Page 1 of No Lies No Promises

Chapter 1

Sean Clark

With my left hand on the wheel of the red Ferrari Portofino, and my right resting on my woman’s upper thigh, I let out a sigh. Best damn vacation ever.

My eyes flick off the road to catch Lillian’s stare. After six months, her seductive smile shouldn’t slay me. Even so, every goddamn time, my cock stirs.

Her fingertips walk up my leg, stopping at the painful bulge behind my fly. “What’s going on here?”

Chuckling, my beast raring to go, I shake my head. “You’re the one who insisted on driving home. I was willing to stay over.”

“And what? Call in sick? We promised to report back tomorrow.”

It’s a boner-killer, but she’s right. We need to find her father, send him to jail, and not get killed in the process.

Her tongue flicks over her lower lip as she unsnaps my top button. “I guess we could stop along the way… find a motel. Drive the rest in the morning.”

“Agreed… See what we did there?” My tanned hand dwarfs hers as I place mine on top. Softer, all female, it reminds me of everything I want in my life. “We compromised like an old married couple. Nothing to this relationship stuff. We should make it official.”

“Maybe… we’ll see.”

“Sweetheart, we’ve talked about this. I’m not going anywhere.” My stupid chest tightens at her far-off tone. Whatever is holding her back, I intend to erase it.

While my thoughts wander, she mutters into her phone, then holds it out. “There’s a motel about a mile down the road.”

Fast-approaching bright lights in the rearview mirror cut off my deliciously dirty retort. Foot on the clutch, my heart races as I change gears. “Shit. Brace.”

Pedal to the floor, all cylinders roaring, the dash gauges peg. Before our sports car can accelerate, a Ford F-150 pickup slams into our backside.

“What the fuck?” Lillian swivels in her seat as we fishtail on the slick road. “Was that on purpose?”

“Not sure.” Maneuvering the curves, we roar forward on the dark road. “Where’s the first turn?”

Eyes huge, face lit blue by her phone screen, Lil points out the front window. “Half mile. Sharp right.”

A glimpse of an angry young woman gripping her wheel flashes in my rearview mirror as our tail passes a lone streetlamp. What the hell is wrong with her?

Lightning streaks across the sky. Seconds later, we jump at the sudden clap of thunder. With the distance between us increasing, the few splashes of rain morph into a blinding downpour.

I flip the wipers to max.

Matching the beat of the blades, Lillian pokes the windshield. “There, turn now!”

“Hang on, sweetheart.” Jaw clenched, bent forward, I lift my foot off the gas and downshift.

Cranking the wheel, I barely miss a thick, ancient oak. As I swerve back onto the road, metal crunches with a tremendous bang behind us.

Fuck. The nutcase overshot the corner.

A quick K-turn later, facing the opposite direction, my headlamps expose the accident. The F-150 hit the tree, crumpling the whole front end.

Swallowing back anger, I regroup. Perhaps the young woman suffered some kind of mental breakdown. Regardless, she tried to run us off the road.

Glove compartment open, Lillian must agree because she hands me my Sig, followed by my Maglite. “Be careful.”

Ammo check complete, I click off the pistol’s safety. “Stay put. Call 911.”

A nod from Lillian, and I climb out into the frigid rain. Creeping forward, my left hand holds the flashlight while bracing the gun in my right.