Fathom by L. Standage (spanish books to read .TXT) 📕

of the car. As I got out and followed him, I let my gaze trail over the chiseled lines in his back and over the well-formed back pockets of his blue jeans. Just a little bit.

We walked to the back of the store, toward the dairy aisle, when a sudden crash rattled the shelves nearby. I stopped walking and looked toward the sound. At the other end of the aisle, soup cans rolled in all directions. Stumbling over them was Brock Mallory.

My chin dropped in surprise. He looked at the display of soup cans he had destroyed, then gazed at me, his eyes wide with horror. Calder grabbed some creamer and walked back toward me, his eyes lingering at the mess Brock had made as he passed.

“Need anything else?” he said. I shook my head, trying not to laugh. Calder noticed me watching Brock and looked over his shoulder. Brock hurried away.

“A friend of yours?”

“No. His name is Brock Mallory. He’s the guy who sent my picture to the tabloid.”

“Really?” Calder said keenly and strode to the aisle where Brock disappeared. He glanced around the corner, then came back. “Not too bright. Let’s hope for his sake Cordelia never gets her hands on him.”

I laughed, but my laugh was cut short by a gasp. Brock came back into view, but this time he wasn’t alone. He was with Polo Shirt guy. My mouth fell open and my skin went cold.

“What is it?” Calder asked, seeing my face. He looked back. I grabbed Calder’s hand and ran. He didn’t question me. He didn’t stop. He only ran, tossing the coffee creamer into a clearance bin before we hurried through the automatic sliding doors of the supermarket.

We scrambled into the car just as Polo Shirt came out of the store. He climbed into a large, navy blue Ford truck and screeched out of the parking lot behind us.

Calder glared into the rearview mirror. “Who is that guy and why did we run from him?”

“He’s with Linnaeus. He was one of the ones who kidnapped me. Oh!” I cried, remembering something else, “And one of the guys who found Delfina’s body! He might’ve even been there when she died!”

“Does he know you’re a human?”

“Yes, they all know.”

“Why’s he chasing us then?”

“Maybe because I stole the vessel from Linnaeus? I think he’s a cop. Or he pretends to be. I don’t know. The guy must be in Linnaeus’s pocket.”

We sped down the road, taking several turns, until I looked behind us and realized the navy blue truck wasn’t following us anymore.

“I think we lost him,” I said. Calder checked the rearview mirror.

“You can never be sure. We’ll drive around for a while in case we’re being followed. If he’s a cop, he’s got connections.”

We continued driving, my heart returning to its normal pace. I had no idea where we were.

“Is it always like this? A car chase every other day?”

“When dealing with men like Linnaeus, yes.”

“I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have come with you. Cordelia’s right, I’m too easy to recognize.”

“Yes, you are,” Calder agreed, sounding amused as he raced to beat a yellow light.

I turned to look out the window, trying to hide my smile. Calder was still being nice to me. I was about to let my heart revel in the sweetness of the change but caught sight of a patrol car. Whoops.

“Calder! Slow down!”

“What, I had to beat the light,” he said, then saw the cop. “Oh.”

The patrol car sitting at a side street pulled onto the road behind us. Dread stole over me.

“Don’t try to run,” I said. “Maybe he hasn’t heard about us yet.”

“You sure?”

“Yes! Running from the police is the stupidest thing you can do. We’re not exactly in a Ferrari. There’s no way we could outrun him.” I looked behind us. The police officer turned his red and blue lights on.

“I made it before the light turned red,” said Calder. “We weren’t doing anything illegal.”

I gave a bitter huff, remembering the night I was kidnapped. We weren’t doing anything illegal then either, yet Polo Shirt told me I was under arrest.

“Just pull over. Maybe he’ll just give you a warning. Can you fake an American accent?”

“Not very well.” He pulled the car over. “I can speak a little Gaelic though. Maybe he’ll let us go if he thinks I can’t understand him.”

I gave a nervous laugh.

The burly cop tapped on Calder’s window. I jumped, but he calmly rolled the window down.

“Problem, Officer?” he asked, not speaking Gaelic.

“Do you know why I’ve pulled you over?” He had a ruddy face, a shaved, receding hairline, and wore a pair of rimless sunglasses.

“No.”

“Hmm.” He looked down his nose at us, sucking at something in his teeth. His radio buzzed, and a garbled voice spoke. He held up the radio. “Ten-four, Mallory, I got ’em.” He went to say more, but Calder threw the car into gear and sped back into traffic. The red-faced officer recoiled away from the car. Horns wailed, tires screeched, and the cop ran back to his patrol vehicle.

“Not again,” I moaned.

“Just hold on. I’ve got an idea.”

“There’s no way we’re going to get out of this.” I had visions in my head of helicopters, barricades, and stop sticks popping our tires.

“Yes, there is. Just do what I tell you. We’ll be fine.”

“How can you be so calm?”

“Experience.”

“Right. You’ve done this before.”

“This particular trick? Only once. In Scotland.”

Oh, real experience. A loud siren howled behind us. I looked through the back window. The cop was on our tail. By the time we had gone another mile, a second one trailed us. The people in the cars beside us stared through their windows at the police chase occurring right in front of them.

“What’s the wind like?” Calder asked me.

“The—what?”

“The wind! Look out the bloody window. Is it windy?”

“You look out the bloody window!” I cried. “You’ve got one too, don’t you?”

Though the situation was anything but funny, he laughed.

“What does the wind have to do with this?” I