Chapter 29
S amara
At just after two am, Lake Shore Drive was practically deserted.
I looked in my rearview mirror to see the lit up Chicago skyline behind me and the crashing surf of Lake Michigan to my right. As I did so, my chaotic thoughts switched to Gregor, despite my best efforts to avoid thinking of him.
I stared at my grip on the black leather steering wheel where the diamond and emerald engagement ring glinted accusingly on my finger. In my haste, I had forgotten to take it and the diamond collar he had clasped around my throat off.
Had he noticed my absence yet?
My inner thighs tightened at the thought of what kind of punishment Gregor would have devised if he had caught me sneaking out of his house.
His punishments tended to be very creative, fucking with both my mind and body.
I knew why he did it; he liked to be in control. He was like those men who revel in the challenge of taming a wild creature.
The task master.
The disciplinarian.
The protector.
What I still couldn’t grasp is why I liked it. True, there was something intoxicating about a powerful man stepping up and taking everything off my shoulders. It was frightening to think how the idea of his protection made me feel safe and not as alone.
It wasn’t just frightening.
It was dangerous.
And I had almost fallen for it.
I had almost fallen for him .
Fallen for the way his sexy, gravelly voice quoted Dracula and Shakespeare.
For the way he talked about Impressionist art as if he loved it almost as much as I did.
For the way his eyes seemed to devour me whenever we were together.
For the intense way he focused on me and my needs…
even the kinky needs I didn’t know I had. For the powerful way he took control.
I actually almost said yes to marrying him. Yes to it all.
I would have been trapped in a loveless marriage like my parents.
Caught up in his world of violence, blood, and destruction... completely under his control.
I still couldn’t get the image of Gregor covered in that man’s blood out of my mind.
I was lost in my thoughts when I noticed a car approaching at a very high rate of speed. Probably a drunk driver. At this time of night, I needed to be careful, since the main people on the road were drunks and cops. As a precaution, I switched to the right lane to give the car a little extra room.
At a glance, I could see it was a black Range Rover, but the windows were tinted so I couldn’t get a look at the driver. In my rearview mirror, I watched as the SUV passed a slower moving car. It was now barreling toward me.
Like a high-stakes game of chess, in an instant I analyzed the possibilities.
One, it was a drunk fucking around, and I was letting my nerves get the best of me.
Two, it was Gregor.
The SUV quickly gained ground.
I held my breath, allowing it to get closer and closer. waiting till I could get a view of the license plate. I didn’t remember all the details from Gregor’s Range Rover, but I remembered it started with an A3 and a… Fuck!
I slammed my foot on the gas.
The Audi surged forward.
It was Gregor.
Keeping a firm grip on the steering wheel, I maneuvered the different curves and bends as the road followed the Lake Michigan shoreline.
I had no plan. My only thought was escape.
The Range Rover picked up speed.
I swerved around a slower moving car and increased my speed. Hazarding a glance in my rearview mirror, I watched as Gregor made the same quick maneuver.
I had to get off the drive. It was going to be too easy for him to run me off the road into one of the deserted parking lots which lined the different parks along the route.
I was coming up on Irving Park Road. No.
That exit was no good. It was always jammed up at the intersection right off the drive, no matter what time of night.
The area was too saturated with bars and restaurants.
In my side mirror, I could see Gregor maneuver from behind me to the lane next to mine. He was getting ready to force me off the road.
I slowed the car down to throw him off. As he adjusted his own speed, I hit the gas again, shooting past him.
His car switched back into gear, and I could see the Wilson exit approach.
It was perfect. A less popular, somewhat dark exit straight into Wilson Park.
It was unlikely any cars would be on the ramp.
At the last possible minute, I pulled the car to the right, exiting at a high rate of speed.
I could hear the screech of his brakes but didn’t dare take the time to look.
Keeping my grip on the steering wheel, I struggled to maintain control of the car as I forced it into a right turn.
The moment the car recovered, I went left. Straight through the park.
Finally, I dared a look.
The road behind me was empty.
There was no doubt he saw me turn onto Wilson, but maybe I got lucky, and he assumed I couldn’t make the sharp turn onto Simonds in time. If my strategy worked, perhaps he would assume I went right to head back into the safe anonymity of downtown.
Just as I turned onto Lawrence, I could see the distinctive narrow headlights of his Range Rover turn onto Simonds.
Damn.
The Lawrence exit led straight into Uptown. Another popular area that would be active with people as the bars closed and kicked everyone out. There would also be cops.
It was a risk I would have to take.
With Gregor quickly gaining, I made one turn after another, zigzagging through the narrow one-way streets in an attempt to lose him.
Finally, a car emerged from an alley, blocking his path.
I made a few quick turns and was gone.
I needed to get on the highway and get to O'Hare as quickly as possible. Driving to Canada was no longer an option since Gregor would probably report the car stolen once he realized I’d lost him.
I would hop on the first plane leaving the city, no matter the destination. Once I was in the air, I would send a message to Gregor telling him at what airport parking lot he could find his car. Maybe that would help lessen the possibility of him coming after me this time.
Too nervous to slow down, I continued to race around the small streets of Uptown, when I saw it.
Blue lights.
Trying to outrun a cop would be beyond stupid since he could easily call in backup and box me in.
With no other option, I pulled over.
