Page 69 of Conrad

“I never went to college.”

“Really?”

“Drafted when I was eighteen. Made it to the NHL by the time I was twenty. But I’ve taken some business and investing classes. And I’ve done okay.”

“Given your digs, more than okay.”

“Trying to stay in the game.”

“That seems to be your specialty.” And she didn’t mean it as a dig. She glanced at him to see if he might have?—

He smiled back.

Lights burst into her rearview mirror. She winced and adjusted the mirror. “Sheesh.”

“Brights much, buddy?” He turned in his seat.

The car did seem to be too close. It pulled out as if to pass, and she eased up on the gas.Go ahead, pal?—

The car moved parallel with her, kept speed.

In the distance ahead, she spotted headlights. “C’mon, pass me.”

The car stayed even and then?—

“Hey!” She swerved to avoid it as it crowded into her lane. She tapped the brakes.

“Get behind it?—”

Not fast enough. The car jerked into her lane right in front of her, clipping her hood?—

The Nissan spun, slamming her against the door as she hit the brakes. Too hard. She worked the wheel, but the car slid across the road, flying into the shoulder?—

Airborne.

They touched down and rolled. Down into the ditch, beyond, into a tangle of pine and scrub brush, her seatbelt pinning her as the car pitched into the snowy woods.

And her scream echoing into the night.

EIGHT

He felt intact.Sure, his hip burned, sending spurts of pain down his leg, exploding into his bones, but as Conrad tried to adjust his eyes to the fading light, to get a handle on the state of the car, at least he knew he wasn’t dead.

Just upside down, the seatbelt slicing into his shoulder and waist as he hung.

“Penny?” He didn’t know why he kept calling her that, but it’s what emerged. “Penny?” He turned to her, found her also hanging.

She groaned, stirred. “Conrad?”

The terror flashed inside him—spinning, rolling, the chaos, her screaming—but he shook it away, put his hand on hers. “I’m okay.”

She gripped his back. “Me too. I think.” Her voice shook.

“Okay, listen, let me unbuckle, then I’ll help you out.”

“I can?—”

“Just wait!” He didn’t mean to shout, so maybe his adrenaline was burning a little hotter through him than he’d thought. “Sorry. Just . . . let me figure this out.” He reached for his buckle before she could object, then braced himself against the roof of her now painfully cramped car as he dropped.

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