The freezing rain instantly soaked through Alayna's silk blouse, sticking it to her skin. Blinded by water, she stumbled across the flooded street, her hands shaking so hard she could barely grip the door handle of her Porsche.
She yanked the door open and collapsed into the driver's seat, gasping for air.
Water dripped from her hair into her eyes. She slammed her thumb against the ignition.
The engine roared to life. She pressed her foot down, the tires spinning on the wet asphalt before catching traction and shooting the car forward into the dark, storm-swept streets.
On the passenger seat, her phone buzzed relentlessly against the leather console.
JORDON (8 MISSED CALLS)
The constant ringing drilled into her skull, bringing a fresh wave of nausea.
Alayna grabbed the phone, her wet thumb swiping to power it off. The slick glass slipped from her fingers, bouncing off her knee and dropping into the footwell beneath the pedals.
She cursed under her breath, leaning down for a split second to reach for it.
Her eyes left the road.
Ahead, the traffic lights at the flooded intersection short-circuited, flashing yellow.
A massive commercial truck barreled through the intersection, ignoring the lights. Its blinding high beams flooded the interior of the Porsche, turning the cabin into a wall of white glare.
Alayna snapped her head up. A scream ripped from her throat.
She jerked the steering wheel hard to the right. The tires hit a sheet of standing water and lost all traction.
The Porsche spun out of control, tires screeching, before slamming sideways into a solid concrete barrier.
The airbags deployed with a loud pop, the coarse fabric slapping her in the face and chest, snapping her head back against the headrest.
Everything went black.
Minutes later, a sharp, stabbing pain in her ribs dragged Alayna back to consciousness.
Warm blood trickled down her forehead, running into her left eye and blurring her vision.
Thick black smoke poured from the crumpled hood. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline filled the air. Sparks hissed as the rain hit the exposed battery wiring.
Panic hit her chest. Alayna shoved both hands against the driver's door, pushing with all her remaining strength. The metal frame was crushed inward, completely jammed. Her legs were pinned beneath the collapsed dashboard.
Through the roar of the rain, the low rumble of a heavy motorcycle cut down the street.
The bike skidded to a halt near the wreckage. A tall man in a black leather jacket swung his leg off the seat. A full-face helmet concealed his features, but he didn't hesitate for a second.
He sprinted straight toward the smoking car.
He grabbed the door handle and yanked. The metal groaned but held fast.
Reaching down to his belt, he pulled out a steel window punch and slammed it against the corner of the driver's window. The glass spiderwebbed instantly. He pulled his fist back and punched through the center, clearing away the jagged shards with his gloved hand.
He leaned half his body into the cabin.
Through the smoke, Alayna caught the scent of rain, motor oil, and a sharp trace of peppermint.
His large hand reached across her chest, searching for the seatbelt release. He pressed the button hard, but the mechanism was jammed solid.
Without missing a beat, he pulled a combat knife from his boot and sliced straight through the thick nylon strap.
Flames suddenly flared beneath the hood, crawling rapidly toward the fuel line.
"Hang on to me," a low, gravelly voice said through the helmet.
He slid his arms under her shoulders. With explosive strength, he hauled her entire body out through the broken window frame.
He scooped her up against his chest and broke into a dead sprint away from the vehicle.
They made it barely twenty yards before the Porsche's gas tank detonated.
A deafening boom shook the ground, the heat and shockwave hitting them from behind.
In the fraction of a second before they hit the pavement, the man twisted his body in mid-air. He took the brunt of the fall onto his own back, wrapping himself around her to shield her from the flying debris and heat.
Alayna lay pinned against his chest. Beneath his wet shirt, she could hear the heavy, steady thud of his heart.
He pushed himself up immediately, lifted her back into his arms, and carried her under the dry awning of a closed storefront.
He stripped off his heavy leather jacket and wrapped it tightly around her shivering shoulders.
Tossing his helmet aside, he pulled a phone from his pocket and dialed 911. His voice was a calm, low bark, giving their exact cross streets with clear authority.
Alayna forced her heavy eyelids open.
A faint, jagged scar cut across the skin just above his left eyebrow. His dark eyes were intense, completely focused on her face.
Her lips parted, but only a cold gasp escaped.
He dropped the phone and took her freezing hand in his. With his thumb, he gently wiped the blood away from her eye.
"Hey. Stay with me," his voice was a rough, quiet growl. "Look at me. Keep your eyes open."
The distant wail of ambulance sirens finally pierced the storm.
Hearing the steady calm in his voice, the tension holding Alayna together snapped. Her head rolled against his chest, and she slipped back into the dark.
