Coming Attractions (17 page)

Cara risked a
glance at him in the starlight. He paused, breathed hard, scrunched up his
eyes, swallowed. She gave his hand a hard squeeze. He rubbed his thumb over
hers. When he continued, his voice was even more ravaged, his words heavy and
hurting.

“I’d barely gotten as far as the next suburb when it
happened. It was like slow motion. A school bus snagged my attention. It had
just pulled up on the opposite side of the road and kids were pouring out every
which way. I was being cautious, going slow, conscious that any one of them
might run out into the street. Because my eyes were on the bus and the kids, I
was maybe half a second too late seeing the dark sedan pulling out of the side
street, directly in my path. Clearly, the driver didn’t see the bike coming. Even
that would have been okay if he had kept going. I hit the anchors, but at that
moment, one of the school kids did run out on the road and the car stopped
mid-turn to avoid cleaning up the kid. With a school kid on one side and a car
in front, there was no place to go but the footpath. I counter-steered and
launched the bike over the gutter and around the car. And for a second, it
seemed like everything would somehow miraculously be all right. But, as luck
would have it, there was some construction work going on and half the pavement
was dug up and the other half was blocked off. I literally had nowhere to go. I
almost got around the barriers, but I clipped a danger sign and, next thing,
the bike was swerving out of control, airborne, then sliding. Bronte and I were
both thrown off. I landed in an azalea bush. Broke my arm. Bronte landed on an
excavator. Broke her neck.”

Cara held in a
whimper of distress. His feelings of guilt were palpable and, in that moment,
she would have done anything to take his pain away. Seeing a fellow human in
agony was awful, but seeing the man she loved expose the utter devastation in
his heart was almost more than Cara could bear. She wanted to reach for him,
hold him close, make it better, but he was still in that dark place behind his
eyes, behind his ribs, and she knew he was still unreachable.

“She’s been in the
hospital in an induced coma for eighteen months now. It’s been the most
horrible kind of limbo. No surgeon is game to touch her. Her situation is too
dicey. The chances of damaging her brain or causing quadriplegia during surgery
are phenomenally high. And yet, the life she has now is no life at all. Long
story short, Erin finally found a guy in California who says he’ll give the
operation a go. But the cost is unbelievable. If I owned a small country, I’d
probably still struggle,” he said without humor. “We’ve knocked ourselves out
fundraising, but even with people’s mind-blowingly incredible generosity, it’s
barely a drop in the ocean…”

“And that’s why you’re
so desperate for money,” Cara said quietly, almost to herself.

“When I saw your
script, it seemed like a way forward. If we can get this surgeon to perform the
operation, there’s a small chance we can get Bronte back. Now that we can jazz
up the plot a little, we’re one step closer to saving Bronte.”

“Oh, Levi,” she
said, and drew him to her. Their lovemaking was earnest and ardent. They held each
other’s eyes and clung to one another as though to affirm their aliveness. It
was magic and heartbreaking, gentle and desperate all at once.

“No wonder you don’t
ride,” she murmured as she stroked his hair and traced his jawline afterwards.

“I lost my nerve,
Cara. Gavin, a young neighbor, was just shy of scoring his bike license. He
bought a 125 out of the paper and needed someone to ride it just three blocks
from the seller’s place to his home. I said I’d help out, but when I saw the
bike, I went to pieces. Sweating, nausea, the whole box and dice. I was shaking
so badly I wouldn’t have been able to get the key in the ignition, let alone
hold the bike up. It was embarrassing. But it was also devastating. I’ll never
ride again.”

Chapter
Fourteen

They were careful with one another
the following morning, like a couple of china figurines tiptoeing round each
another, almost afraid to touch in case they broke the fragile strand of true
intimacy that had been threaded between them during the previous night’s
conversation.

He graciously offered to fetch her Gearsack
from the main house while she showered. She filled two plates with breakfast
from the trestle table outside the back door while he took his turn in the
bathroom. He cleared the foldout table of what she now recognized as medical
bills and they ate quietly with only perfunctory remarks. The mood was not so
much strained or uncomfortable as careful and considerate.

Cara was afraid that he might take
any show of empathy as pity, which she knew, as a proud self-sufficient man, he
wouldn’t want. She was scared of saying the wrong thing, in case she
inadvertently shut down his newfound openness, when all she wanted was to be
closer to him. The glimpse she had been granted of the vulnerable depths of
Levi Callister had her more intrigued and entranced than ever. And his
demonstration of trust in sharing his story with her created a kernel of hope and
courage in her heart. It was the seed of a kind of love that she had always
thought might be possible for others—like chick flick heroines and the “in”
girls at school—but she had never imagined would be available to a guarded,
damaged person like herself.

The polite veneer of distance was
something they both seemed to need to regroup after Levi’s starlit confession.

“Need a lift to your sister’s?”
Levi asked as he took her empty plate and filled the sink with soapy water.

