Her Galahad. Melissa James

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      He finally lost it. “Tessa, for God’s sake will you look at me? It’s not just you he’s after!” With a lightning movement he had the gun in his hand, jamming the safety into place, checking the barrel for bullets. “Don’t scream—if I was going to shoot you I’d have done it years ago. Now look at me, woman,” he snarled. “He did this to me because of you!”

      Eyes wide with horror gradually unclouded. She seemed to look at him, to take in the blood trickling down his temple, the swollen eye and torn lip, the contorted purpling masses on his arms, chest and thighs through his torn T-shirt and ripped jeans. “If I had a car left I wouldn’t be here. Beller blew up my truck, right in the middle of town. God knows how—I was only gone three minutes. Thank God whatever he used had a faulty timer.”

      Or maybe it didn’t? He frowned. Maybe Beller didn’t want him dead—just disabled. Unable to reach Tessa in time.

      I thought you were dead, she’d said….

      There’s no time to think!

      He handed her back her gun with the bullets still in the barrel, sweating on the hope she’d understand the significance of his act. “Your landlady’s watching us from the back window. How long do you think we’ve got until he charms her into spilling her guts? When he knows what type of car we’re in and which way she saw us go, we’re stuffed until we can get a new car. So can we please get the hell out of here now before he kills both of us?”

      Her eyes searched his for a moment—the strange, unforgettable eyes of amber and gold that still visited his dreams after six years. Then she started the car and screeched away from the house. But she left the loaded gun on her lap—and whether it was to use on him or Beller he didn’t know.

      Right now he didn’t care. He was safer taking his chances with Tessa than an obsessed maniac like Cameron Beller. On a blown-out quiet sigh he said, “Head for the northern highway. We can stay at my place tonight.”

      Her voice filled with disbelief and contempt. “We? You think I’d stay with you? I’ll get you out of town, but that’s it.”

      “We don’t have time for this,” he snapped. “When we’re away from here and safe we can take a stroll down memory lane, throw a few recriminations around. I’ve got a few questions I wouldn’t mind asking myself. But let’s work at keeping alive first!”

      “We’ll talk? About what, David?” Her voice quivered with fury; her hands clenched and unclenched on the steering wheel. “About how you walked out on me? How you disappeared without a word, leaving me to believe you were dead until now?”

      “Keep your eyes on the road. I didn’t escape a car bomb to have you slam me into a pole.” He put out a hand, steadying the steering wheel as the van flashed past farms on the northern edge of town. They hit a straight stretch of open road, flanked by flat brown paddocks and half-rotting fences. He kept an eye on the road behind them, throwing up a fervent prayer for a quick sunset, a sudden autumn storm or miraculous fog; but the sun kept shining and the van could be seen for a mile either way. “And don’t call me David. I go by the name Jirrah now. Jirrah McLaren. David Oliveri no longer exists. And I didn’t lead you to believe anything. I had no idea you thought I was dead.”

      “What do you mean you don’t exist?” Tessa drove one-handed; the other caressed her brow, as if soothing herself. “What did you think I’d believe when you didn’t show up? They said—”

      “If you haven’t worked out by now that your family are lying, cheating sons of bitches, you’re a fool.” He flicked another glance back. “There’s a car coming up behind us. Fast.”

      With a high-pitched gasp she floored the accelerator.

      The car, a dark Ford sedan, sped up until it was right behind them. It weaved toward the other side, came back again, too close behind. Trying to find a way around them.

      He glanced at Tessa. The hand holding the wheel was shaking; her breaths came and went in sharp-edged ragged gasps, her terror so palpable it was hitting him in waves. “Tessa?”

      She fingered the gun in her lap like a talisman. “He said he’d kill me if I left him,” she whispered. “But my God, what he’d do to me first…”

      A sudden horn blast made her hand jerk on the wheel. The van skidded, fishtailing toward the red-mud shoulder of the road.

      “He won’t have to, the way you’re driving—you’ll kill us both.” He grabbed the wheel for the second time. “Hold the bloody wheel straight, with both hands preferably, and ease off the accelerator. You’re spinning the van out. Keep it steady.”

      “He’s right beside us!” she screamed.

      He squinted, trying to see inside the tinted dark glass of the car pulling level with them. “Don’t panic yet. Slow down. Let him pass and see what happens.”

      In a flash she sped up, holding the steering wheel in one shaking fist—and the gun was back in her other hand. “You filthy bastard, was that the plan?” She held the gun on him while trying to right the car. “Gain my trust by returning the gun, get me alone, let him overtake us and hand me over to him? Do you think I trust you any further than I could kick you?”

      “Not any more than I trust you,” was his brutal rejoinder. “And any plans I might have don’t include getting you locked up for killing a half-tanked city cowboy out on a ’roo shoot. My plans didn’t include my truck getting blown up, or your rolling a van at high speed with me in it. If Beller offered a million bucks, it ain’t much use to me if I’m dead.”

      After a moment, she nodded. “Okay. I can accept that.”

      “Then get on the right side of the road. Let the Ford pass us. I don’t think it’s Beller. Your wanna-be classy husband wouldn’t be seen dead in anything less than a Jag or Range Rover,” he said dryly. “We’re almost at the turnoff. If we have to double back on ourselves it gives Beller time to find us.”

      He could almost taste the bile of fear on her tongue, but she nodded again. “Okay.” She slowed down, moving back to the legal side of the road and let off on the accelerator.

      With another horn blast, the Ford roared past them down the empty highway. The van shuddered in its wake.

      Tessa wiped her face with her sleeve. “W-where’s the turnoff?”

      “Left in about two minutes. There’s a back way to Marshall’s Creek. I reckon he’ll be searching the highway for us tonight. He’ll expect us to be together by now.”

      “How long have you been in Lynch Hill?”

      “Just over a week.”

      She flashed a look at him, a look of magnificent fire, and he rocketed back in time to his first sight of her.

      A golden-skinned pagan goddess in cut-off shorts and tank top, her silky dark hair flying around her face like an aura of dangerous magic in the warm wind of a summer’s day, her strange, beautiful eyes devouring him, drinking him in like ambrosia and nectar of the gods.

      A vivid face, full of life—every emotion inside her so easy to read. One look and he was gone. She exploded inside his heart, catching hold of the flying pieces in her loving hands; and in all the years he’d hated her, СКАЧАТЬ