Read Online Trapped (Private Justice Book #2): A Novel by Irene Hannon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Irene Hannon
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“Sit tight. I’ll be back in a minute.”
He cleaned the windshield as quickly as he could, pellets of sleet pinging off the exposed glass as fast as he cleared it. Now that ice had been added to the mix, driving would be even trickier.
Time to get this show on the road.
As he brushed himself off and climbed back behind the wheel, Laura sent him a worried look. “Do you think we should be driving in this?”
Putting the engine in gear, he dodged the question with humor. “Since I don’t plan to spend the night in my car and the shelter’s full, our only other option is to build an igloo.”
She tugged off her scarf as the heater kicked in. “I left my igloo-building tools at home. Why don’t I just say a few prayers instead?”
From her tone, he couldn’t tell if she was joking or serious—but he suspected the latter.
“Can’t hurt. And for what it’s worth, I grew up in Minnesota.” Pressing on the gas, he eased the Explorer toward the middle of the deserted street, leaving a wide berth on either side. “Trust me, if we’d let weather like this stop us, we’d have spent our winters in hibernation. I’ve driven on plenty of roads in far worse condition and in vehicles far less suited to blizzards.”
In the muted glow of a snow-clad street lamp, he caught the brief flicker of her strained smile. “That’s an impressive credential. I’ll try to relax.”
But it didn’t happen. As he drove through the unplowed side streets leading out of downtown, snow crunching under the tires, the tension emanating from the passenger seat in the silent car was as thick as the coating of ice on the pine tree outside his office window—and just as ready to snap.
While navigating the next corner, he sent Laura a surreptitious glance. Her hands were clenched in her lap, her attention riveted on the road ahead, and her back was ramrod straight. It was a repeat performance of the trip down, when his attempts to start a conversation had led to nothing more than monosyllabic answers. And every time he’d reached for the lidded cup of coffee in the holder between their seats, he’d half expected her to slap his fingers and tell him to keep both hands on the wheel.
The lady might be okay visiting homeless shelters, but it was clear she didn’t like snow and ice.
A mound of snow appeared in front of him, blocking his way, and his defensive driving skills kicked in with a spurt of adrenaline. Swerving to avoid the obstacle, and anticipating the fishtail that sent his back bumper careening toward a tree near the shoulder, he corrected the skid. Despite his adept handling of the situation, however, Laura gasped and clutched the edge of the seat.
Yep. Totally freaked. It was the kind of reaction he’d expect from a stereotypical sheltered librarian—but not from a woman who’d lived on the seedy side of town for a year and had no doubt been forced to dodge much more dangerous things.
As if reading his mind, she spoke, her subdued voice not quite steady. “Sorry. I’m not normally such a wimp, but I was in an accident years ago in an ice storm during a high school ski trip. Our bus missed a curve on the mountain road and rolled over. Since then, I’ve avoided driving in ice and snow whenever possible.”
No wonder she was gun-shy of slippery roads.
Yet she hadn’t let a very legitimate fear stop her from coming with him tonight to help search for Darcy.
Laura Griffith a wimp?
Not even close.
Kicking himself for jumping to conclusions, he lightened his pressure on the gas pedal. He might be used to barreling through this stuff, but there was no reason he couldn’t slow things down for the woman beside him. Besides, there was nothing waiting for him in his apartment except mindless TV and a frozen pizza.
“That makes sense.” He flexed his fingers on the wheel, debating whether to probe a bit, and decided to go for it. “Were you hurt in that accident?”
“I fractured my arm. But the girl sitting next
He cleaned the windshield as quickly as he could, pellets of sleet pinging off the exposed glass as fast as he cleared it. Now that ice had been added to the mix, driving would be even trickier.
Time to get this show on the road.
As he brushed himself off and climbed back behind the wheel, Laura sent him a worried look. “Do you think we should be driving in this?”
Putting the engine in gear, he dodged the question with humor. “Since I don’t plan to spend the night in my car and the shelter’s full, our only other option is to build an igloo.”
She tugged off her scarf as the heater kicked in. “I left my igloo-building tools at home. Why don’t I just say a few prayers instead?”
From her tone, he couldn’t tell if she was joking or serious—but he suspected the latter.
“Can’t hurt. And for what it’s worth, I grew up in Minnesota.” Pressing on the gas, he eased the Explorer toward the middle of the deserted street, leaving a wide berth on either side. “Trust me, if we’d let weather like this stop us, we’d have spent our winters in hibernation. I’ve driven on plenty of roads in far worse condition and in vehicles far less suited to blizzards.”
In the muted glow of a snow-clad street lamp, he caught the brief flicker of her strained smile. “That’s an impressive credential. I’ll try to relax.”
But it didn’t happen. As he drove through the unplowed side streets leading out of downtown, snow crunching under the tires, the tension emanating from the passenger seat in the silent car was as thick as the coating of ice on the pine tree outside his office window—and just as ready to snap.
While navigating the next corner, he sent Laura a surreptitious glance. Her hands were clenched in her lap, her attention riveted on the road ahead, and her back was ramrod straight. It was a repeat performance of the trip down, when his attempts to start a conversation had led to nothing more than monosyllabic answers. And every time he’d reached for the lidded cup of coffee in the holder between their seats, he’d half expected her to slap his fingers and tell him to keep both hands on the wheel.
The lady might be okay visiting homeless shelters, but it was clear she didn’t like snow and ice.
A mound of snow appeared in front of him, blocking his way, and his defensive driving skills kicked in with a spurt of adrenaline. Swerving to avoid the obstacle, and anticipating the fishtail that sent his back bumper careening toward a tree near the shoulder, he corrected the skid. Despite his adept handling of the situation, however, Laura gasped and clutched the edge of the seat.
Yep. Totally freaked. It was the kind of reaction he’d expect from a stereotypical sheltered librarian—but not from a woman who’d lived on the seedy side of town for a year and had no doubt been forced to dodge much more dangerous things.
As if reading his mind, she spoke, her subdued voice not quite steady. “Sorry. I’m not normally such a wimp, but I was in an accident years ago in an ice storm during a high school ski trip. Our bus missed a curve on the mountain road and rolled over. Since then, I’ve avoided driving in ice and snow whenever possible.”
No wonder she was gun-shy of slippery roads.
Yet she hadn’t let a very legitimate fear stop her from coming with him tonight to help search for Darcy.
Laura Griffith a wimp?
Not even close.
Kicking himself for jumping to conclusions, he lightened his pressure on the gas pedal. He might be used to barreling through this stuff, but there was no reason he couldn’t slow things down for the woman beside him. Besides, there was nothing waiting for him in his apartment except mindless TV and a frozen pizza.
“That makes sense.” He flexed his fingers on the wheel, debating whether to probe a bit, and decided to go for it. “Were you hurt in that accident?”
“I fractured my arm. But the girl sitting next
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