Let her know that he was going to get some tonight. Let her know he didn’t need her to make fireworks.
“Absolutely.” Lucky put his arm around her waist.
He glanced at Syd, but she was already back to her discussion with Lucy, and she didn’t look up.
As Heather dragged him to the door, Lucky knew he was the envy of every man in the bar. He was going home with a beautiful woman who wanted to have wild sex with him.
He should have been running for his car. He should have been in a hurry to get her naked.
But as he reached the door, he couldn’t stop himself from hesitating, from looking back at Syd.
She glanced up at that exact moment, and their eyes met and held. The connection was instantaneous. It was cracklingly powerful, burningly intense.
He didn’t look away, and neither did she.
It was far more intimate than he’d ever been with Heather, and they’d spent days together naked.
Heather tugged at his arm, pressed her body against him, pulled his head down for a kiss.
Lucky responded instinctively, and when he looked back at Syd, she had turned away.
“Come on, baby,” Heather murmured. “I’m in a hurry.”
Lucky let her pull him out the door.
THE PICKUP TRUCK WAS following her.
Syd had first noticed the headlights in her rearview mirror as she’d pulled out of La Cantina’s parking lot.
The truck had stayed several car lengths behind her as she’d headed west on Arizona Avenue. And when she’d made a left turn onto Draper, he’d turned, too.
She knew for sure when she did a series of right and left turns, taking the shortcut to her neighborhood. It couldn’t be a coincidence. He was definitely following her.
Syd and Lucy had talked briefly after Navy Ken had taken his inflatable Barbie home. She’d stayed in the bar after Lucy had left as well, having a glass of beer as she wrote her latest women’s safety article on her laptop. It was far easier to write in the noisy bar than it would have been in her too-quiet apartment. She missed the chaos of the newsroom. And being home alone would only have served to remind her that Lucky O’Donlon wasn’t.
Miss Vapid USA was, no doubt, his soul mate. Syd wondered rather viciously if they spent all their time together gazing into mirrors. Blond and Blonder.
Lucy had volunteered the information that Heather was typical of the type of women the SEAL fraternized with. He went for beauty queens who were usually in their late teens, with an IQ not much higher than their age.
Syd didn’t know why she was surprised. God forbid a man like Luke O’Donlon should ever become involved with a woman who actually meant something to him. A woman who talked back to him, offering a differing opinion and a challenging, vivacious honest-to-God relationship….
Who was she kidding? Did she really imagine she tasted integrity in his kisses?
It was true that he’d protested admirably when she’d accused him of trying to steal his XO’s wife, but all that meant was that he had a line in his debauchery that he would not cross.
He was hot, he was smooth, he could kiss like a dream, but his passion was empty. For indeed, what was passion without emotion? A balloon that, when popped, revealed nothing but slightly foul-smelling air.
She was glad she’d seen Luke O’Donlon with his Barbie doll. It was healthy, it was realistic and just maybe it would keep her damned subconscious from dreaming erotic dreams about him tonight.
Syd took a right turn onto Pacific, pulling into the right lane and slowing down enough so that anyone in their right mind would pass her, but the truck stayed behind her.
Think. She had to think. Or rather, she had to stop thinking about Luke O’Donlon and his perfect butt and focus on the fact that a sociopathic serial rapist could well be following her through the nearly deserted streets of San Felipe.
She’d written an article dealing with this very subject just minutes ago.
If you think someone is following you, she’d said, do not go home. Drive directly to the police station. If you have a cell phone, use it to call for help.
Syd fumbled in her shoulder bag for her cell phone, hesitating only slightly before she pushed the speed-dial button she’d programmed with Lucky O’Donlon’s home phone number. It would serve him right if she interrupted him.
His machine picked up after only two rings, and she skipped over his sexy-voiced message.
“O’Donlon, it’s Syd. If you’re there, pick up.” Nothing. “Lieutenant, I know my voice is the last thing you probably want to hear right now, but I’m being followed.” Oh, crud, her voice cracked slightly, and her fear and apprehension peeked through. She took a deep breath, hoping to sound calm and collected, but only managing to sound very small and pitiful. “Are you there?”
No response. The answering machine beeped, cutting her off.
Okay. Okay. As long as she kept moving, she’d be okay.
And chances were, if she pulled into the brightly lit police-station parking lot, whoever was following her would drive away.
But what a missed opportunity that would be. If this were the rapist behind her, they could catch him. Right now. Tonight.
She pressed one of the other speed-dial numbers she’d programmed into her phone. Detective Lucy McCoy’s home number.
One ring. Two rings. Three…
“‘Lo?” Lucy sounded as if she’d already been asleep.
“Lucy, it’s Syd.” She gave a quick rundown of the situation, and Lucy snapped instantly awake.
“Stay on Pacific,” Lucy ordered. “What’s your license plate number?”
“God, I don’t know. My car’s a little black Civic. The truck’s one of those full-size ones—I haven’t been able to see what color—something dark. And he’s hanging too far back for me to see his plate number.”
“Just keep driving,” Lucy said. “Slow and steady. I’m calling in as many cars as possible to intercept.”
Slow and steady.
Syd used her cell phone and tried calling Lucky one more time.
Nothing.
Slow and steady.
She was heading north on Pacific. She could just follow the road all the way up to San Francisco, slowly and steadily. Provided the truck behind her let her stop for gas. She was running low. Of course a little car like this could go for miles on a sixteenth of a tank. She had no reason to be afraid. At any minute, the San Felipe police were going to come to the rescue.
Any minute. Any. Minute.