“I’d love a ride if it’s not too
much trouble. My niece Freya is celebrating her twelfth birthday today. Of
course, you’re welcome to come to the party.”

He surprised her by accepting her
invitation, and they left Flinders’ Keep together in the late morning.

He drove her across the neck of
land and they were just passing the school when she saw it—a flash of red up a
side street. He whipped his head round at the same moment, his eyes tracking
the streak of red metal. With a calm he couldn’t possibly feel, he eased the
truck to a stop. There was no mistaking her bike, the air-cooled v-twin parked
at a jaunty angle with its back wheel hard against the curb. For a moment, they
both simply sat, agape, taking in the sight of it. While the moment lengthened,
unexpected and surreal, Cara ran her eyes over the familiar lines, noting a new
scratch on the faring, a crack in the side mirror, and matching scrapes on the
foot peg and rear indicator. Other than that, the bike seemed unscathed.

Her heart pounded, her eyes teared
up, and her hands itched to touch her flying dragon.

Levi interrupted the stillness by
motioning for her to look to the right where a scruffy young guy in a flannel
shirt was exiting a takeaway, trying to juggle a cheap helmet, keys, a coffee,
and a brown grease-spotted bag. Everything from his scrawny frame to his
scraggily beard made her prickle with distaste.
Rotten, no-good thief!

“I’m going to kill him,” Cara
growled, reaching for the door.

She heard the click of the
child-lock and tugged uselessly on the door lever. Before she could even voice
a protest, let alone strangle him, Levi was out of the truck. He’d locked her
in the damn car! Where the hell was the lock release?

Leaving the engine running, Levi leapt
down to the tarmac and, in three fast steps, he collared the rider. Coffee and
bagels went flying down the pavement as the two men wrestled. The lurid green
helmet bounced into the gutter and the keys followed as the long-haired thief
tried to take a swing at Levi. Bigger, stronger, and faster than the young
punk, Levi smashed his powerful fist into the young man’s solar plexus and the guy
doubled over, gasping and staggering backwards. Before Levi could throw a
follow-up punch, the thief backed out of reach toward the silver Tacoma. As he
approached, staggering backwards toward the truck, Cara could see the gang tattoo
on his forearm. She could also see the knife he was fishing out of his back
pocket.

She wanted to scream in fear and
frustration. She needed to warn Levi! Her fingers were shaking, but she managed
to unclip her seatbelt and clambered across the console toward the driver’s
side. She hit random buttons, desperate for the child lock release. She heard
the tell-tale click, but simultaneously activated the driver’s window control.

“Knife!” she shouted through the
gap left by the descending glass.

But in the same moment, the thief
whirled around, yanked open the truck door, shoved Cara roughly back into the
cab and pulled the driver’s door closed behind him. In the next heartbeat, he
hit the accelerator.

****

Oh,
shit!
Levi thought.
Shit, shit shit.
It was
not the most eloquent, but it was apt and pretty much summed up his current
predicament, he figured.

The thief had taken off in his truck,
which was bad enough, but worse, Cara was trapped inside with the scumbag. The
last thing Cara had said was “knife.” If the guy was armed, who knew what could
happen next? The possibilities flooded his mind—rape, maiming, murder… His fear
kicked up a couple thousand notches.

What to do? He could call Brian, if
his phone wasn’t charging in the truck’s console.

He could make chase.

On
foot?
he thought.

He glanced at the Ducati.

No…

Bile rose in his throat and sweat gathered
like torrential rain. His heart thundered in his chest as though he’d let loose
a herd of wildebeest. His breath wouldn’t come.

I’ll never ride again.
 
His own words from last night
blasted through his head, pinging and echoing like some sick pinball game.

But even as his body tried to shut
down and his mind blew all of its fuses, his heart calmly and firmly took over.
Only one thing mattered—saving Cara. He ignored the nausea and wiped the sweat
out of his eyes. He forced himself to suck in air and retrieved the helmet from
the gutter, shoving it on his head with shaking hands. In record time, he
rammed the keys into the shiny, obviously newly fitted ignition, thumbed the
starter, flicked up the side-stand, kicked the bike into gear, and took off
after the Tacoma.

The truck was little more than a
silver smudge in the distance, but the bike was swift and nimble and it ate up
tarmac like a hungry road dragon. If he’d had a moment to pause and take it all
in, he might have noticed how much he was loving the feel of being on two
wheels again, how riding, especially fast, was more like flying. But he only
had room in his thoughts for Cara’s release.

If the guy didn’t kill her with his
crazy-ass driving, he might take to her with his knife. And that simply could
not happen.

Levi never thought he’d see the day
when he thought a speed trap was a blessing, but as he followed the careening
truck past a lurking police car, his heart leapt and he pumped his fist in the
air. As the cruiser’s siren started blaring and the police car fell in behind
him, Levi offered up a silent prayer of thanks. He only hoped the two vehicles
now in pursuit of the truck wouldn’t spook the young driver into doing
something even more stupid.

