“Gorgeous and proud,” he said, letting go of her. “I like it. Give me your number and we’ll call it even.”
If he thought that he could use her pride against her like that, he was totally and completely wrong. “I don’t think so. Maybe I’ll see you at the music store sometime,” she said. She walked out of the diner, trying to clear her head with huge gulps of the cool March air. She got in the car and pulled out into the parking lot, trying to shake off the desire to put her hand on her hip—to feel the place where Walker’s fingers had been.
Deep in her subconscious, a warning flag waved at her, trying to get her attention. Something about the picture in her mind wasn’t right. She studied it—the curve of his palm against her jeans, the definition in his forearms, the way his bicep flexed the tiniest bit as he’d stopped her.
His bicep. His smooth, perfect, bicep . . .
There were no inky dots! No marks at all. Whatever she’d seen on his skin at the music store had disappeared without a trace. Again.
Keira started to pull out onto the street. She was so distracted, she didn’t even realize that someone had appeared in front of her car. She caught a glimpse of a guy in a strange, full-length coat; his crooked nose and haunted eyes peered out from beneath his hood. The world around her went dark. For a minute she couldn’t see the street, the buildings—nothing. Only some guy standing in front of her car.
Instinct took over. She jerked the wheel sharply to avoid hitting him and swung the car into traffic.
She didn’t look back to see if he was okay.
She couldn’t. Not after she’d noticed the SUV that was barreling toward her, skittering down the street in spite of its squealing brakes.
The squealing gave way to screaming as the seat belt locked tight against her chest and the crunch of metal against metal ripped through the car.
Chapter Seven
KEIRA STARED AT THE blue SUV that had smashed into the side of her car. Through the glittering remains of her window, she could see the metal of an enormous fender. A cracked headlight. The driver’s-side door of her car was pressed against her, the armrest handle shoved uncomfortably into her ribs. In front of her, the steering wheel jutted out at a jaunty angle, as though it had decided to glance out the passenger window.
She tried to sort through the jumble of events. She remembered twisting the wheel to avoid the fool who’d stepped in front of her car, and the SUV tearing down the street like a blue mountain on wheels. She remembered the pained, animal noise her door had made as the SUV slammed into it. The shock of the impact still screamed through her, like a fire alarm blaring long after the smoke has cleared.
Keira twisted around, searching for the hooded figure, but the street was empty except for cars. The parking lot, too.
Oh, shit, did I hit him? If he was lying on the ground, she wouldn’t be able to see him. Oh, God, please no.
The seat belt strained against her shoulder through the fabric of her coat. She reached down, fumbling for the buckle, when her passenger door flew open. Keira shrank away from the figure that slid into the car next to her, sure it was the guy from the street, or the driver of the SUV, ready to yell at her for pulling out into traffic. Instead, the smell of peat smoke and flint filled the car as Walker leaned over and unbuckled her seat belt.
“Did I hit him?” she whimpered.
“He hit you, looks like,” Walker said grimly.
“What? No—not the car. The guy. There was a guy—is there anyone on the ground?”
He frowned. “Keira, there’s no one else here but you and the other driver.” His eyes turned appraising. Suspicious. “Are you hurt?” he asked. His hands skimmed her shoulders and down her arms, like he was looking for an injury.
She shook her head. “I’m fine, I think.”
A squat man with a phone pressed against his ear climbed out of his car and peered at her through the broken window.
“ . . . just pulled right out into traffic,” he said.
He looked at Keira like she’d vomited on his shoes. “Police,” he said, pointing to the phone. “They want to know if we need an ambulance. You okay?”
She nodded. “Fine, I think.”
He looked down at her car. “The way this thing looks, I’d say you got damn lucky.”
Keira looked him over. “Are you okay?”
“Oh. Yeah. I had the airbags and all.” He turned his attention back to the phone. “She pulled out of the lot and there was no way to stop before I hit her.”
Free of her seat belt, Keira spun all the way around in her seat. “Did you see him? The guy in the weird coat? He didn’t go into the diner, did he?” She scanned the sidewalks.
“Weird coat?” Walker’s question was measured as a drumbeat.
“Yeah. Dark hooded coat, crooked nose. Dark eyes—kind of like yours, actually.”