Leaning over, I searched through the glove box for the registration as I waited for the cop to emerge from his vehicle. I then reached into my bag for my fake I.D. Hopefully, he just wrote the ticket and didn’t try to run Gwen Stevens through the system.
Some of my aliases were deep. Social security numbers, high school transcripts, paystubs, social media accounts. Others were very shallow, a quick fake I.D. to leave town without being traced.
My Gwen Stevens alias was very, very shallow. If the cop ran the name, he would come up with nothing and immediately become suspicious.
Taking a deep breath, I repeated in my head.
I’m Gwen Stevens. Gwen Stevens. Gwen.
Rolling down the window, I greeted the officer with a smile. “Good evening, officer. Did I do something wrong?”
“License and registration, ma’am.”
“Absolutely. I have them both here.”
“Ma’am. Are you aware your speed exceeded the posted limit by twenty miles per hour? You failed to bring your vehicle to a complete and full stop at that last intersection.”
I twirled one thick curl over my right shoulder and gave him an innocent, slightly teary-eyed look. “I know, officer. I’m so sorry. This is my boyfriend’s car, and I’m just nerv—”
“Ma’am, I am not finished. Do not interrupt me.”
So, I guess flirting won’t help me.
“You used an alley as a through street and failed to yield to a right of way vehicle.”
I remained silent.
“Remain here, ma’am.”
The officer walked back to his vehicle.
Stay calm. He rattled off mostly minor violations. At least he said nothing about reckless driving. I hunched down in my seat as headlights approached. A small blue Camry slowly passed. I let out the breath I was holding.
I kept an eye out for Gregor’s car. I had pulled over on a small side street, so my odds were good he wouldn’t find me.
The cop was taking forever.
As I waited, I checked outgoing flights at O’Hare on my phone. The earliest was at four-thirty am to Los Angeles. It would have to do. I would fly to LA, then double back to Montreal.
Finally, I heard the cop’s car door close and then his approach.
“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle.”
“What is the problem, officer?”
“Ma’am, please step out of the vehicle,” repeated the cop as he opened the driver’s side door for me.
Not wanting to cause a scene, I got out of the car.
“Please place your hands on the hood of the vehicle. Do you have any sharp objects or illegal items in your pockets?”
“I don’t have any pockets. These are yoga pants. Are you arresting me?” I asked as I placed my hands on the warm metal hood.
“Ma’am. You have the right to remain silent.”
I turned around to confront him. “What the hell? I’m getting arrested for a few traffic tickets? This is ridiculous!”
“Ma’am, please resume the position.”
I turned back around.
“Your vehicle matches the description of a vehicle which engaged in a reckless, high-speed drag race on Lake Shore Drive. You are being arrested on suspicion of—”
“Wait. Wait! This is not happening,” I argued as I turned back to face the officer.
“Ma’am. Please resume the position.”
“Stop calling me ma’am!” I shouted. This whole thing was getting out of control.
I wasn’t worried about getting arrested.
They wouldn’t have my real name, and my fingerprints had never been on file.
I was worried about getting caged up and Gregor finding out.
A man like him had to have just as many, if not more well-placed contacts in the Chicago police force as he did in D.C.
. They would no doubt contact the registered owner of the vehicle. I would be a sitting duck.
This is bad. Really bad.
At my outburst, the cop grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed my head down onto the hood of the car. He wrenched my arms behind me, I could hear the clatter of metal as the first cuff encircled my wrist.
Okay, this is way worse.
“Can I be of any assistance, officer?”
Gregor.
“This is a police matter, sir. Please return to your vehicle,” said the officer as he clicked the second cuff tightly into place.
“Officer Freidman? Perhaps you don’t remember me,” said Gregor in that calmly controlled voice I knew meant he was angry. Very angry.
“Mr. Ivanov?” responded the officer. He dragged me with him as he went to shake Gregor’s hand.
“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you at first. Mr. Ivanov, I want to thank you for that union construction job you got my brother.
It was a real lifesaver. If there is anything I can ever do to repay you, you just say the word. ”
“Actually, Friedman, there is something you can do.”
I could practically hear the charming smile through his words.
“I need you to release this female into my custody.”
Oh God.
“Why do you—”
“No questions asked,” finished Gregor. His tone said what he didn’t have to. Gregor could take away his brother’s job as easily as he gave it. Would a cop risk that over a traffic stop?
I shifted my aching shoulders as the stress of waiting for the cop’s response coupled with the uncomfortable position of being slung over a car hood with my arms handcuffed behind my back.
The cop turned and approached me. Without saying a word, he lifted me off the hood of the car into a standing position by my cuffs.
With Gregor back-lit by the headlights of his car, I couldn’t read his expression. Did I really need to see his face to know he was pissed?
So was I to be arrested or face Gregor’s fury?
I held my breath, still not sure which scenario was worse for me.
No, I knew.
Going with Gregor would be much, much worse.
Now that I was back under his control, I could see the transformation to his demeanor. There was a play of light in his eyes, a shift from slate grey to a deeper, darker, almost black grey. Transitioning from the look of someone haunted to someone who hunts.
His calm demeanor with a sheen of sophistication was a ruse which hid his true darker nature.
The very dark nature which drew my twisted heart to him, always giving me that wicked sensation I was playing with fire. And I had a feeling was about to get badly burned.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as the cop leaned down and fumbled with his keys, searching for the one to the cuffs.
He’s going to give me to Gregor!
“No,” Gregor said. “Leave the cuffs on.”