Josh managed to get the door open without too much trouble. He didn’t step from the car, but sort of fell out, just losing his balance for a moment. His knees hit the pavement, and he looked down at himself briefly, expecting to see blood or a severed limb. There was nothing. He was unscathed.
The driver of the black sedan had gotten out as well and was shouting at him. He was a middle-aged suit: perfectly combed hair, thin build, and obviously pissed off.
Derek Allen.
Fuck. The signal.
Josh put his hands up in the universal nonthreatening “sorry, man” gesture, but Allen kept coming. Kept in character, putting on a little show for the crowd who’d gathered.
“What the hell were you doing? It was a stoplight. Are you a complete idiot?”
“Dude, I’m sorry. It was my fault. I looked away for half a second. Are you okay?”
That calmed the man down a bit.
“Please tell me you have insurance.”
“Of course I have insurance. And I’m sure it will cover all the damage to your car.”
Speaking of which . . . Josh walked to the front of the Audi, which had held its basic shape, even though the bumper and hood were mashed in. The sedan they’d hit was barely scratched, just a tiny dent where the Audi’s fog lights had dug into the bumper. The sunlight sparkled in a deep scrape on the Audi’s hood. Down to the metal. To the bone.
The fucker.
Josh looked at the sedan’s minimal damage and shook his head. Aubrey had gotten out of the car now, and was looking forlornly at the front fender and hood.
“Oh, Josh. Our baby.”
Allen’s head whipped around. “You’re pregnant?”
She shook her head. “No, not me. The car. It’s our baby.”
The flustered look dropped from his face, and he smiled. “Oh. I was . . . Never mind.”
“We should probably call the police,” Aubrey said.
Allen shook his head vehemently. “No, no, no need for all that. I’ll just take your information. My car won’t need much work. I can probably push that dent out. And if I have to pay to get it fixed, well, I trust you. You seem like a nice young couple.”
A car horn sounded; traffic was starting to jam up.
“Why don’t we push your car over onto the shoulder and get you out of the way?”
Out of the way. Josh realized his hands were shaking. What the fuck kind of message was this supposed to be, anyway?
Josh felt the sweat trickle down the small of his back, not -entirely sure if it was from heat or frustration.
Allen continued his ministrations. “Why don’t I call you a tow? I know a good one nearby, he’ll treat you fairly.”
Aubrey shook her head—she was never one to take help when she didn’t absolutely have to have it. “We appreciate that, sir, but I’ve already called AAA.”
Josh bit his tongue—actually, sliding a twenty at a random tow truck operator sounded much more appealing than waiting for God knew how long for the AAA folks to show, but Aubrey had already shaken Allen’s hand and wagged her phone at him. Responsible Aubrey, always on top of things.
As much as it burned him to see Allen touching his wife, he had to admit, she was working her magic on him. He’d gone from furious to *cat in a matter of moments, as soon as Aubrey stepped from the car. He was always amazed at her effect on people.
“Well then. I guess it’s time for me to go. Sorry again for your troubles.” He tipped an imaginary hat at Aubrey, then turned to Josh. He put his hand on Josh’s shoulder and propelled him three feet away. Josh’s dad had done that when he was growing up. It usually preceded a lesson, the hard way, the kind that ended in a belt. But Derek Allen just leaned his head in, smiled a vulpine smile, and said, “Just in case you were having second thoughts, I felt I needed to make a point. Don’t even think about fucking this up for me. You see what I can do? One heartbeat, Hamilton, and it’s over. Besides, I couldn’t have you driving your own car to the meet, now could I? You have two hours. Do this right, or so help me God, I’ll kill her.”
He turned on his heel, got in the car, and drove off.
Josh watched him go, his heart beating triple time. He turned to Aubrey. She didn’t seem to be paying attention to the interplay. She stood in front of the wrecked Audi, staring at the front end of the car. She had blood running down her chin, about to ruin her beautiful pink dress. That snapped him back to reality.
“Oh, shit, Aubrey, you’re bleeding.”
She wiped her lip with a grimace, then wrenched her gaze to his. “I think I bit my lip, that’s all. I’m really fine, I promise.” She glanced down at her chest, rubbed her shoulder. “I’m going to have a bruise, though.”
He looked at her lips closely, the gash in her soft flesh. He couldn’t do this to her.
He swallowed hard. “It needs stitches. Honey, I am so sorry.” Sorrier than you will ever know.