this was a trap.
Don’t be silly. You’ve just watched one too many horror movies. Besides, you’re armed. Pepper spray in your pocket, 9-1-1 only one touch on your phone. Don’t let your nerves get to you.
But another low, nearly painful moan from a hidden sea lion caused her skin to prickle. Time to go. Her contact obviously wasn’t going to show.
She picked up her pace, gnawing on the different ideas and motives that nagged at her. Her heels seemed to resonate loudly in the moody mist.
But not just her heels, she realized, her heart nearly stopping.
Hadn’t she heard a second set, almost echoing her own? As if someone were following her? She glanced over her shoulder just as a car rolled slowly behind her, its headlights temporarily blinding her.
Was there a dark figure there, hidden by the intensity of the car’s beams?
Her throat tightened.
A man? Woman?
The driver gunned the engine, and the car, a black sedan, shot past. Charity blinked, but the street behind her was empty. No one visible.
Still, the back of her neck tingled in fear, and adrenaline kicked through her bloodstream. She half-jogged across the street toward the parking garage where she’d left her van. This was crazy. What had she been thinking, agreeing to meet an unknown individual in the middle of the night? Yeah, she had her pepper spray in a front pocket, her phone in her hand, but still . . . She took the stairs, didn’t want to wait for the elevator to the third floor and . . . Oh, sweet Jesus, did she hear the hum of the elevator as the car rose?
Heart thumping, trying not to panic, she flew up the staircase and burst onto the third floor, aware how empty the parking structure was. How stupid was she to have been lured here? She, who’d graduated at the top of her class at Fremont High? She broke into a run. She was sweating now despite the cold night, breathing hard.
Her van was parked just as she’d left it, no longer crowded between a Porsche and an SUV. Now her minivan stood alone, one of a handful of vehicles parked on the aging concrete.
She heard the rumble of the elevator as it ascended.
Her throat went dry.
Her heart pounded.
Frantically, she reached into her pocket and hit the remote to unlock her car and heard the beep as her headlights and taillights flashed.
Almost there!
The elevator stopped on her floor just as she reached the van’s driver’s door.
She slid inside as the doors of the elevator swept open.
Freaked, she jammed her key into the ignition and locked her minivan’s doors in one swift motion.
The engine roared to life just as a man in dark jeans, a camo jacket, and a stocking cap pulled down to his ears strode from the elevator car. He took a look at Charity, who was wheeling out of her spot.
Their eyes met.
Her heart jolted.
A gloved hand slid into his jacket pocket.
For a weapon.
Oh. God. No!
Her insides turned to water.
She rammed the minivan into REVERSE.
With a screech of tires, she backed up, swinging around wildly.
Her assailant suddenly in her headlights, she threw the minivan into DRIVE and hit the gas.
He lifted his arm.
Pointed a gloved hand in her direction.
Oh. Jesus. He was going to shoot her! Right here! Right now!
Her heart leapt to her throat.
No way! No effin’ way!
She wouldn’t let it end this way.
She floored it!
The van shot forward as a nearby Toyota blinked and beeped.
The guy’s mouth fell open in shock.
With a shriek, he jumped backward, dropping his weapon.
No. Not a gun, but a fricking car remote, a small keyless entry device.
Not anything like a pistol.
Nothing dangerous.
She cranked the wheel, the van rocking, narrowly missing the man.
“What the fuck?” he screamed, scrambling away, his face drained of color. “You fucking moron!”
Oh, sweet God, she’d nearly run a guy over, just because her jangled nerves got the better of her.
“Dear Lord,” she whispered, hitting the brakes for a second.
She thought about stopping completely and apologizing and trying to explain, but to what end? In the side-view mirror, she saw him grab for the remote, which had skittered across the stained concrete floor of the garage. Remote in hand, he was now climbing to his feet and looked as if