Page 17 of Thunder

This is war.

Chapter Six

Amelia

The moment Mr. Russell wraps up his answer to the final question from the crowd—a question which is just another iteration of grievances against the parking costs on Pineview Avenue—and it becomes appropriate for me to flee the stage without it looking like I'm actually fleeing the stage, I flee the stage.

My nerves are frayed as I push my way through the crowd. Just the sight of Marcus at the other end of the meeting hall, his hands raised to his mouth, his voice raised, his eyes accusing and downright defamatory, is enough to put my heart from "fight or flight" mode straight into "fight."

I want to storm across the room and punch him.

Or at least, that's what I fantasize about doing, if I wasn't acutely aware of the many, dire consequences of such an action: me losing my job, possibly getting arrested for assault, the company probably losing the development project and definitely suing me for damages, and the strong likelihood that, even if I stormed over there, ready to punch Marcus in his gorgeous, ruggedly handsome, too-damn-infuriating face, the odds are just as likely that I'll end up kissing him.

So I run.

Push my way through the crowd and out to the parking lot.

The cool sea air enters my lungs and leaves in a whoosh of relief.

It's empty out here, mostly. The large portion of the citizenry of Costa Oscura is still inside the meeting hall, some of them trying to corner whatever councilmember they can get their hands on to discuss parking rates, the others—that old woman, Eileen O'Connell in particular—are forming little groups to oppose and harass my boss.

I really should get back in there. It'll look bad for me to run away like this, I think as I walk toward my rental car with zero hesitation in my steps.

"Lia."

One word makes me whirl around to see him. That damned biker. That damned, handsome, charming enemy of mine who, if I even give in to any of the feelings I have for him—feelings that are shocking in their intensity—I will lose my job and find myself blacklisted in an industry that I have fought, tooth and nail, to get into.

"Go away, Marcus."

"We need to talk."

"I told you I never wanted to see you again. Yet we have sex one time, and here you are, stalking me like a needy puppy."

"This is about more than us fucking, Lia. This is about you and the people you work for fucking over an entire community."

I grind my teeth. "Were the facts, yes, facts, we presented back there too complicated for you to understand?Mar y Tierrais going to be an enormous boon to Costa Oscura. It'll be powered with green energy, it'll put excess energy back into the grid, it's going to be carbon negative—which means the resort itself is going to make the environment better—and a huge chunk of the land, as well as the adjoining ocean territory, is going to be put aside as a nature preserve. It is literally—that means really—going to make things better here, and that's not even mentioning the jobs it'll create. Is that simple enough for you to understand, you stupid, greasy gorilla?"

"Greasy gorilla?" He spits back, eyes flaring, somehow, fucking somehow, making him even more attractive. "I suppose I should thank you for dumbing things down for an idiot like me, huh, Science Bitch?"

"Oh, we're calling each other names now?"

"You started it."

I throw my hands up. Not because he's right, which, even if he is,heprovokedmeby storming out here and starting this entire argument in the first place, but because I don't have time for this. "I'm leaving. Goodbye, Marcus. I hope I never, ever, ever see you again."

"Not so fast, Lia," he starts, but it's too late. I already have my butt in the driver's seat and my key in the ignition. Revving the engine, I back out of the parking spot and speed away, hoping that I've seen the last of that greasy gorilla.

Even though I know I definitely haven't.

My hope doesn't even last thirty seconds; just a block away from the meeting hall, I look in my rearview mirror and see a motorcycle in pursuit.

I speed up.

He follows.

Every turn, every straightaway, he's right there, pursuing me, with a fiery look in his eyes that fills me with heat and a fear for my life. It's the most arousing, confusing sensation I've ever felt, and I hate him for inspiring it in me.

My hands are clammy on the wheel, my breath short, shallow.

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