To Catch A Storm Read Online Free

questions asked, but it was locked. Damn. Clever girl.
     
    . . .
     
    The man reached the passenger side of the car as she was putting the ticket into the machine. She looked around to see him looking in. “C’mon, come on.” she told the machine under her breath. It pulled the ticket in, pushed it out and then swallowed it completely.
    “Nice car darling.” the man said to her through the window. “What sort of car is it?”
    She ignored him and stared at the barrier. He knocked on the window to try to get her attention. He’d definitely got her attention, but she was not going look at him. The barrier finally went up after what felt like a long, dragging minute but was just a few seconds. She turned briefly, blew him a kiss and set off to the left down the one way street. It had been the guy that walked past the lift which was odd that he would then be down in the car park when he was supposedly walking off toward one of the bedrooms two minutes before. She watched in the rear view mirror to see the man get into a Mercedes that pulled up from high speed. This was not good. This definitely seemed like it was bad. She took a left and then a right and then a left, but they stayed in touch and suddenly were right up behind her. Play it cool, she told herself, but this was not a coincidence. No way.
    She pulled up at a T junction and waited for a gap in the traffic. She didn’t go when she could have. She waited for almost two minutes, glancing at the people in the car behind her. The guy driving was huge and bald and looked pretty scary. She did not want to have to deal with him. A small gap came up and just before the first of a long line of cars, she floored the Lambo and flew off up the street leaving them stuck and awaiting a space to get out. She kept her eye on the traffic behind but didn’t see them pull out. Half a mile down the road, she turned right and pulled up at a crossroads, looked left and right and pushed on the throttle; the car howled straight ahead and everyone stopped and turned to look around at the source of the howl. She’d better take it easy, this was the most outrageous car and she was going to get stopped by the police at this rate. Not a good move considering her current position. She eased off the throttle and took the pace right down.
    Things were still fuzzy. She drove toward the edge of Glasgow, vaguely aware she was following signs for Edinburgh. As she got toward the open road, she wound the driver’s and passengers's windows down and let air rip through the car. She breathed deeply for the first time today. Fresh air after the confined atmosphere in the hotel room with its dead occupant felt invigorating and liberating. It tussled her hair around her face and out of the window as if she stood atop a huge cliff. It would have looked crazy to anyone who saw, but the roads were dead. With the noise of the engine, it was deafening, but it was starting to blow away the fuzziness. She could just hear her phone ringing above the cacophony, but still was in no mood to talk to anyone. What would she say? She didn’t know why she was in Glasgow, how she got there, why she was with a dead guy and who the dead guy was. She drove for a short while following signs on a kind of auto-pilot. Before she knew it, she was on the M8 motorway. All she could remember for the last 10 minutes or so was looking at her blackened eye in the mirror and wondering, if and how, she could cover it with makeup. She stuck to the middle lane and tried to be as inconspicuous as it was possible to be in a white Lamborghini. At least, she didn’t look like the typical type of person who would steal a car like this. She drifted along with the ambient traffic, passed a traffic police car driving at about 60mph in the slow lane and it made her panic. She needed to get off the motorway. Taking the next exit (after indicating precisely), she drove south along country roads until she hit the A71 and picked up signs for