Page 45 of Our Little Secret

Then another sickening thought:Her SUV. He must’ve put a tracker on it.

Her blood turned to ice and she actually swerved a bit.

“Hey!” Leah shouted as she righted the SUV, keeping it in her lane. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” she muttered as he swung directly in front of her.

She hit the brakes. Her gaze immediately went to the rearview mirror, where she saw the truck behind her fishtail slightly.

“Jesus!” Leah yelled, now looking at the motorcycle less than a hundred feet in front of them. “What kind of an ass is that jerkwad?”

“I don’t know,” Brooke lied, letting up on the brakes.

Gideon, hunched over the handlebars, flew into the passing lane, roaring between cars crazily, weaving in and out, causing brake lights to flash and horns to honk.

“He’s crazy!” Leah cried. “He’s going to cause an accident! Someone should turn him in!”

“Maybe someone will,” Brooke said, her heart racing as the motorcycle cut through traffic ahead of them.

“I didn’t get his plate number, otherwise I would!” Leah vowed, then leaned dramatically back against the seat, her fingers splayed over her chest. “I hope to hell he gets a ticket. Would serve him right.”

“Me too,” Brooke agreed, trying to still her galloping heart. Her fingers still clutched the wheel in a death grip. What a stupid, reckless move! And Gideon knew what he was doing all right. She was sure of it. He’d probably figured Brooke was more nervous than usual when she was driving, the aftereffects from the accident with Gustafson.

“Pricks like that shouldn’t be allowed to drive!”

“Amen.” They were easing their way through the city, skyscrapers knifing upward between the freeway and Elliott Bay, huge ferries churning in the Sound.

“I need a drink after that. A double. And you? Geez, you’ve already had one accident this week! You don’t need another.”

“Right.”

“And I’m kidding about the drink.” Leah craned her neck to see the motorcycle disappearing through the crush of vehicles, then settled back into the seat.

As the crisis passed, Brooke became aware of the forgotten radio, which was now tuned to an eighties station, Bon Jovi’s music wafting through the speakers.

“Holy shit, that was too close for comfort.” Leah’s phone chirped and she dug into a small clutch bag before sighing. “I was hoping it was Sean,” she admitted sadly before clicking on, holding the cell to her ear, and pasting a smile on her face. “Hey, Dani, what’s happening?. . . Oh right. If you could water the plants I would, like, owe you forever . . . uh-huh. Seattle, with my sister and her family . . . yeah, I know. No, he couldn’t come. Work, you know . . .” She glanced at Brooke, who was negotiating her way to the off-ramp on the south end of Lake Union and still trying to figure out how Gideon had known she was at the airport.

No way it could be a coincidence; she just couldn’t believe it.

By the time Leah disconnected, Brooke was turning onto the street where she lived. “Everything okay?” she asked.

Her sister sighed and looked up at the sky through the windshield. “Not really.”

Uh-oh. Brooke braced herself. With Leah there was always drama. Hadn’t she told herself that Leah didn’t just show up because she missed Brooke? Wasn’t there always an issue? “What’s going on?”

Leah blinked rapidly. “It’s Sean,” she admitted, and Brooke’s heart sank.

“What about him?”

“He wants a divorce.”

Brooke turned into their drive. “Oh, Leah, why?”

Her chin trembled and her voice, quiet and higher than usual, cracked. “He says he doesn’t love me anymore. In fact he says that he never really did.” At that she broke down into sobs.

“Oh Leah, I’m sorry.” Brooke pressed a button and the garage door started to roll upward.

Sniffing loudly, Leah said, “You’re so lucky, Brooke. So damned lucky. You have Neal and Marilee and I . . . I have nothing.”

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