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Book: A Good Kind of Trouble (A Trouble in Twin Rivers Novel Book 1) by Ellie Ashe
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Authors: Ellie Ashe
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take her only a few seconds more to pull into the main parking lot. His car crept along at a snail's pace as the driver behind him motioned with increasing rage.
With an apologetic wave, Ben finally pulled over and the SUV roared past.
"Asshole," he muttered, pulling back onto the road and heading toward the east side of the park where he promised to meet Lindsey. Turning the car away from the main parking lot, his eyes were drawn to the motorcycle heading in the same direction, picking up speed.
He'd have to hurry to get to Lindsey first.
Then the motorcycle left the narrow lane, jumped the sidewalk and cut across the manicured lawn of the soccer field. He watched helplessly as it sped in a straight line toward the parking lot where he’d told Lindsey to wait.
Lindsey squeezed the BMW between two minivans, pulling forward as far as she could to hide the little car. She grabbed her messenger bag and her ball cap. She scrambled from the car, locked the doors, and jogged into a crowd of mothers and children. Once in their midst, she slowed. Did she blend in with the other women? She was the right age. She was even wearing khaki pants and a colorful t-shirt, the apparent uniform of the afternoon play-date. She sidled up to a woman about her age walking with two little girls.
"Hi, do you live around here?" It was a benefit of being a reporter—no fear approaching perfect strangers.
"Yes," the woman said.
Lindsey introduced herself. "My husband and I just moved here," she said. "I'm trying to find out more about the schools..."
"Oh, we have great schools," the woman said with a wide smile. "I'm Emily Robinson."
"Nice to meet you. My girls are about the same age as your daughters, I think."
Her falsehoods slipped easily off her lips. When had she learned to lie so convincingly?
"Well, you're going to want to get on the list for Sunset Elementary," Emily said. "It's consistently one of the top scorers in the county and they have a lot of great after-school programs. They even have an organic garden."
Lindsey smiled.
"Sounds great," she said, scanning the parking lot on the other side of the huge play structure for any sign of the black SUV. No sign of her tormentor, but also no sign of Ben.
"Where did you move from?" Emily asked, pulling Lindsey back to the conversation.
"Los Angeles," she said.
"Well, this is a great place to raise a family," Emily said. "You'll just love it here. Oh, Holly, sweetie, your shoe's untied."
"I'll get it for you. You've got your hands full." Lindsey crouched next to the little girl and tied the pink laces slowly, glancing up again at the parking lot. Still no sign of him.
"Oh my God," Emily said. "Can you believe that guy?"
Lindsey‘s head jerked up, her heart racing at the alarm in Emily’s voice. "What?"
"That motorcycle! It's on the soccer field."
Her heart hammering in her chest, Lindsey stayed crouched but looked in the direction of the field. Her stomach clenched at the sight of the too-familiar black and red leather jacket. With the motorcycle taking a shortcut over the grass, there was no way she could get to the parking lot without being spotted.
"Someone should call the cops," she said.
"You're right," Emily said, whipping out a cell phone and dialing 9-1-1. As she reported the motorcyclist to the dispatcher, another woman approached with two little boys in tow.
"Did you see that?" she asked Lindsey.
"Yes, Emily's calling 9-1-1," she said, glancing between the parking lot and the motorcyclist. If she sprinted toward the parking lot now, it would only draw attention. Where was Ben?
"You know what, the police are going to take too long," the woman said. "Andrew, Douglas—stay here with these ladies. I'll be right back."
She dropped a backpack to the ground, unzipped a pocket and pulled out a high-end digital camcorder. Then she began running toward the motorcycle and the soccer field, while the other moms
With an apologetic wave, Ben finally pulled over and the SUV roared past.
"Asshole," he muttered, pulling back onto the road and heading toward the east side of the park where he promised to meet Lindsey. Turning the car away from the main parking lot, his eyes were drawn to the motorcycle heading in the same direction, picking up speed.
He'd have to hurry to get to Lindsey first.
Then the motorcycle left the narrow lane, jumped the sidewalk and cut across the manicured lawn of the soccer field. He watched helplessly as it sped in a straight line toward the parking lot where he’d told Lindsey to wait.
Lindsey squeezed the BMW between two minivans, pulling forward as far as she could to hide the little car. She grabbed her messenger bag and her ball cap. She scrambled from the car, locked the doors, and jogged into a crowd of mothers and children. Once in their midst, she slowed. Did she blend in with the other women? She was the right age. She was even wearing khaki pants and a colorful t-shirt, the apparent uniform of the afternoon play-date. She sidled up to a woman about her age walking with two little girls.
"Hi, do you live around here?" It was a benefit of being a reporter—no fear approaching perfect strangers.
"Yes," the woman said.
Lindsey introduced herself. "My husband and I just moved here," she said. "I'm trying to find out more about the schools..."
"Oh, we have great schools," the woman said with a wide smile. "I'm Emily Robinson."
"Nice to meet you. My girls are about the same age as your daughters, I think."
Her falsehoods slipped easily off her lips. When had she learned to lie so convincingly?
"Well, you're going to want to get on the list for Sunset Elementary," Emily said. "It's consistently one of the top scorers in the county and they have a lot of great after-school programs. They even have an organic garden."
Lindsey smiled.
"Sounds great," she said, scanning the parking lot on the other side of the huge play structure for any sign of the black SUV. No sign of her tormentor, but also no sign of Ben.
"Where did you move from?" Emily asked, pulling Lindsey back to the conversation.
"Los Angeles," she said.
"Well, this is a great place to raise a family," Emily said. "You'll just love it here. Oh, Holly, sweetie, your shoe's untied."
"I'll get it for you. You've got your hands full." Lindsey crouched next to the little girl and tied the pink laces slowly, glancing up again at the parking lot. Still no sign of him.
"Oh my God," Emily said. "Can you believe that guy?"
Lindsey‘s head jerked up, her heart racing at the alarm in Emily’s voice. "What?"
"That motorcycle! It's on the soccer field."
Her heart hammering in her chest, Lindsey stayed crouched but looked in the direction of the field. Her stomach clenched at the sight of the too-familiar black and red leather jacket. With the motorcycle taking a shortcut over the grass, there was no way she could get to the parking lot without being spotted.
"Someone should call the cops," she said.
"You're right," Emily said, whipping out a cell phone and dialing 9-1-1. As she reported the motorcyclist to the dispatcher, another woman approached with two little boys in tow.
"Did you see that?" she asked Lindsey.
"Yes, Emily's calling 9-1-1," she said, glancing between the parking lot and the motorcyclist. If she sprinted toward the parking lot now, it would only draw attention. Where was Ben?
"You know what, the police are going to take too long," the woman said. "Andrew, Douglas—stay here with these ladies. I'll be right back."
She dropped a backpack to the ground, unzipped a pocket and pulled out a high-end digital camcorder. Then she began running toward the motorcycle and the soccer field, while the other moms
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