The Preacher's Son #3: Unbroken (Erotic Romance) (3 page)

I happened to glance in the side mirror, and saw red and blue lights flashing far behind us. "I think you'd best gun it, Tre. And find a side road to pull off."

He didn't ask questions. He saw it, too. The engine roared and the vehicle bolted forward. We were already going nearly seventy, but when Tre floored it, the car jumped forward hard enough to squeal the tires and fishtail before he got it under control. The flashing lights fell away behind us, the empty road speeding past us in a green blur. A county road split across the highway ahead of us, and Tre slowed down, then jammed the brakes, spun the wheel, and gunned the engine again. The Aston Martin turned into a sideways slide, hit gravel, tires spitting, and rocketed forward, still on an angle. Tre righted the car again, slowing enough to let the back end straighten, and then powered the car forward. We heard a siren now. We were kicking up dust, and I knew we had to get off the dirt road.

I'd never run from a police car before, and I knew Tre hadn't either. My heart was pounding in my chest.

"We've gotta get off the dirt, Tre," I said. "It's leading him straight to us."

Tre just nodded. After half a mile or so, we came across a parallel highway and Tre pulled onto it, turning north, rather than back south. The engine roared and I watched the speedometer hit one hundred within seconds. Another county road dissected the highway and Tre turned onto it, eastward now. I twisted in my seat, scanning for the lights of the pursuing cruiser. I didn't see it, but kept watching anyway.

Tre wound his way from county road to highway in a maze of random turns, driving at reckless speeds. Eventually I knew we'd lost our pursuit. I pointed to a turn-off on the county road we were travelling, and Tre pulled over.

"We're clear," I said, flopping back in the seat.

Tre unclenched his hands from the wheel and fell back as well, scrubbing his face.

"Holy shit," he breathed.

"Holy shit is right," I said, then laughed. "Déjà vu."

We both cracked up in uncontrollable then, flushed with the hysteria of post-adrenaline rush. 

"Does this mean we're fugitives, now?" Tre asked.

I couldn't tell if he was panicked or not.

"Possibly," I said. "I find it hard to believe Dan would call the cops, since he's not exactly always operated on the legal side of things, but when it comes to this car, anything's possible."

"I know this is an expensive car," Tre said, "but exactly how expensive?"

I laughed. "Tre, this car is worth almost half a million dollars. Three hundred thousand, easily."

"Fuck," Tre said. "That's a lot of money."

"It's more than most people make in two or three years. Especially down here." I glanced at Tre. "I don't think you understand how bad it will have pissed Dan off to know we took his car. This thing is his one true love. If he catches us, he'll kill us, now."

"And you said he could find us, wherever we went?"

I nodded. "Pretty much. I might be able to work out a deal with him, though."

"What kind of deal?"

"I'm pretty sure he'd do anything to get his car back intact. I'll contact Dan when we get to the coast. Tell him we have his car and we'll tell him where it is if he swears to leave us alone."

"Think it'll work?" Tre put the car back into drive and found the nearest highway.

I shrugged. "It's worth a try. It'll buy us time to get away, at least. There's no guarantee he'll keep his word once he has it back, though."

Tre blew out a long breath between his teeth. "What'd we do, Shea?"

I laughed. "Made an enemy?"

"I guess we did." He scrubbed his face with his palm. "So now what? Where do we go?"

I shook my head. "I'm not sure. I was thinking south, to the Gulf? Or the Caribbean? The money I stole from Dan is an account in the Bahamas. We could go there, get some cash and figure something out."

"You mean like really go all fugitive? Get fake identities and all that?"

I laughed. "Well, I hadn't thought of that, but sure. It's not a bad idea, actually. I wouldn't know the first thing about where to start, but we could figure it out together."

"Well that's it, then, I guess." Tre slammed his hand into the steering wheel.

I took one of his hands in mine. "You know there's no going back from this, Tre."

He just laughed. "Shea, there was no going back for me a long time ago. I was done for the moment I followed you up the hill behind my dad's church."

"Done for how?" I asked.

The silence was sudden, tense, and thick.

"Just done for. That's all. I couldn't go back to the way I was. 'Specially after you let me in your house." He glanced at me; he was evading, and I let him. "You was wearing this little sundress. I think you was the sexiest thing I ever seen, right then. 'Course, I ain't seen you naked, then."

