The P.I.

“Try to do what?” She was the one about to panic. She could already feel her stomach jumping.

Kit must have sensed it because he said, “It’s going to be all right. When I open the passenger door, we’ll let Ari hop in first, then you’ll get in and duck low.”

Duck low. She didn’t like the sound of that. “Why do I have to duck?”

“Just a precaution. The streets around the church are all blocked off, so the only way out of here is past that van. I don’t think they’ll try anything this close to those police cars, but…”

Drew didn’t like the sound of the but, either. “The tingling at the back of your neck aside, why are you so sure whoever’s in that van is after me?”

He shot her a grin. “Elementary, my dear Watson. A— because whoever is in it got a good look at you while they were turning back at the church, and they’re hanging around. B—you’ve got twenty-thousand dollars in a leather tote. And C—whatever went down in that church, you were a witness.”

Okay. Three good reasons why she had a perfectly legitimate right to panic. The jumping in her stomach accelerated.

“Maybe I should give myself up to the police.”

“Nah.” Kit continued to urge her toward his car. “You’re not a coward.”

“My stomach is singing a different song.”

“I’ll have to feed you.” He squeezed her hand as they reached the front fender of the car. “Remember the plan?”

She nodded. “Ari, first. Then me and I duck low.”

“Good girl.” He turned her so that she was facing him and brushed his lips over hers. The contact was brief. She might have called it friendly except for the way his fingers tightened on her shoulders and the arrow of heat that shot through her and curled her toes. When he drew away, she felt so cool she nearly shivered.

“Let’s go.”

He opened the door, and she had to hand it to Kit Angelis. The plan went perfectly. Ari leapt into the backseat on cue, and she slid into the passenger seat, ducking her head low.

Seconds later, he got behind the wheel, buckled up, started the car and pulled away from the curb. Then he stopped, put the car in Reverse and began to back up along the street.

“We’re moving past them,” Kit said in a soft voice. Then he braked, changed gears and the car shot forward. “Now we’ll see if my hunch was right.”

She tightened her grip on the seat and reminded herself to breathe as the car accelerated.

“Brace yourself.” Kit pulled the wheel hard and tires squealed as the car careened around a corner.

“What’s happening?” She had to shout to be heard above the roar of the engine.

“Just what I was afraid of,” Kit shouted back. “They’re following us.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.”

8

KIT SAID A PRAYER under his breath as he ignored the Stop sign and shot the car straight through the next intersection. At the end of the street, he twisted the steering wheel and executed a sharp left turn. The car skidded sideways, nearly hitting a parked car before his tires gripped the pavement.

The Fates weren’t working totally on his side yet. But they would. They had to. If he could just put some distance between his car and the van. He was about two blocks ahead of them. Aiming for three, he took the next corner on two wheels and prayed for more horsepower.

“Can I get up yet?” Drew asked.

“In a minute.” Kit checked the rearview mirror and saw the van careen around the corner he’d just taken. “Okay, but get your seat belt on fast. We’re not out of this yet.” Not even close, he thought as he slammed the gas pedal to the floor. The engine roared. The speedometer barely wavered.

“Can’t you get this car to go any faster?” Drew shouted. “I feel like I’m riding in the little engine that couldn’t.”

“Funny,” Kit said, and barely suppressed a grin. “These hills are hell.”

“They don’t seem to be slowing down the van.”

“I noticed.” He caught a glimpse of Drew in his peripheral vision. She had her hands clasped tightly together in her lap, her knuckles white. She was scared to death, but she wasn’t falling apart on him. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.”

“So you said, but it doesn’t seem to be working very well.”

“Ouch.” He wanted to laugh. Later, he would, he promised himself even as he wondered why that dry tone of hers got to him. “Hold on.” The car crested the hill, went airborne for an instant, then slammed back onto terra firma.

“Hot damn! I’ve always wanted to do that,” he shouted, then thanked the Fates when the speedometer finally began to climb. “Wheeeeeeeeeee!”

