"Get in," a familiar furious voice commanded. I grinned, elated.
It was amazing how instantaneously the choking fear vanished, amazing how suddenly the feeling of security washed over me—even before I was off the street—as soon as I heard His voice. I jumped into186 the seat, slamming the door shut behind me.
It was dark in the car, no light had come on with the opening of the door, and I could barely see his face in the glow from the dashboard. The tires squealed as he spun around to face north, accelerating quickly, too quickly, swerving toward the stunned men on the street. I caught a glimpse of them diving for the sidewalk as we straightened out and sped toward the harbor.
"Put on your seat belt," he commanded, and I realized I was clutching the seat with both hands. I quickly obeyed; the snap as the belt connector connected with the clasp was loud in the darkness. He took a sharp left, racing forward, blowing through several stop signs without a pause.
But I felt utterly safe and, for a moment, totally unconcerned about where we were going. I stared at his face in profound relief, relief that went beyond my sudden deliverance from gang rape. I studied his flawless Continental features in the limited light, waiting for my breath to return to normal, until it occurred to me that his expression was murderously angry.
"Are you okay?" I asked, surprised how hoarse my voice sounded.
186. onto