I smiled. "Your accent is back." I rubbed my thumb on his knuckles. "You know what that means?"

"Nuh-uh," he said. "I mean, no."

"It means you're not answering my question."

He shifted in the seat and looked in the rearview mirror rather than at me. "I thought we wasn't—weren't, I mean—putting things in boxes."

"Things have changed a bit since I said that." I threaded my fingers into his. "I don't just mean our circumstances."

"Then what do you mean?"

I shook my head. "Nope. You first."

"God, Shea. You're killing me, here." He lifted our joined hands and scratched the side of his nose with a thumbnail, then kissed the back of my hand. "You really wanna have this talk now?"

"Can you think of a better time? Are you scared?"

He nodded. "A little, yeah. I don't know what's happening, what we're going to do. We're kind of stuck together now. And no, I guess now's as good a time as any."

"Is that a bad thing? Being stuck with me?"

Tre furrowed his brow. "'Course not. There ain't—isn't—anyone I'd rather be stuck with. Not in the whole world."

My heart skipped a beat. "But you don't know that many people."

"Don't need to. Just need to know you."

"And you don't mind that I'm an old lady?" I grinned to make it a joke, but he saw past it.

"Not if you don't mind that I'm a snot-nosed kid."

"Seriously, though. Does the age difference bother you?" I asked.

It was a question that had bothered me for a while but had never mustered the courage to ask.

He shrugged. "Not really. I mean, there's differences, I guess, sure. But they don't usually bother me. I don't like thinking about you with anyone else, but I know you have, and that's a part of who you are. I know there's gotta be times when I seem young to you. I know I grew up under a rock, and there's a lot I don't know about."

"Yeah, but you're good at what matters."

"Ravaging you?" He grinned.

I slapped his shoulder. "Be serious for a second," I laughed. "Yes, that too. But I meant other things. You may have grown up under a very small rock, but you know how to take care of me. You protect me. I feel safe with you. You may not be wise in the ways of the world, but you're there for me when I need you."

"How could I not be?" Tre asked. "You're amazing. I still don't know what you see in me, but if you want to be with me, I ain't gonna argue."

I stared out the window. This was turning intense.

"I see you," I said, after a long silence. "You're not just a sheltered preacher's son. You're so much more than that."

His answer was quiet. "I am now, at least."  

"You always have been, Tre."

We drove south in silence after that, fingers twined.

The Gulfport-Biloxi International Airport was hot, humid, and crowded. Tre had parked Dan's Aston Martin in the farthest corner of the bottom level of a long-term parking structure. The top was up, the doors locked. We took the key with us and locked it in a storage locker. My plan was to fly to Nassau and contact Dan there. I'd sent the key for the storage locker, which in turn had the key to Dan's car, by mail to Dan's casino in Atlantic City.

It wasn't a great plan, and I could see a lot of flaws in it, but it was the best I could come up with at the last minute.

We paid cash for two first class tickets to Nassau. The first class lounge was an amazing place, to a backwater country kid like Tre. We didn't dare entirely relax, yet, though, so we didn't drink. I'd feel safer once we got to Nassau.

The plane boarded, and we took our seats. It was crowded flight, every seat filled. Once we were airborne, Tre looked at me, and then the small bathroom, and then back at me. He wiggled his eyebrows. I looked around me at the packed seats, all the people. I felt a rush of excitement at the thought of sneaking into the bathroom with Tre. I'd never done anything like that before. For all my life experiences, I'd never done anything risky or potentially embarrassing. I'd run away with a perfect stranger, but that was different. I'd been suffocating in Savannah. Sex with Tre was always great, and I could imagine the thrill of doing it in a public bathroom.

The "fasten seat belts" light was off, so I stood up and moved past Tre to the aisle.

As I passed him, I leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "Wait a few minutes, then come in."

We'd both changed clothes in the airport, and I was wearing a calf-length skirt with a sleeveless blouse. I made my way to the bathroom, closed the door behind me, but didn't lock it. I slipped my panties off and balled them in my fist, then waited for Tre.

