25. Luke

The car rammed us from behind.

More than a tap, enough to send our wheels skidding slightly on the flooding road. My heart flew into my throat as I was jostled forward, more shocked than injured.

"Are you okay?" Elijah ground out.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I sputtered. "What the hell's going on?"

I heard revving from behind us and then a sharp crack.

Elijah cursed softly as we were struck again—but I was expecting it this time. I kept my attention glued on him, noting his clenched jaw and focused gaze. His short, fast breaths. The windshield wipers could barely stay on top of the rain, and I was keenly aware of how close to the edge of the road we were. A rural road without guardrails or fences that led straight into the murky waters of the ocean.

Lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a clap of thunder that sounded directly above us. The car was following close behind, and every time it got close it forced Elijah to increase our speed.

I twisted to face him, one hand clenched around the head rest. He swore again and a bead of sweat glistened on his temple. "We were followed out here and I didn't fucking realize it," he spat out. "And now they want us to know."

Another impact slammed into us. This time it was hard enough to send my shoulder into the side door. I grabbed it with a wince but dropped it when I saw Elijah's intense focus fracture. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel and he kept darting glances my way.

"It's nothing, really. Elijah, don't worry about me. How can I help?"

"By not getting hurt."

I reached for his wrist and wrapped my fingers around it. His pulse was wild, thready. I stroked my thumb in circles, a paltry attempt to soothe at a moment like this but I couldn't have resisted if I tried.

"I won't get hurt," I said. "How can I help?"

The car flooded with light again and I braced myself. This time they hit our back bumper so hard that Elijah had to spin the wheel in circles to get us back under control.

"Try to get cell service and call 911," he finally said. I reached for our phones, but both had a big no service flashing across the screen.

"No dice," I said.

Elijah nodded, throat bobbing as he swallowed.

"Do you want me to keep touching you?" I asked quietly.

Thunder boomed as we hit a pothole, sending us flying. My heart was racing so fast that spots danced at the edges of my vision. But I couldn't tear my eyes away from Elijah. Out of fear. Out of admiration. Out of the deep thrumming in my chest that grew louder and louder with every passing minute I spent with this man.

"Luke," he gasped—and I realized I'd released him in the fray. I reached for his thigh and gripped it. His lashes fluttered and he inhaled long and slow. Then his expression shifted into one of alarm. "Luke, hold?—"

They hit us so hard that the car whipped into a tailspin. The world became a jarring blur of lights and bile rose in my throat. A second later we were motionless—but only for a second, because Elijah was driving us forward, tires spinning out, then back onto the narrow road. The other car was still behind us, still flashing their brights with such intensity I thought I might be sick.

Past the road, waves roared and slapped in the churning of the storm and a cold sweat dripped down my spine. I closed my eyes for a few dizzying seconds and tried to remember my emergency safety training—made difficult by the shriek of adrenaline and panic that wouldn't let my thoughts settle.

Just the passing thought that Elijah could be hurt in any way had the panic multiplying, so forcefully that I reached for his leg again. He accelerated, trying to escape the danger stalking us like a pack of howling wolves. But each acceleration had the tires wobbling, spraying water and mud as he wrenched the wheel around turns in the misty darkness.

And it was the final strike—so forceful, so obviously deliberate—that sent us to the very edge of the road. Elijah braked but it was no match for the slick slope. We careened up and over, the car sliding down the bank and another, steeper cliff.

Icy fear had such a grip on my throat I couldn't fucking breathe. Could barely think. But I'd been trained so thoroughly for a reason, a reason our survival teachers had drilled into us over and over again. If the worst happens, there will be no time for thinking, only doing.

I pushed to roll my window down and felt for Elijah's hand, squeezing hard as the front of the car struck the water. A nanosecond after impact, before shock or pain or panic could take hold, I was moving. Shucked my seat belt and immediately released Elijah's. He was holding his side and grimacing, a sheen of sweat on his face.

"We have to go," I said sharply. "Now, before too much water gets in."

His breathing was ragged. "Luke."

I lurched across the seat to examine him, too aware of the rising water outside my lowered window. "What is it…your ribs? Your stomach? Did you hit your head?" My fingers danced across his body, searching for blood, for a wound, for anything that would make this more challenging.

"Ribs…I think," he bit out.

"Okay, okay, okay." I whipped around. Saw the water flowing into the open window now. Waves were sliding up onto the hood, lapping at the windshield. I knew how little time we had left before we sank completely. "I'm climbing out and you'll follow me. And then I'm gonna swim us both to shore."

His forehead creased. Another wince when he tried to move. I touched his chin until his eyes opened, and I flashed him my biggest, cockiest grin. "Aren't you lucky your client is a renowned water sports instructor? I could do this rescue in my sleep."

Water flowed over my feet, and I beat back my own panic as much as I could.

A tiny smile tugged at his lips. "I am lucky to know you. Extremely lucky."

I tossed him a wink. "There's no time for you to be this cute." The car lurched forward and I fought the urge to scream. "Come on, sweetheart. We gotta move."

I moved backward, hooking my legs out the window and into stormy-cold ocean water. Kicking my legs to stay afloat, I turned and held an arm out, grateful beyond measure when he clasped it, his grip strong. He moved with obvious pain while water rushed past him, rising higher and higher. With a pull, he slid through the window and into my waiting arms.

