Page 4 of Bracing The Storm

As the tires stir up the tiny gravel in their wake I realize I don’t feel particularly reassured. I’m stranded in the middle of nowhere, sitting on my hard-case baggage so as not to get my jeans dirty. The sun is setting faster than you can say “cheese” while the hills remain as silent as a tomb. I get my cell phone out and begin to play a mean old game of Bubbles because obviously I won’t be brainwashed into getting one of those new sleek gadgets yet. Given that I can’taffordanything bearing a brand name, that might not be the victory I’m making it out to be.

Come to think of it, I should have forked out the few extra quid for a phone with better cell reception because all my phone is good for is to tell me that my battery is dying. Which it is…right this instant.

Ah, crap!

Coming here is slowly starting to feel like a really bad idea.

I should have worked on my psychic abilities when I realized a new phone wasn’t anywhere within my budget.

Too late for that now.

As darkness descends and the moon slowly rises, I don’t need a clock to tell me that an hour has long come and gone. Whoever agreed to pick me up probably got lost on the way and didn’t bother asking for directions. In fact, I bet he never left the house in the first place. And who could blame him? I know I wouldn’t leave my cozy abode for a stranger who might or might not be stranded somewhere in the Irish wilderness.

The place is slowly starting to creep me out, and I haven’t even started to think about the local leprechaun legends or the gazillion other stories I skimmed through on the plane to get a better “feel” for this part of the world. I let my gaze roam, scanning the darkness frantically, as I realize that train of thought wasn’t a good move.

I’m doomed to spend the night in the wilderness! Actually, it’s the bumpy road leading from nowhere to nowhither, but it might as well be the Amazon forest for all I know.

“Way to go, Lori,” I mumble and start marching down the road, dragging my suitcase behind me. What sounds like an owl hoots nearby. Something yowls in response, making me flinch at the prospect of coyotes or worse. Wolves? Bears? Fairies? Gargoyles? I mean, we are in Ireland—the land of myths and legends. I’m not usually the superstitious kind, but this place is feeding my usually underwhelming imagination.

Who knows what’s out here?

What feels like another hour passes. At some point it gets so dark I can barely see my hand in front of my eyes and there’s no approaching car in sight. But I’m not giving up hope. I’m not going to end up as wolf dessert.

I see the taillights before I hear the whirring sound of an engine and a car snaking its way up the bumpy road at the pace of a snail.

Gee, could he drive more like a grandma?

But who’s complaining?

The man could take an hour or a couple. I don’t care as long as heiscoming.

“Yes. Yes!” I high-five the air and start jumping up and down for joy. Thereiscivilization out here. Honestly, for a moment I had my doubts. It feels good to know I’m not the only human being left after a huge asteroid wiped out most of the population.

I place myself in the middle of the narrow road to ensure the car won’t drive past me, and then I yell, “Hey! Over here!” while waving my hands about like a maniac.

The car is slowly approaching and I realize it’s a pickup truck. The beat of some unknown music is blaring through the speakers, and my heart begins to thrum erratically in my chest. The music is so loud, I doubt the guy could hear his own voice. I can only hope the driver isn’t texting while driving or otherwise mentally occupied.

“Hey, over here, please,” I yell while chanting, “Please let him see me. I’m too young to die out here.”

The headlights reach me, illuminating me from head to toe. Yet there is no sign of the person even thinking about slowing down.

Is he blind?

For a split second, I think I’m having a flashback of my life before my eyes. And then my survival instinct finally kicks in and I jump aside, landing on my butt in the nearby bushes.

The tires screech to a halt. The music dies down, and the truck’s door opens. I peer up at the large, menacing figure of a man approaching me. In the car lights, he looks huge, at least 6’2”, with the broad physique of someone who doesn’t spend his time slaving away at a desk. I can make out black hair. His face is shrouded in darkness and mystery, but there’s a vibe wafting from him, gloomy and dangerous.

Maybe hailing a car at night in the middle of nowhere wasn’t my brightest idea. He might not even be the person who was supposed to pick me up. He could be a serial killer for all I know.

What was I thinking?

Chapter Two

Without uttering a word, the stranger reaches out his hand to help me up. I peer at his strong fingers, hesitating.

“You want help or not?” the guy grumbles in an Irish rumble, his voice deep and low and sexy as hell. “As much as I love picking up strangers to chauffeur around, I haven’t got all night. I have places to be and things to do.”

I breathe out a sigh of relief.

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