They were out of suburbia and on
the old highway. Though superseded by a modern motorway, the old road remained
the primary scenic route for the county, popular with tourists and locals alike.
It was a winding road dotted with wineries, farms selling fresh produce, craft
and antique stores, and picturesque ocean view lookouts. The road surface was
not the best, but Levi artfully dodged the odd bump and pothole, determined to
stay on the Tacoma’s tail. He forced his mind away from memories of school
children and construction sites and fixated on the task at hand—coming to Cara’s
rescue. Failing simply wasn’t an option, fear was redundant. He had to make
this work, whatever it took.

The truck roared past farm gates,
fruit stands, cellar door sales, and quaint guesthouses, recklessly overtaking
the occasional scooter or rental car in its path. Levi rode hard, right on the
thief’s tail, so he was utterly surprised when the Tacoma suddenly swerved hard
right up a side road. Levi overshot the turnoff, swearing and banging his fist
on his thigh before pulling a wild U-turn just in time to see the police car
fishtail along the exit in pursuit of the truck. For the first time, he caught
a clear view of the uniformed driver and was at once grateful and a little
irked to find Brian Shepherd behind the wheel.

At
least the cop didn’t follow me and ditch the truck,
Levi
thought as he cranked the throttle, navigated the hairpin exit and followed the
strobing red and blue lights up the side road toward what a tourist sign told
him was Lighthouse Bay Lookout.

The road curled and climbed steeply
for a mile or so. It was hard to judge the exact distance at the crazy speeds
he was pushing. A glance at the speedometer placed the needle in the red zone. At
the same time, he saw the fuel warning light flicker, then glow steadily. This
chase needed to wind up really soon, or his engine would sputter and die and he’d
have to trust Brian to extricate Cara. Conceivable, but far from ideal. Could
this day get any worse?

A moment later, he wanted to kick
himself for asking.

He rode the bike over the crest,
ignoring the vast ocean vista and dividing his attention between his own
bearings and the movements of the truck as it hurtled down the slope toward the
observatory. He didn’t like what he saw. The lookout was essentially a football-field-sized
asphalt circle at the brink of a rocky outcrop. It was fenced flimsily to
discourage visitors from getting too close to the sheer cliff edge.

The luxury coach parked on the far
right was unloading elderly camera-laden tourists.

“Déjà vu,” Levi muttered, thinking
blackly that at least the human obstacles were slower moving this time round.

A fat trickle of sweat rolled down
his back.
Cara.

But that thought offered no
comfort. If the Tacoma didn’t slow down or change direction in the next thirty
or so seconds, it would go smashing through the fence and tumble down the rocky
cliff that dropped hundreds of feet below.

He couldn’t lose her. Not now when he’d
only just found her. He’d guessed the previous evening that she was “the one,” that
they were destined to be together. He could no more hold back the ugly truth
about himself last night than he could have stood by and let that bastard steal
her away in his truck today. He had needed to show her who he really was, needed
to know that she could accept the frightened, compromising dark side of his
soul as well as the more public, assured front.

And while it had been a harrowing
experience to wrench the story out of himself and lay himself bare for her, he
had never for a moment doubted her compassion and understanding. She was a
gentle soul. She would be kinder to him than he could ever be to himself. She
would forgive him where he couldn’t forgive himself. And she had. Although much
to his relief, she hadn’t said the words. In that moment, words would have been
inadequate. Instead, she had held him and taken him inside her body and loved
him like no other would or could.

They were soulmates, no question.
Whatever happened or didn’t happen, they belonged together—two halves of a
whole. And he was damned if he was going to let his other half be driven off a cliff
by a thieving maniac.

But how to stop them? He had maybe
twenty seconds to come up with a plan.

His brain whirled like a super
computer, but nothing useful tallied. He realized, as he swung the bike around
the last two downward curves, that if he didn’t hit the brakes soon, he would
go over the edge right after them.

Seventeen
seconds…

Once again, Levi shut down his
brain and handed the reins over to his heart. Against all common sense and
flying in the face of basic physics, he gunned the engine, dumped the gear
lever down a couple of clicks, and gave the 800CC engine everything it had. The
bike was howling like a herd of panicked horses, barely in his control as he fought
to overtake the police car.

Just
get to Cara.

He held his breath as he squealed
past the police car, almost connecting with its rear end as the car’s tires
slid and swung out from the gravel shoulder. He ignored the near miss that
would have killed him and focused on getting in front of the truck.

Twelve
seconds…

He overtook the truck, kicking up
rocks in the narrow, twisty space between the Tacoma and the rock wall he was
riding hard up against. He half expected the truck to steer hard right and mash
him into the cliff face, but he could see that scrawny guy’s attention was on
Cara, not the bike. Levi was still not sure how this nightmare was going to
play out, completely unprepared for a rocky death and equally unwilling to
write Cara off.