âYou just havenât found the right woman yet. That isâif you want to look for her.â
There were questions in Rippâs eyes; soft needy questions that couldnât be answered entirely with words. Her racing heart screeched almost to a halt as his head slowly dipped towards hers.
âI am looking for her, Lucita,â he murmured. âIâm looking right now.â
Sensing what was coming, she tried to speak his name, warn him in some way that what he was about to do was fruitless. But nothing would pass her lips.
She could duck her head or jump to her feet and run like a scared rabbit. But those fleeting thoughts didnât stand a chance against the delicious anticipation zipping through her veins. And instead of resisting, something deep within had her leaning towards him, tilting her head so that her lips were totally available to hisâ¦
Was the driver crazy? At this rate he was going to hit her!
The headlights in Lucita Sanchezâs rearview mirror were growing closer and closer, blinding her view of the secluded black highway in front of her.
Fear rifled through her, shooting adrenaline to every nerve in her body. Her knuckles in a white grip on the steering wheel, she pressed on the carâs accelerator, hoping to pull away from the approaching vehicle.
Was the driver deliberately trying to ram into her? Maybe the driver couldnât see her?
Donât try to kid yourself, Lucita. Someone has been tailing you for weeks now. Long before you moved back to the Sandbur.
The broken white lines in the middle of the highway became one long blur as the speedometer crept toward ninety, then ninety-five. Behind her, the vehicle didnât appear to be relenting. Instead, the headlights seemed to be inching closer and closer to her back bumper.
Her mind was snatching for ways to escape when a jolt from behind lurched her forward in the seat and threatened to wrench the steering wheel from her grip.
The driver was ramming into her car! Someone was trying to kill her!
Dear God, what could she do? Obviously she couldnât outrun the other car. Even at this speed she was in dire danger of crashing. If she tried to pull over and stop, what would the driver do then? Stop and confront her?
She was frantically weighing the consequences of both choices when a black blob suddenly appeared directly in front of her on the highway.
Screaming, Lucita stomped on the brakes to avoid the animal. Her car instantly skidded sideways. Lights flashed as the vehicle spun round and round, end to end. The whipping momentum shot the car across the grassy right-of-way where it smashed through a fence, then crashed straight into an electric pole.
The violent jolt released the air bag and the safety device exploded in her face, the force snapping Lucitaâs head sideways against the window. She felt a stinging blow, and then she felt nothing at all.
Sometime later, she wasnât sure how long, awareness slowly returned to Lucita. Dazed, she struggled to push herself upright. The air bag had deflated and the nylon fabric was now draped uselessly against the steering wheel. Some sort of white powder was all over her. Apparently the stuff had exploded with the eruption of the air bag.
In front of her, steam was pouring from the crumpled hood and raining down on the cracked windshield. Incredibly, the headlights were still burning, shining a wide swath of light into someoneâs pasture and illuminating several bulls grazing among a stand of tall mesquite trees.
Where was she? And what had happened?
Shoving strands of light brown hair off her face, she peered out the back windshield. More than fifty yards away, the highway was black and eerily quiet. Apparently no vehicles had passed since sheâd rammed into the electric pole, or if anyone had driven by, theyâd not stopped to help.
And what about the menacing vehicle that had been behind her? Whoever had been driving had obviously not stopped to offer her a helping hand when theyâd witnessed her crash, which only proved the person had been out to do her harm.
With hands shaking violently, she felt along the left side of the dash and managed to turn off the headlights. The idiot whoâd rammed into her just might decide to return and she didnât want the headlights of her disabled car to be shouting, here I am.