Page 11 of Deadly Misfortunes

“Yeah, and you?”

“Yeah.” She took a deep breath as the water began to fill the car. “Let’s do it.”

She crawled out through the open window as river water poured into the car. Glad Raymond had opened the windows before they couldn’t be, she swam away from the vehicle.

“Raymond?” she called out, her long, flowing skirt tangled around her legs. The corset and bolero were fine, non-encumbering. But the skirt had so many layers that it was making it really difficult to swim.

She didn’t want to lose him now.

“Over here,” Raymond called out to her.

The truck idled on top of the bridge. That wasn’t good. The evil menace lurked in the dark, like a one-eyed monster—its other eye poked out by the limousine in its fight to the death. The driver of the truck likely wanted to see who survived the accident, gloating over his conquest.

The sound of Raymond splashing toward her made her stop and tread water so he could join her, since she was closer to the shore. She figured they needed to stay in the water as long as they could so that whoever it was would have a harder time killing them. She glanced at the bridge and was about to suggest swimming under it. Then the truck barreled down the road away from the scene of the accident.

Sascha let out a sigh of relief.

Raymond touched her arm. “Are you okay?”

She appreciated that he was so concerned about her. “Yeah. Are you sure that you’re okay?”

“I think I have whiplash.”

“Can you make it to shore?”

“Yeah, now that the truck has left.”

Staying close to each other to make sure they didn’t lose one another, they swam to shore. After climbing out of the muddy river, she folded her arms. “Don’t tell me this is the creep who wants Gregory dead.”

She didn’t wait for an answer as Raymond tried to use his cell phone, and she started to walk toward her home.

“Wait up, Miss Lassiter,” he hollered after her. “We have to head in the other direction.”

After all that they had been through, she realized he was still wearing his chauffeur’s cap. Though it was as wet as the rest of him.

“Excuse me, but my home is this way.” She waved her hand in the general direction while she continued to walk, her skirts clinging to her legs, and she tripped twice, to her further annoyance. Her bolero sleeves were glued to her arms. And she was cold even though the Texas nights could be hot in September, October even. But the breeze and being drenched in the cooler water were the trouble.

“If you hadn’t noticed, I’m a little too wet to do any kind of entertaining for the night.” She quickened her pace.

“Ma’am, we’re a lot closer to Mr. Landry’s home. About five miles is all. We could easily make that within the hour, half an hour the way you’re moving along.”

She ignored him. He was sweet and funny, but he definitely had difficulty hearing or comprehending what she was saying.

His wet leather shoes squished as he ran to catch up to her. “My phone’s dead.”

“Figures.”

“Ma’am, we’ve got to go in the other direction.”

“Why didn’t he kill us?”

“What?” Raymond sounded thoroughly confused.

“The guy who ran us off the road. Why didn’t he finish us off?”

“I’m sure that when he realized Mr. Landry wasn’t in the car, he gave up on the impulse.”

“Great.” She reached up, gathered her wet curls together, and wrung them out. A strong wind was blowing, and the air had chilled considerably, typical fall Texas weather. Hot in the daytime; sometimes hot, sometimes chilly at night, especially when soaking wet. Tonight, wouldn’t you know, it decided to be cooler. She stopped, leaned over, and squeezed out her skirt.