back in our seats, speeding through the now red light.
“He’s taking Stewart,” Sawyer says.
“Stay with him, Luke.”
“Luke?”
“That’s his name.”
A quick glance and I can see Christian glaring at me as if I’m crazy.
“Eyes on the road!” he snaps.
I ignore his tone. “Luke Sawyer.”
“Yes!” He sounds exasperated.
“Ah.” How did I not know this? The man has been following me to work for the
last six weeks, and I didn’t even know his first name.
“That’s me, ma’am,” Sawyer says, startling me, though he’s speaking in the
calm, monotone voice he always uses. “The unsub is heading down Stewart,
sir. He’s really picking up speed.”
“Go, Ana. Less of the fucking chitchat,” Christian growls.
“We’re stopped at the first light on Stewart.” Sawyer informs us.
“Ana—quick—in here,” Christian shouts, pointing to a parking lot on the
south side of Boren Avenue. I turn, the tires screeching in protest as I swerve
into the crowded lot.
“Drive around. Quick,” Christian orders. I drive as fast as I can to the back,
out of sight of the street. “In there.” Christian points to a space. Shit! He
wants me to park it. Crap!
“Just fucking do it,” he says. So I do . . . perfectly. Probably the only time I
ha一ve ever parked perfectly.
“We’re hidden in the parking lot between Stewart and Boren,”
Christian says into the BlackBerry.
“Okay, sir.” Sawyer sounds irritated. “Stay where you are; we’ll follow the
unsub.”
Christian turns to me, his eyes searching my face. “You okay?”
“Sure,” I whisper.
Christian smirks. “Whoever’s driving that Dodge can’t hear us, you know.”
And I laugh.
“We’re passing Stewart and Boren now, sir. I see the lot. He’s gone straight
past you, sir.”
94 | P a g e
E L JAMES
Both of us sag simultaneously with relief.
“Well done, Mrs. Grey. Good driving.” Christian gently strokes my face with
his fingertips, and I jump at the contact, inhaling deeply. I had no idea I was
holding my breath.
“Does this mean you’ll stop complaining about my driving?” I ask. He laughs
—a loud cathartic laugh.
“
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