Page 28 of Mr. Strategic

What if I couldn’t find the car?

My legs felt heavy but my heart was thrumming like a hummingbird’s.

But once I got to the parking lot, I was able to press the door lock, frantically over and over, and then I easily located it.

I could do this

My hands were trembling, and I forced myself to take a deep breath as I pulled out of the parking lot.

Since it was Reuben’s car I didn’t want to be reckless with it, but when I heard the frantic squeal of Michael’s Ferrari behind me, I gunned it, pressing down on the gas.

What if I forgot where Reuben lived?

What if Michael caught up to me?

He wouldn’t be expecting me to speed. He wouldn’t be expecting me to do anything but be the quiet, shy wife he had married.

I forced myself to concentrate, watching the headlights behind me as I covered the ground to our subdivision.

2 miles.

1 mile.

When I pulled up to the last intersection, Michael flicked his lights impatiently behind me, and I could see the outline of his face in my rearview mirror.

His jaw was set with grim, dark anger, and I looked quickly around and took Reuben’s car right over the curb.

Then I stomped on the gas pedal, slammed it down to the floor, and tore off down the road until I pulled up in front of Reuben’s house.

I smelled burned rubber as I jerked on the emergency brake, broke from the car, and sprinted into the house.

What if I forgot the code to the front door?

I punched it in hastily, my breath loud in the quiet street.

Shit. That wasn’t it.

What number was wrong?

I tried it again.

Shit shit shit.

The deafening squeal of Michael’s engine sent a cold sweat coursing down my back.

To come so close and fail!

His door slammed open, scraped against the curb, and somewhere I heard a window shatter.

What was it what was it what was it

And then suddenly I was in, slamming the door behind me and pulling the deadbolt.

Safe.

Would he just turn around and leave? Admit defeat?

For a few minutes, wild unruly hope sprung in my chest.