Page 24 of Runaway Hearts: Seduced by Danger

Driving is unadvised with these meds, but I’m used to it. I swallow a piece of pill with my latte as I stare at the photo on my phone and a dreamy sigh escapes.

Hiroshi Kwunaru the Seventh clearly redefines the concept of drop-dead gorgeous.

Chapter 5

Medicated Race

Idrive for hours, my mind in a waiting state I don’t appreciate until I’m jammed in city traffic, bumper to bumper, waiting for the light to turn green. A punk rock song blasts from my speakers, making my poor windows shake.

I followed the pharmacist’s instructions to take my medicine—only quarter—and there was a buzzing beneath my skin. I’m agitated.

Excited.

My body is tensed like a coiled spring, ready to pounce at any moment. My heart beats faster with each passing second, and I fidget, my hands drumming on the steering wheel. Each nerve in my body is on high alert. It’s as if I’m waiting for a storm to break, a burst of energy to ignite the air and leave me breathless.

Then, a movement catches my attention fifty feet away. A man runs between the stopped cars. I bet he didn’t take his pill.

My mind is abnormally quiet.

I watch the running form with my eyes. He must be soaking wet because it’s pouring rain.

Surprise sends a shock wave from my pelvis to my neck as I land my eyes on the running man.

It’s him.

My mysterious, handsome hitchhiker.

How did he get here?

Zigzagging through a line of immobile cars, he runs into my precious blue Civic and crashes onto the hood with a powerful bang.

An enraged man chases after him, the bark of his threats so intense I can hear it. “I’ll catch you!”

I lift my head, and a sharp gasp catches in my throat.

Our gazes meet as something terrible shrieks inside my mind, piercing my body and exploding in my chest.

I abandoned him, and now he’s cornered.

The rain crashing on the metal resonates in the car. The pursuer doesn’t seem to see him because he’s slouched low on my vehicle.

He’s probably bleeding out, too.

Despair ravages my soul as I lock eyes with him, water running down his face in a silent plea. Agony grips me as his stare penetrates mine, rendering me unable to think clearly.

Could I save him?

But he drops his head, defeated, and slumps onto the hood with a faint squeak, one hand pressed against his side. He’s given up, and it shatters my soul.

Save him, damn it!

I reach for the button to unlock the doors and press it. At the click, Stranger Danger picks up his head and jumps into the back seat, seeking refuge in my sanctuary.

“Lie down in the back,” I tell him.

The other man is roaring. “Show yourself!”

I glance in the rearview mirror. The maniac hits cars at random. But I’ve got my stranger sheltered in the back seat. He’s mine now, the pale, sexy one, breathing hard, nearly dead because he’s losing blood.

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