Was I really going to do this? In the bathroom of an airliner? Oh, my lord, yes. I most assuredly was. I felt a wet heat spreading between my thighs, damp desire. I lifted the hem of my skirt up and pressed my finger to my clit, and a lightning bolt struck. I pictured Tre, naked and eyes blazing, defending me. My circling finger sped up, and I had to lean back against the wall for support, my knees buckling from pleasure.

I was near climax when I heard the door latch moving and dropped my skirt, in case it wasn't Tre. It was, and his eyes were dark with desire. He locked the door behind him, and I wasted no time getting his shorts down around his ankles and his already-hard cock in my fist.

I turned him to sit on the toilet, hiked my skirt around my hips and lowered myself onto him, facing away. He speared into me, and I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out as he slid deep inside me.

"God, you're so wet," he breathed in my ear.

I leaned back as far as I could, nipped his earlobe as he thrust into me, swiftly and silently. "I was touching myself, thinking of you," I said.

He grunted in reply, kissing my neck. His fingers slid up my belly, underneath my blouse and tugged the cup of my bra down, accessing my nipple. His other hand skimmed down and touched my clit. I turned my face into his, pressing my lips against his rough-stubbled cheek.

His thrusts were slow and powerful, and I could feel how close he was, already, thick and throbbing within me. His finger sliced in fiery circles around my aching clit, driving me to silent, searing orgasm. He gritted his teeth together so hard I could hear them creaking in his jaw; his fingers pincered around my nipple as he came, and I gasped out loud, and Tre's hand slid from my pussy to my mouth, silencing me as I whimpered. His seed flooded my walls and his fingers rolled my nipple, his hand across my mouth smelling of my musk, mingling with the dank scent of the airliner bathroom.

When he finally stopped his frantic plunging into me, I stood up. He reached for the toilet paper as I did, and he cleaned me with tenderness that took my breath away. As odd and unappealing as it seemed, there in the tiny, smelly bathroom of a passenger jet was when I realized the truth of my feelings for Tre. He cleaned me after our lovemaking, carefully and thoroughly, and something about that intimate action broke down the last of my resistance to him.

I gazed down at him, letting my emotion show through my eyes. He saw it, and opened his mouth to speak, but I silenced him with a kiss.

"Not now, Tre," I whispered. "Wait, and then come out."

I still had my panties stuffed in one fist. I handed them to Tre with a grin, and then adjusted my skirt, smoothed my ruffled hair, and left the bathroom. I found my seat and pretended to be absorbed in the celebrity gossip magazine I'd brought with me. A minute or two later, Tre resumed his seat by the aisle. I'm pretty sure we earned a few knowing smirks and snickers, but none of the flight attendants approached us.

When we were comfortable and it seemed no one was going to throw us out of the plane mid-flight, Tre turned to me and leveled a look that told me he wanted to talk.

"In the bathroom," he began, "you seemed—"

"Yes, things are changing, for me," I cut in. "When we first started out, I wasn't sure what it was between us. Honestly, at first, I just wanted you. You're so hot, so different from anything I've ever known. You're sweet and genuine and caring. You seem to like me for me, not just for sex."

"Of course I like you for more than sex," Tre said. "Is there any other way?"

I laughed, honestly amused at his naïveté. "Tre, in a situation like ours—I mean aside from the whole car-stealing business and whatever—most guys would be just in it for the sex. As soon as that stopped being fun, or I stopped being interesting or taking care of them, they'd be gone."

Tre sat back, thinking. "Do you feel like you're taking care of me?"

That wasn't the question I'd expected. "I don't know. I mean, yeah, kind of. Financially, at least."

Tre made a face. "I don't like that. I want us to be...partners, or equals. You shouldn't be taking care of me. I know you've got money, but I can work. I can make money."

"I know. But that's not really important right now, is it?"

He shook his head. "No, guess you're right. We can figure that out once we sort out—"

"Everything else. Like, what are we? Where are we going? What's our long-term plan?"

"So we're ready for boxes, then?" Tre asked.

I bobbled my head side to side. "Boxes? I don't like boxes. But, I like being with you. I know that much. I really, really like having sex with you. I feel safe and comfortable with you. And, I promise, I do believe you're capable of providing. We may not need it, since I'm pretty set, but it's nice to have, you know?"