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“You damn well won’t,” I whispered as I sank heavily into the backseat.
“You can’t stay here,” he argued. “I need to get some disinfectant for your neck.”
“It’s a scratch.”
“It needs cleaning. Plus, you’re shaking. You need some coffee and a sandwich.”
“Then go and get me one from the whore who fucked my husband,” I snarled.
Leaning one arm on the door, he loomed over me. “If you expect me to believe that you took your meds, Lena, you have another thing coming.”
As he slammed my door closed, it was only then that I saw how late it was getting.
Aidan would wonder where I was, much as he’d wondered the past week. But he could carry on fretting. He could speak with Michael. I had nothing to say to that bastard. Nothing whatsoever.
I didn’t try to stop him as he crossed the street, heading into that slut’s tearoom to buy me something to eat. Something I would never let cross my lips.
Tossing the handkerchief aside, I saw the door open a few minutes after Michael went in, and Michelle Keegan, the whore herself, walked out.
Transfixed, I watched as she started to stroll down the sidewalk, well aware that she’d take the same route as she usually did. A route Michael had followed every day since I’d started this little stake out.
When she began moving out of my line of sight, agitated, I climbed out of the backseat then dropped behind the wheel. I had to adjust the seat, and it took up valuable seconds, but I managed to get the engine started a minute later.
As I pulled out, a Ford truck beeped at me as I almost crashed into it, but I barely saw it as I raced down the street, trying to catch up with her.
When I found her again, I kept my eyes on her, not even taking any notice of the traffic. As the car jolted when my tires clipped the curb, I jerked back into the middle of my lane.
Frowning, I stared at the road ahead before I glanced back to find her again.
Only, she wasn’t there.
Eyes darting all over in an effort to find her, I carried on driving.
When I saw the pedestrian crossing, it was too late.
I clipped her.
I felt the car knock her down, felt the bump as the wheels rode over some part of her body.
The brakes squealed as I came to a halt.
New York City was never quiet.
Ever.
There were always people around.
Always.
But at that moment, it felt like God was on my side because there was no one here.
No one.
Until I heard thudding footsteps.
A quick glance in the side mirror let me see Michael running toward me. He took the scene in, jumped into the passenger side and screamed, “DRIVE!”
I should have immediately obeyed, but I didn’t.
