Page 84 of Destroyed With You

His eyes crinkle at the corner, and I think his mouth curves into the slightest smile. “No story,” he says. “She was just one of my friends in junior high.”

I look at Winston to see if he’s buying that, but unlike me and Emma, he doesn’t seem interested.

I shrug, then lead everyone to the living room.

All in all, we spend a solid three hours laughing and talking. And while I hadn’t been thinking about it consciously, I know now that I won’t be joining the SOC. I like Seagrave just fine, but I want to work with these new friends. And, of course, with Winston.

“That was nice,” Winston says as we stand on the driveway a half hour later. With the breeze, it’s actually chilly, and since I have no coat of my own, I’m back in Winston’s suit coat, which pairs well with my jeans. Tomorrow is definitely a shopping day.

Emma is long gone, having hurried away the moment Tony texted that he was home. Renly has just left, and I can still hear the roar of his Ducati in the distance.

“I’m going to run down to the corner and get some more juice,” Winston says. “Come with?”

I shake my head. “Nope. I’m going to take a walk to the end of the block to check out the view. Then I’m going inside, getting undressed, and waiting for you in bed with a half-filled glass of champagne. To which you can add juice when you return.”

His forehead crinkles. “Add juice,” he repeats. “Is that a euphemism?”

“You have a dirty mind,” I say primly as he slides into the driver’s seat. “I love that about you.” I bend to give him a quick kiss, then walk down the driveway to the street. I give him one last wave, then put my headphones in and turn on some music. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to just walk and listen, and I—

Ka-boom!

I jump, turn around, and my scream sticks in my throat. Old Blue is alight with flames. A car bomb.

Winston was in the car.

Oh, dear God, no. Please, please, no!

I try to run, but it’s as if my legs are spaghetti, and I sink to the asphalt. A van stops behind me, and I turn around, intending to beg them for help.

Instead, I scream.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Winston sat in the cab of Old Blue, and watched as Linda walked down the road, looking sexy as hell in his jacket. He smiled to himself, not quite able to believe that she was truly his again. He started to pull the car door shut, thinking that he would pick up flowers along with the orange juice, then remembered that he left his damn wallet on the table by the front door.

Well, hell.

He gave the driver’s side door a gentle shove with his foot, then stepped down. His eyes were still on Linda, and that was a mistake, because he lost his balance, and ended up windmilling his arms like an idiot as he stumbled forward and away from the truck, trying to right himself.

He didn’t make it.

Instead, he was suddenly, strangely airborne. He landed hard on the grass, the world having exploded around him. His body ached from the impact of his fall, and his ears rang. The smell of fuel and burning metal filled his senses.

This was more than a fall.

His mind was slow. Groggy. And nothing around him seemed to be the right color. It was all grey and, oh, man, the ringing in his ears. It was...

Explosion!

Oh, God, it really was an explosion.

Finally, in a rush, rational thought returned to him, and he shoved himself up onto his knees, looking around frantically. She was there, on the street, screaming his name as two men grabbed her by the elbows and hauled her to her feet before tossing her into the back of a black van and tearing off down the street.

No. No, goddammit, no.

He didn’t remember running, but he was on the street now, the sound of sirens swirling around him. But not for her—they were for the fire. He had to get to her. He was her only chance.

And Old Blue was a burning husk.