Page 9 of Zane

“Yo!”

“Go inside and grab a coolant, will you?”

“Yo.”

“I’ll just tighten the cap. I’m going to pour some coolant in and that should keep you until you reach—” He had come back around to lean in at her window. He smelled of expensive tobacco and a whiff of cologne. And there was also a tattoo on his bulging left arm. “How far are you going?”

“Er—” She cleared her throat and forced herself to remain calm. “Another thirty minutes.”

“I suggest you get it checked out in the morning. What the hell are you doing out here anyway?”

She had to clear her throat twice. “Road work.”

“That would do it.” Easing off, he nodded as the man he had called ‘Red’ handed him the bottle of coolant.

Kara sat there waiting while he did what he could to the engine and slammed down the hood. Tossing the empty bottle into a nearby trash can, he came back around. This time, he hunkered down so he could see inside better. “All done. Give it a few minutes and then try starting it again.” His tawny eyes wandered over her face. “The name is Zane.”

“Kara. And I cannot thank you enough.”

He inclined his head, the hair sweeping his shoulders. “My pleasure.” His eyes lit on the briefcase on the passenger seat and the law books spilling out. “Lawyer?”

“What?” She swiveled around to see what had caught his attention.

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” An amused smile touched his lips. “Mind if I have one of your cards?”

“Cards?” She wanted to ask him what for, but her innate sense of politeness had her reaching into her briefcase for her cardholder. And besides, the man had come to her rescue and saved her from certain assault and possibly roadkill. She owed him.

“Here you go, Mr.—”

“Just Zane,” he murmured, taking the card and studying it. “Assistant district attorney. Impressive.”

“Thank you. I should—” She edged towards the start button and gave him an enquiring look.

“Go right ahead.”

When she pushed the button and heard the engine roar to life, relief swamped her.

“I cannot thank you enough,” she told him sincerely.

“I’ll think of something.” He pushed away from the vehicle, sliding her card into the pocket of his faded denims. “Drive safe.”

He stood watching until the taillights had disappeared, a thoughtful expression on his face. The package was prim and proper and should not have interested him one bit, but the face, Christ! The face told a different story altogether. A bloody lawyer at that, and one that had fired a response in him that he had never felt before. The irony didn’t escape him.

*****

She made it home and parked at the base of the porch steps and had to sit there for a little bit to shake off the nerves.

She was still shaking when she alighted and went inside. Putting away her things, she marched straight into the kitchen and poured herself a hefty glass of wine. She was going to drink it all and take two painkillers for the low-grade headache brewing at her temple.

After swallowing the pills, she kicked off her shoes and went out to sit on the porch swing. The scare was over and she was still alive and not lying in her car or on the side of the road or even in the abandoned warehouse, raped — with her throat slit. She was home — sitting on her porch and enjoying a glass of wine.

A biker had helped her — a gorgeous biker with yards of raven black hair and intense golden eyes — a biker with tattoos who for some reason had looked vaguely familiar and seemed out of place because of his deep, cultured voice and mannerisms. He had saved her. She was sure of it. Certain that if he hadn’t intervened, those two seedy-looking characters would have assaulted her. Taking a fortifying sip of her wine, she closed her eyes briefly. But she was home and she was going to concentrate on that. She was safe and had gotten through the experience unscathed, except for the nerves still dancing up and down her spine.

*****

Zane wasn’t having a good night. After she had left, he had gone through the motions of the pleasures he usually enjoyed — shooting pool, exchanging dirty jokes, and talking legal strategies with Big Thunder. But his heart had not been in the various activities. He had shoved off after pleading that he was tired.