Passion's Mistral Read Online Free PDF Page B

Altoona but I’m on my way to Davenport for a
    meeting.”
    “Fay O’Reilly,” she supplied. “Davenport sounds good.”
    Her companion was quiet for a moment then cleared his throat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him
    gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles had bled of color.
    “Look here,” he said, clearing his throat before he continued. “If you need some money to help you—”
    “That’s what I figured!” Fay hissed. “Just pull over and let me out right now!”
    She saw his head swivel toward her. “Ma’am, I think you misunderstood me,” he said quickly.
    “Stop the damned car and let me out!” she shouted.
    Lynden put on his turn signal and slid cautiously onto the breakdown lane. He glanced in the rearview
    mirror as he braked then put on his emergency blinkers. Even before the car stopped moving, Fay was
    fumbling at the door handle.
    “Now, wait just a minute!” Lynden growled, reaching for Fay’s arm. Her response to his touch stunned
    them both—the crack of her palm meeting his face echoed through the car.
    The fiery red handprint on her companion’s left cheek could be seen clearly even in the dismal light cast
    from the storm. As rivulets of water cascaded down the windshield, thunder rumbled overhead and
    lightning flared around them, the wind buffeted the idling car, rocking it as traffic skirled by on the
    superhighway. It seemed the bottom had fallen out of the sky for the volume of the rain suddenly
    increased.
    “You know I believe we’re on the edge of a wall cloud,” Lynden said in an uneasy voice.
    Fay blinked. “A tornado?”
    “Just listen,” he said.
    Off in the distance, there was a low droning sound that might well be coming from the train tracks running
    parallel to the interstate. Driver and passenger looked at one another.
    “We’re not that far from an overpass,” Lynden said. “I believe we’d better make for it.”
    Nodding her acceptance, Fay kept her fingers wrapped around the door handle as her companion eased
    the town car back onto the highway. She realized he hadn’t turned off the emergency blinkers and that
    his face was strained in the glow from the dashboard lights.
    “I don’t like bad weather,” Fay commented.
    “It’s all right as long as you’re inside a sturdy building,” Lynden stated, “but I don’t care for it at all when
    I’m out driving in it.”
    The rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers was so fast their movement was giving Fay a queasy feeling as
    she tried to peer out the glass. There was limited visibility and the flare of lightning pulses further obscured
    the highway.
    “The overpass should be just up ahead. Let’s hope nobody else is parked under it,” Lynden said.
    The droning sound was getting louder, the rumble of a runaway train coming at them from the south side
    of the interstate.
    “Hurry,” Fay said.
    Barely able to see the lane in which he was driving, Lynden hunched over the steering wheel and reached
    up to wipe away the condensation that was forming on the windshield. He glanced at his passenger when
    she slid toward him and used the sleeve of her blouse to help clear the fogged area.
    Fay could feel the car shuddering beneath her rump. The wind was shrieking so loudly she couldn’t hear
    her companion’s words but she realized he was pointing toward a dark shape just up ahead. She
    nodded.
    One moment they were rolling to a stop beneath the overpass, the next Bradford Lynden was shoving
    her out the passenger door, scurrying after her then pulling her with him up the concrete incline and under
    the soaring rafters. Wind and flying debris were pummeling them, stinging their flesh and blinding them as
    they climbed as high as the concrete slope would allow. A deafening roar drowned out any other sound
    as Lynden pulled her head against his chest, arched his upper body over hers and wrapped his legs
    around her hips. Wedged tightly into the triangular section of concrete between