He was crazy. Why hadn’t she noticed that sooner? Drew turned her gaze to study him because if she kept looking at the road, she was going to hurl up whatever she’d eaten for her last meal.

Last meal? That possibility was all too real—they could crash at any time, and she didn’t even know what she’d eaten. All because she was riding in a car with a lunatic. If she could have dragged her hands away from the dashboard without losing her balance or the contents of her stomach, she might have hit him.

Did that mean she had a violent side? Well, of course she did. She’d shot someone, hadn’t she?

Looking back at the street, Drew saw the traffic light ahead of them change from amber to red. She braced herself, but Kit merely laughed and ran the light.

How could she have missed this maniacal streak in the man? Initially, she’d thought him a dangerous thief. She’d been dead-on about the dangerous part, all right. It was there in his eyes right now as he gave her a quick glance.

But then, she’d bought his “I’m a part-time writer, part-time P.I.” story. True, his explanation had seemed plausible. And he did love his dog. Plus, he was an incredible lover.

“Hold on!” he shouted. Glancing ahead, she had to bite back a scream. This time the light wasn’t amber. It was pure red and they were rocketing toward it. Cars, fully confident that they had the right of way, streamed through the intersection at a fast clip. Even though she shut her eyes, she had a quick image of hitting one of them broadside. Then Kit was dragging the steering wheel to the right.

She was aware that the car almost went into a spin. Horns blasted, brakes shrieked. But the impact she was expecting didn’t come. When she managed to open her eyes again, she saw that Kit had miraculously inserted the car into the right-hand lane of traffic, and they were moving at a much saner pace toward the next intersection.

To her surprise, Kit slowed for the amber and slid to a stop.

She turned to him and narrowed her eyes. “Why the sudden attack of caution?”

He glanced in the rearview mirror. “See the van three cars back?”

She turned and spotted it. “Yes.”

“Eddie Murphy pulled this trick in Beverly Hills Cop. The first one. It’s a classic.”

The light turned green, and Kit didn’t put his foot on the gas. Traffic in the lane to their left began to move through the intersection. Cars trapped directly behind them honked their horns. She even caught some interesting gestures in the sideview mirror.

“What are you doing? There’s a green light.”

“I’m just trying to put a little distance between us and that van. Keep your eye on it.”

Behind, she saw a large vehicle trying to pull out into the left lane, which was moving fairly swiftly now. But there was too much traffic, too many frustrated drivers, and no one was letting them in.

“So far so good,” she said.

The traffic light turned amber. The instant it turned red, Kit pressed the gas pedal to the floor and shot the car through the intersection. They barely missed a collision with a red convertible, but the SUV behind them, sufficiently intimidated by the near miss they’d had with the convertible, stayed right where it was. The van was trapped.

“I’ve always wanted to do that, too,” Kit said. “Eddie Murphy ditched the cops who were tailing him with that trick.”

Even as he spoke, he slammed on the brakes. The traffic ahead had come to a dead stop behind a delivery truck. Horns honked, drivers yelled curses, but no one moved.

“Damn,” he said. “It worked better in the movies.”

Precious seconds ticked away before Kit nosed the car into the other lane. Drew saw the light behind them change.

“The van just came through,” she said.

“Time for an alternate strategy.”

“Alternate strategy? That’s just a fancy name for Plan C, right?”

“Very funny.” She saw the dimples flash. “I like a woman with a sense of humor.”

Gunning the engine, Kit leaned on the horn, then made a left turn right in front of an oncoming car. Drew was almost getting used to the blasting horns and screeching brakes they left in their wake. And she noted that Kit was still grinning like a madman as he threaded his way skillfully in and out of the traffic clogging the narrow street.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah.”

Maybe he wasn’t crazy. Perhaps what she was looking at was a man giving free rein to his inner child. They were getting closer to the wharfs. She could see the Golden Gate Bridge illuminated in the distance, and traffic was slowing them down. The good news was that there was less chance of dying in a ten-car pileup. The bad news was that she thought she could see the van about a block behind them.