Page 67 of Girl Anonymous

He parked.

He drove out.

The gates closed.

She didn’t know why, but she figured he knew what he was doing. He’d better; this SUV had a manual transmission. He shifted gears from first to second to third to fourth to fifth… She knew how to drive a stick, of course; that was one of the requirements for her job, to be able to drive vans and trucks of all sizes. But most people couldn’t, and darned if she could figure out why he didn’t have an easier-to-drive vehicle. Except…if a person knew what they were doing, driving a stick gave a control that couldn’t be duplicated with an automatic. He liked control. He demanded control. She almost asked if he would ever allow her on top…but he drove without headlights until they turned onto California Route 1, the Pacific Coast Highway, and she didn’t want to distract him. Intermittent rain splattered the windshield, and without stars or moon, the night was so dark itloomed.

When he did turn on the headlights, she breathed a sigh of relief. People who had a lick of sense didn’t drive the Pacific Coast Highway at night; it curled and twisted in switchbacks, took dips and rises like the roller coaster in Santa Cruz, and experienced regular slough-offs that would expectedly take the (mostly) two lanes of asphalt into the Pacific Ocean.

Maarja and Dante headed north in the deepest dark of night with fog curling through the valleys and rain squalls dusting the heights. The southbound lane clung to the edge over the Pacific, but they were tucked up against the cliffs, which provided a greater sense of security about not toppling into the wavesandat the same time a niggling worry about boulders tumbling off the cliff sides and smashing them flat.

She didn’t even know how to be properly afraid.

She started giggling.

“What’s so funny?” Dante asked.

She mimicked him. “It’s four thirty in the morning, and I’m about to get laid.” In the faint light of the dash, she could see him smirk.

“It was. And I was.”

“Iwas sleeping.”

“Afterward, I was going to let you sleep late.”

“And wake me up how many more times?”

He shook his head. “Three’s my limit.”

The inexhaustible lover: another romance myth shot to hell.

He continued, “After that, you’d be too sore.”

So…inexhaustible and considerate. And bossy and conniving.

“Sleep now,” he suggested. “I’m driving.”

“On this road? At this speed?” Because he wasn’t wasting time. The headlights flashed, illuminating pavement and cliffs and dips at an alarming velocity. “I can sleep when we get where we’re going. Where is that, by the way?”Subtle, Maarja.

“My office in San Francisco. I’ll drop you off there. You’ll be safe while I check out the situation.” He didn’t even pause for her to come up with an answer. “Is precognition a common gift among the Rom?”

CHAPTER 32

That would teach her not to go to sleep on his suggestion. Now she had to speak about the difficult stuff. “I don’t know. Aunt Yesenia used to say things sometimes, but mostly when she’d been drinking, and I was too busy trying not to get caught with a backswing to pay much attention.”

“What happened to her?”

“She died in Florida. Liquor and weed. Bad boyfriend.” Her voice broke a little. “Barely made the news.”

“You don’t mourn her, surely?” He was clearly incredulous.

“She was my only living relative. My mother’s sister.” Having his attention focused on the road rather than her made it easier to address issues, and darkness hid most of her feelings. “She wasn’t always drunk and mean. When I was little and crying for my parents, she cuddled me and made me hot chocolate. Eventually the constant moving and fear broke her down. She used to say before she got saddled with me, she had prospects. She had a rich boyfriend, she could have gotten married, she could have had her own children to care for. All true, I think, and another tragedy in this long line of tragedies.”

“I guess I understand.” He spoke slowly, as if he was really making an effort. “I can’t imagine being alone in the world, I’m so overwhelmed with relatives who eat and give me adviceand scheme and want me to pay them for support.” She felt him glance toward her. “I share them with you. You’re welcome.”

Because of the bottle and stopper. Because they were now married. He really, really wanted to impress that on her while she really, really intended to pretend it had never happened. Which she did by answering his question about precognition. “I always had a sense for old books, and I used to go to the library to read and feel the connection with the other people who had read that particular story. When I was a teen, I remembered some stuff and I wanted to know who I was and why…it all had happened.”

“Do you remember it all?”

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