Sal stood at Luke’s side, his face devoid of emotion. His black eyes glanced over Jane and, for a moment, they tensed and looked at her as if she was beneath him. A cold sensation hit the pit of her stomach. He’d never looked at her like that before; Jane wondered what she had done to earn a look like that.
Luke gave him a slight nod, and Sal gave Jane one final glance before he made his way through the crowd and disappeared out of the ballroom. “I’ll let you go for now, but you’ll have to get used to having people at your side at all times when you’re the president.” Luke took her by the elbow and walked her to the lobby.
Jane laughed. “You’re getting ahead of yourself. Let’s wait and see if I can survive my current term. I barely won my seat the first time.” When Luke and his friends had suggested that she run for the Senate under the American Federation Party, she never thought she’d actually win since the party was new and had few supporters. Luke, on the other hand, had had no doubts.
“I’ve never been wrong when it comes to situations like this. Mark my words, Jane. You will be the president of the United States.”
The words sent a chill through Jane. She should have been elated. Why did the chill feel like it was one of fear rather than excitement?
A light rain fell as she drove her silver Jaguar XF—a gift from Luke when she’d graduated from law school long ago—through the outskirts of Houston toward her home in the suburbs. Feeling light-headed, she turned on the air conditioning and directed the cool air toward her face. Grabbing her smartphone, she pressed a button and waited for the familiar beep.
“Play Mozart,” she instructed.
“Eine kleine Nachtmusik” filtered through the speakers as she drove along a winding road. The car’s headlights bounced off the glass of the office buildings she passed. As she stared down the highway, fighting to keep awake, she saw a streetlight flickering in the distance. When she passed it, the light intensified and then went back to normal. She then saw another light doing the same thing—flicker, grow brighter, then back to normal—as she drove past it.
I must’ve drunk more than I thought. She slapped her cheeks lightly.
The phone rang, and she jumped, startled. Glancing down, she saw the name “Luke Prescott” written across the screen.
Everything seemed to happen all at once. A massive weight pressed down on her chest, and for a second she thought she was having a heart attack. The pressure spread as if enclosing her entire body in a cocoon, protecting her. It was the same feeling she had had thirty-five years ago, just before the plane had crashed. There was a screech of tires, and a rush of adrenaline swept through her. The last thing she saw before blacking out was a dancing horse barreling toward her.
Chapter 4
Lash watched the tall redhead as she searched the smoke-filled room. The only illumination came from the string of lights that lined the stage, where a couple of her co-workers worked the pole. It was late in the afternoon, and business was slow, except for the group of retired old men that were the bar’s regulars. When her eyes wandered to the back corner of the room and locked with his, he smirked at the obvious lust written across her face as she took in the black t-shirt that molded his sculpted chest, faded, torn jeans hugging his hips, and wild, dark hair.
Lash broke into a smile as she sauntered toward him. His eyes traveled over her body, taking in the long curves of her legs, leopard pastie-covered breasts, and the dollar-lined thong that hugged her waist, leaving little to the imagination. He stood to meet her when a hand slammed against his shoulder and shoved him back down into his seat.
“Gabrielle,” he growled. “How did you find me?”
“Get away, sister. This one is mine,” the redhead said as she eyed Gabrielle.
Gabrielle looked at the redhead and frowned. Shaking her head, she took off her leather jacket and tossed it to the girl. “Leave this place and don’t return.”
The redhead blinked, looking confused.
Gabrielle leaned in toward her and whispered, “You’ll find a better job tomorrow. I promise.”
Stunned, the redhead simply nodded, put on Gabrielle’s jacket, and walked out the door.
“Michael doesn’t like it when you use your Jedi mind tricks on humans.” Lash wagged a finger.
Gabrielle yanked out a chair and wiped it down with a napkin before she sat. “Thirty-five years on Earth and the most you’ve accomplished is an in-depth knowledge of George Lucas films. Nice.”
“Let’s call it an anthropological study of human nature.” Lash smirked as he lifted his drink.
Gabrielle frowned. “You defile your body as well as your mind.”
“I’d think you’d find it entertaining.”
“I have more important things to do than watch you wallow in your self-created misery.”
“What? You don’t care if I fall to the dark side?” Lash feigned wide-eyed innocence. “I’m hurt.”
“I don’t know what Raphael sees in you. I’m wasting my time here.”
“If you don’t plan to take off those clothes and dance around that pole over there, then, yes, I would say you are.”
Her eyes turned cold. “Barbarian.”