think. She went ahead and pushed her grandmother behind her. Then when she saw the biker hold up something long and cylindrical, her heart gave an extra jolt, and her eyes widened.
Four months ago, she had stared down the barrel of a gun, a horrific sight she’d never forget. Once more it looked as if fate had chosen to mark her as a victim of violent crime. She staggered, but refused to waver. If nothing else, she would make sure Babička wouldn’t have to go through what she had already experienced once.
“ Babička, here, take these.” She fished the car keys out of her coat pocket and thrust them out. “Run back to the car. Get in and drive away.”
Lena tried to step forward, but Katarina blocked her. “What are you talking about?”
“The gun.”
“What gun?”
Katarina wiped away the rain that clung to her eyelashes and blurred her vision. She blinked. What gun indeed?
What he was holding was her umbrella. And by the look of it, right side out, closed and neatly snapped shut.
The surge of adrenaline gradually dissipated. Okay, her heart was pounding like a pile driver to be sure, but at least it was functioning.
“Did one of you ladies lose an umbrella?” the stranger asked.
Lena stepped from behind the speechless Katarina. “My granddaughter. She dropped it when you got her all wet when you went driving by like some crazy maniac. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
The biker flipped up his visor. The glow from a streetlamp cast his features in shadowy angles and planes. But despite the rain and other obscuring elements, his firm jawline cut the air like a piece of granite.
“I’m very sorry,” he said.
Did slabs of granite move? Katarina wondered.
“It’s just that I’m…uh…kind of preoccupied at the moment—” he rubbed his chin “—and I didn’t see you in the dark with the rain. I know it’s no excuse, but I hope you’re okay. No permanent damage or anything?”
Katarina shook her head. It was impossible to make out the color of his eyes but his teeth shone white as he spoke in low, rushed tones, and she could sense the anxiousness in his voice, a sexy, mellifluous baritone of a voice.
Katarina told herself not to take any notice, that whatever she was sensing was more probably an aftershock from envisioning what might have been. “Wet but otherwise fine,” she said in answer to his question. At least the wet part was accurate.
“Well, if you’re sure…?” He fidgeted with the handlebars. “Listen, I don’t mean to, to…ah…splash and run, but if you’re really okay, I have a small family crisis I need to deal with. It’s really urgent.” He worked his lower lip.
Katarina couldn’t help noticing how full it was. Aftershock, aftershock, she told herself and swallowed. “Not, not to worry,” she said.
“I can give you my phone number to let me know about dry cleaning expenses or something?”
“No, really, I’m fine. And everything will be fine once it dries out.”
He reached for his visor.
Katarina held out her hand. “Just one thing. My umbrella?”
“Oh, right. Sorry about that.” He seemed to hesitate, then thrust it at her. “If you’ll excuse me then.” He nodded goodbye, flipped down his visor and thundered off into the night. The heavy strumming of the rain muffled the sound of the engine until it vanished into oblivion.
“‘Splash and run.’ I like that,” Lena said. “But careless, much too careless.” She turned and inspected her granddaughter. “Katarina? What do you think?”
“Yes, Babička?” Katarina pulled her gaze away from the disappearing figure, half hearing what her grandmother said and having less than half an interest in responding. She sucked in the insides of her cheeks and forced herself to concentrate on the essential here and now. “Listen, I think we need to hurry if we’re not going to be late to class.”
Lena stood unmoving with her eyes focused on the receding figure. “Don’t pretend you didn’t hear what I said.”
“I didn’t,” Katarina said.
Lena held up her hand to thwart any protests. “Waddayaknow! Look!” She pointed down the road. “He’s stopping at the high school! All I can say is, if he turns out to be the defensive driving instructor, I’m going to have to call Iris again and let her know. We can’t have that.”
Katarina pointed her umbrella triumphantly in the air. “Ah, hah!” she said. “See, I was right! You did call Iris Phox about me teaching! Now you can’t deny it.”
Lena turned back to her granddaughter. “So sue me. As your grandmother, I only had your best interests at heart.” Then she nodded and smiled what could only be described as a very ungrandmotherly-like smile. “He was something, wasn’t he?”
“Babička!”
Lena shrugged. “I may be no spring chicken, but I still know a rooster when I see one.” She sniffed loudly. “Unlike some people, I might add.”
“I’m not immune to the opposite sex, you know,” Katarina protested.
“What I know would fill a book, a very large book. Come, I hate being late. And, you, brush your hair and wipe your face when you get inside. You never know what might happen.”
CHAPTER THREE
KATARINA GAZED AT THE brass knob, its surface marred by the sweaty palms of generations of eager young minds, and realized that the whole problem was she could imagine what might happen. Not with the mysterious biker. That was out of the realm of imagination. But with the class.
They’d hate her. She would bore them. They’d ask her questions she couldn’t answer. She’d run out of things to say. People would get up and leave early. And on and on.
And the really frustrating part about it all? She had absolutely no experience when it came to dealing with these kinds of anxieties. Up until the shooting, she had been fearless, some coworkers at Curtis Worldwide Home Products Inc., would have said even reckless, especially those she had passed by in her rapid rise to senior vice president for finance. But then, she had never had a reason to doubt herself.
From an early age, Katarina’s single mother had taught her to be independent. This was the same single mother whose own independent streak now took her to Antarctica to carry out geological research. And why should Katarina have doubted her word? After all, Katarina had been blessed with the two best qualities a single child could have: the ability to amuse herself with long hours of reading, and the self-confidence to believe she could do anything if she set her mind to it. She had succeeded in school, college and business school, graduating at the top of her class and sailing into a dream job out on the West Coast. If someone needed a report by midnight, she could produce it. A partner to climb Kilimanjaro? No problem.
But ever since a bullet had ripped though her right knee, that kind of fortitude, some might even