Rain drenched us and I could hardly see, but I managed to hook an arm around Elijah and start swimming us to shore. A small wave crested over our heads and we were briefly under. Now that we were in the open ocean, my panic subsided. This one thing I could do and had been doing for more than a decade now. Still, the cold had my muscles locking up and Elijah's extra weight didn't help. He'd shucked his jacket, but my own sweatshirt hung heavy off my neck.

"You keep…you keep calling me that," Elijah said, teeth chattering. "Sweetheart."

We'd just survived our car being forced off a cliff, so my ability to feel embarrassed had disappeared along with my phone and probably my wallet too.

"Well, yeah," I teased. "Who's sweeter than you?"

Elijah coughed out a laugh, then winced. "Not one of my"—he spit out ocean water—"many attributes."

"Bullshit." I scoffed.

"Workaholic," he panted. "Too uptight, probably. Not sweet. Not cute either."

I was out of breath too but could make out the shore. "Look up both words in the dictionary and you'll find your picture next to them."

He gave another weak laugh but at least he was distracted. "You're a strong swimmer," he said.

"Don't I know it. And I'm handsome too."

"Humility. One of your top three virtues."

"You know," I said, "now that we've seen each other naked, I feel like I can be fully honest here." Our feet touched sand, and I felt him sag against me with relief. "I'm not especially virtuous."

"Don't I know it," he echoed. "It's why I like you."

I was amid a heroic rescue in a storm, having just been run off the road by a furious mystery threat, and I still managed to blush at those words.

We staggered onto the beach. Between the rain and the ocean, I'd forgotten what it was like to be dry. Would, in fact, never be dry again. But I didn't want us standing still in this cold, so I kept an arm around Elijah's waist and pointed us back toward the road.

"Is it helpful to point out that we're officially oh-for-two when it comes to cars? I don't think we'll be able to drive that one home."

Elijah sucked in a breath. "And our goddamn phones too." His head shot up and I could feel him scanning for danger around us. "I don't see the other car anymore, do you?"

"No. I don't think a lot of people drive someone off the road into a watery grave and then wait around for a while."

A shudder racked Elijah's body. I clutched him closer and eyed him as we made our way up the beach steps. He caught me staring and tried to pull away, which only made me tighten my grip.

"I can walk, you know."

"I do know. Just as I knew you were gonna say that." I shoved the wet hair off my face. "Do you ever let people help you when you need it?"

He scowled. "I don't."

"But what if you did?"

There was a house in the distance, less than a quarter mile away. The storm was relentless and there wasn't a single car on the road—no sign of our attacker, but not of anyone else either. I pointed us in that direction and Elijah grunted in response.

"You shouldn't have had to rescue me, Luke," he said. "Shouldn't have…Christ, I drove us off the fucking road and you had to pull me from the car. This is what I do for a living and all I've done is fail you."

I would have stopped us in the road to kiss him senseless if we weren't drenched to the skin and freezing. I pressed a kiss to his cheek instead and he turned, eyes full of an emotion too complex for me to name.

"You didn't drive us off the road, we were forced. I know you think you can control everything?—"

"Luke—"

"Elijah…" I said, drawing his attention again. "I know you think you can control everything down to the very last detail, but it's not possible. And I understand the impulse. Trust me, I do. There were whole years after my mom died where I did the same thing, hoping it would mean I could prevent losing someone again the way that I lost her. I couldn't though, and I can't. Neither can you."

He shoved his own wet hair back. "You told me you trusted me, and this is part of that trust. I keep you safe from harm."

"Well, it just so happens that what I do for a living is swim. A lot. In rougher waves than these, hauling much heavier pieces of equipment than you. And years spent thrill-seeking mean I've taken plenty of survival courses and wilderness first aid classes. I can't run a company. I can't get my brother to like me. I certainly can't figure out who's trying to hurt us. But contrary to what my entire family thinks, I do have actual skills. This is one of them. You need to trust me too."

Elijah didn't respond as we neared the house, though he did go swiftly back into bodyguard mode, approaching like an attack was imminent. We'd gotten lucky—most waterfront properties in the Hamptons had security cameras and high fences. But this little house looked like an old family fishing cabin, with a sign that said Hello Happy Campers and a welcome mat that said "Don't forget to wipe your paws!"

There was no vehicle in the driveway and everything was dark, but I still knocked loudly on the door as we shivered beneath the awning.

After a minute of no response, I kicked over a potted plant and found an extra key.

"We need a place to crash and a phone that works," I said. "This'll do."

He cocked an eyebrow. "We're adding breaking and entering to the list of everything that's gone wrong on this trip?"

I slid the key in the lock and paused to listen. Sent him a grin. "Don't you wanna prove all those people calling you uptight wrong?"

His eyes darted between the door and the horrifying weather. Another racking shiver worked through him and he winced with a hiss. A burst of protectiveness rushed through me. Pushing open the door with my shoulder, I revealed a dim but cozy space, fireplace and all.

"Nope, we're doing this," I said firmly. "You boss me around twenty-four seven so now I'm returning the favor. Get the hell in here. And I'm not askin'."

Exasperation gave way to acceptance…and then a flash of heat burned in his gaze. "As you wish, my liege."

I cocked my head. "Inside, smartass."