Unsub? What does that mean?
“Good. Mrs. Grey is doing well. At this rate, provided the traffic remains light
—and from what I can see it is—we’ll be off the bridge in a few minutes.”
“Sir.”
We flash past the bridge control tower, and I know we’re half way across
Lake Washington. When I check my speed, I’m still doing seventy-five.
90 | P a g e
E L JAMES
“You’re doing really well, Ana,” Christian murmurs again as he gazes out the
back of the R8. For a fleeting moment, his tone reminds me of our first
encounter in his playroom when he patiently encouraged me through our first
scene. The thought is distracting, and I dismiss it immediately.
“Where am I headed?” I ask, moderately calmer. I ha一ve the feel of the car
now. It’s a joy to drive, so quiet and easy to handle it’s hard to believe how
fast we are going. Driving at this speed in this car is easy.
“Mrs. Grey, head for I-5 and then south. We want to see if the Dodge follows
you all the way,” Sawyer says over the hands-free. The traffic lights on the
bridge are green—thank hea一vens—and I race onward.
I glance nervously at Christian, and he smiles reassuringly. Then his face
falls.
“Shit!” he swears softly.
There is a line of traffic ahead as we come off the bridge and I ha一ve to slow.
Glancing anxiously in the mirror once more, I think I spot the Dodge.
“Ten or so cars back?”
“Yeah, I see it,” Christian says, peering through the narrow rear window. “I
wonder who the fuck it is?”
“Me too. Do we know if it’s a man driving?” I blurt out toward the cradled
BlackBerry.
“No, Mrs. Grey. Could be a man or woman. The tint is too dark.”
“A woman?” Christian says.
I shrug. “Your Mrs. Robinson?” I suggest, not taking my eyes off the road.
Christian stiffens and lifts the BlackBerry out of its cradle. “She’s not my Mrs.
Robinson,” he growls. “I ha一ven’t spoken to her since my birthday. And Elena
wouldn’t do this. It’s not her style.”
“Leila?”
“She’s in Connecticut with her parents. I told you.”
“Are you sure?”
He pauses. “No. Bu
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