The guy shook his head. "Fuck."
I didn't bother asking if he knew Jake. From the look on his face, it was pretty obvious that he did. But was that a good thing? Or a bad thing?
I was still wondering when the guy turned and splashed his way back to the SUV.
He yanked open the driver's side door and claimed the driver's seat, leaving the woman to scramble into the passenger's side.
A moment later, the vehicle roared out of sight, leaving me standing alone in the pouring rain – not that I was complaining.
Above me, I heard the crack of thunder, and the skies opened up, delivering a torrential downpour that made it hard to breathe. Or who knows? Maybe my ragged breathing had nothing to do with the weather. Whatever had just happened, I was insanely glad it was over.
Or, at least, I sure hoped it was over.
Unable to stop myself, I started running as fast as I could. I didn't pause until I reached Jake's street, still packed with rush-hour traffic, in spite of the downpour.
Looking down the street, I stifled a curse. I was still a long way from Jake's place, ten or twelve blocks at least.
Unsure what to do, I started running again, ignoring the weather and the strange looks I got from random people, scurrying forward under their nice, safe umbrellas.
The air was cooler now, but my lungs were burning, making me gasp and sputter as I splashed my way forward, desperate now to reach Jake's condo.
Ignoring everything – the rain, the looks, the traffic – I kept on going, until I heard a familiar male voice, calling out my name.
Confused, I stopped and turned to look. Unfortunately, the voice didn't belong to Jake. It belonged to my least favorite sports agent, Vince Hammond.
