Page 1 of In Knots

Chapter 1

Bang!

The car swerves violently to the right, and I battle with the steering wheel as it jerks in my hands. The vehicle lurches down towards the ground and, with rapidly sweating palms, I yank the vehicle off the road and onto the grass bank. I take my foot off the accelerator and let the vehicle rumble to a stop. Then I slump back in the seat, my heart racing so fast I can hardly breathe.

I take one … two … three deep inhales through my nostrils, then open my eyes and stare at my reflection in the rear view mirror. My pupils are blown wide in terror and my cheeks are flushed red.

I take a few more breaths to calm myself and climb out of the car, inspecting the damage.

A blown-out tyre. I stare at it for several long minutes, as if that will somehow miraculously fix the thing, before diving back into the car for my mobile phone and climbing up the grassy bank. I slide my skirt neatly underneath my legs and perch on the hard ground.

The road is empty. It’s why I chose this route, wanting the peace of the deserted countryside far away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

Now that’s looking like a really stupid idea because here I am alone in the middle of nowhere. I just pray I have some phone reception. Not that I know who I’m going to call.

My father? No way. I’m forbidden from driving out alone. I’m meant to take an escort, Jonathan, with me wherever I go.

The car repair people? Yeah, I’m not so sure that’s a great idea either. Who knows who they’ll send to change the tyre? Possibly an alpha which hardly seems safe when I’m here alone.

I wiggle my thumb backward and forward over the screen of my phone.

That’s exactly why Daddy wants the escort with me at all times. I sigh. I guess I’m going to have to call Jonathan and face the music. He is going to be one grumpy bear when he realises I snuck out without him, took the car, and have now broken it.

The pad of my thumb comes to rest on my screen, but I make no move to connect the call. Instead, I stare out across the dusty road and over the field beyond, golden maize shifting in the warm breeze.

Gosh, it’s hot. I glance up at the afternoon sun, high in the sky and not impeded by a single speck of cloud. I’m beginning to sweat. Something else my father would disapprove of.

I straighten my legs, letting the dry grass tickle the undersides of my knees, and lean my head back so the hot rays assault my face.

I’ll probably end up sunburnt too. I sigh for a second time, swinging my chin forward and deciding I’d better search my handbag for some sunscreen. My mother will most probably die if my nose starts peeling in time for tonight’s dinner dance.

I’m about to clamber to my feet, when something catches my eye. A cloud of dust in the far distance where the road disappears over the horizon. Probably another car or a tractor. There’s nothing but countryside and farmland for miles around here. But then I hear a rumble and before I know it four motorcycles are gliding along the road, racing my way.

I watch them drawing closer and closer, tiny shiny dots at first, growing and growing in size. I make no bid to move, to hide. I simply watch, expecting them to soar straight past me.

They don’t. They slow down, tucking in behind my car.

The warm breeze, which only moments ago carried the aroma of grass and earth, now carries the smell of petrol, leather, and masculine sweat.

The four bikers call to each other, but I can’t hear their voices over the thunder of their running motors. Then one turns his head and catches sight of me. The visor on his helmet is black. I can’t make out his face through it. Yet I know he’s staring straight at me, and I am frozen by that stare.

He cuts the engine of his bike, kicking up a stand and leaning the machine to one side, before raising his hands to his helmet and lifting it off.

He shakes out thick shoulder-length hair the colour of coal, meeting my eye again as he swings his leg over the bike and saunters towards me.

“You OK there?”

Then he halts and his nostrils twitch, just as I get the hint of something else on the breeze.

Alpha.

I swallow, gripping my phone tightly in my hands, my palms suddenly damper.

I don’t answer him and he examines me, his gaze running over my face, my blouse, my summer skirt, and my brogues. Then his gaze flicks down to my car. The other bikers are gathered around the front wheel. One crouching down to inspect it.

“What’s wrong with her car?” the alpha calls down to his friends.

“Tyres blown out,” the crouching one calls back.

---