Chapter 7
It was early evening when I finally left Sinclair’s office.
He’d insisted that we order Thai food and eat together while he worked and I lounged around his office in my lingerie.
It was a pretty great way to spend an afternoon, and I laughed at the idea of returning to the Aston manor and thanking Byron for sending me on the errand in the first place.
The sun was setting over the water as I drove along the highway, and it was almost dark by the time I was near the house.
My phone chimed from the seat beside me, lighting up with a message from Sinclair, and I reached over to read it.
Sin: We might have to make what happened today in my office a weekly occurrence.
My thighs clenched at the thought, my mind wandering to the memories of what we’d done.
Maybe that’s how I didn’t see the lights of the car behind me until they were blaring in my rearview mirror.
“Get off my ass, you jerk!” I called out, knowing full well they couldn’t hear me.
The car continued to tail me, far too close than was safe or legal, as we rounded a bend in the road. What the hell was their problem?
They backed off and the tension in my body relaxed slightly.
Until they sped up again, ramming into the back of my car.
“What the fuck!” I screamed, gripping the wheel tightly to keep my car on the road. “What the hell are you doing!”
When they backed off a second time, I reached for my phone, dialling Dacre’s number and praying he wasn’t engrossed in his art right now. He answered on the third ring, right as the car behind slammed into me again, making me scream.
“Dempsey? Dempsey, are you okay? What’s happening?”
“Dacre, I need help! There’s a car following me, they’re ramming me.”
Right as I said it, they hit me again, my neck snapping forward at the impact, but I managed to save myself from smacking my head into the steering wheel.
“WHERE ARE YOU?” Dacre boomed down the phone, the sound of the garage opening in the background.
“I’m on the road to the house, about three miles away.”
The car behind me dropped back and I sped up, pushing my Bentley to its limits in an effort to avoid another collision.
“We’re coming, Dempsey,” came Presley’s voice down the line.
I wanted to sob at the notion that they were on their way, but I didn’t have time to fall apart right now. I rounded another bend, the car speeding up behind me, but headlights appeared in the distance, approaching with speed.
“We’re here, Dempsey, hit the brakes.”
I did as Presley asked, slamming on my brakes and praying the car behind me didn’t use the opportunity to take me out once they closed the distance I’d managed to put between us.
Dacre’s car swerved so its hood was in front of me, the rest of the car blocking the road. My headlights lit up Dacre behind the wheel, Presley beside him, and I’d never been so grateful to see them.
“You’re doing great, Sass, we’ve got you.”
I sagged with relief in my seat, knowing unless the car behind me did a U-turn and sped in the other direction or dropped down the sharp embankment at the side of the road, they had nowhere to go.
But the car didn’t slow, speeding towards Dacre’s and my heart was in my throat. At the last second, it swerved into the embankment, careening back onto the road a moment later and speeding away.
I dropped back against the seat, loosening my death grip on the steering wheel and breathing hard. Dacre and Pres were out of the car and at my door in an instant, pulling me from my seat and wrapping me up between them.
“We’ve got you,” Dacre soothed, stroking my hair until my breathing levelled out.
“I don’t know what the hell just happened,” I said against his chest.
Presley’s warm presence at my back, cocooning me between them, calmed me.
“Don’t worry about it now,” Pres soothed. “Let’s get you home.”
Dacre helped me to his car, while Presley retrieved my phone, purse, and the folder for Byron from my front seat. Then Pres slid in the passenger seat, tugging me into his lap and wrapping me in his arms.
“What about my car? We can’t just leave it there.”
Dacre turned towards the house, gunning it down the road. “You’re more important than the damn car. We’ll send one of the valets back for it.”
Presley squeezed me tighter. “You hated that car.”
It’s true, I kinda did.
“And Byron will probably buy you a new one anyway.”
The last thing I wanted was another expensive gift with strings attached from my stepfather.
Later that night when I was lying in Dacre’s bed listening to him sleep, the door creaked open and a body slipped in.
Sinclair shed his clothes down to his boxers, sliding into the bed next to me on the opposite side to Dacre.
Dacre and Presley had no problem getting into each other’s beds if I was in there, but Sinclair rarely did it. If I’d chosen to sleep in his bed for a night, he never protested if Pres or Dacre came in to be close to me, but it was rare for him to come into their rooms like this.
His arm slid over my waist, tugging me against him.
“I heard what happened. I should never have stayed at the office, I should have driven you home.”
I placed my palm to his cheek in an attempt to reassure him, my voice a quiet whisper to match his.
“I’m fine and injury-free. Just a little freaked out.”
His arm tightened around me, shifting me so I was flush against his bare chest.
“Did you get a look at them?”
“No, it was dark. All I could see were headlights.”
He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Don’t worry, we’ll find who did this to you.”
We were silent for a moment, my heart swelling at his protective words, then sinking at the memory of when I’d last heard them.
“You don’t think it was Boston, do you?” I asked, my voice small like a timid child.
I didn’t mean it to come out that way, but I was shaken up and exhausted and I couldn’t help it.
Sinclair’s tone hardened. “If it was Ivers, then he’s as good as dead.”
That was exactly what I was afraid he might say.