Читать книгу Runaway Bride - Barbara Hannay - Страница 9

TRAVELLING down the highway in the back of the police car, Damon was only concerned about Bella. She sat very stiffly with her back straight, her hands tight fists in her lap. Her green eyes were fixed dead ahead, not meeting his, and he knew she was terrified and bewildered. It was more than possible she was also wondering if he really had stolen the car.

He wished he could reassure her, but it wasn’t worth trying to talk within the copper’s hearing. This was probably Bella’s first encounter with the police, whereas he’d been pulled up more times than he cared to remember.

On many of those occasions the police had been nasty or they’d been agents of really nasty regimes, often armed to the teeth with semi-automatic weapons. Too often, they’d looked as if they wanted to shoot him, to take him off somewhere to interview him with electrodes attached.

Damon had learned fast and he knew there was always a system, always someone higher who would make the final call. The trick in these situations was patience. It wasn’t worth provoking or shouting about rights. It was best to hold your tongue, stay firm and confident. Not lose the plot.

He wished he could reassure Bella that on the scale of things Australia was the best place in the world to be riding in the back of a police car. She looked so serious and white-faced, so angry and afraid.

This was beyond awful.

Bella had never been inside a police car and she was fighting a rising tide of panic. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. None of this felt real. It couldn’t be happening, and yet the tiny part of her brain that was still functioning told her this was about as real as it got.

She wished she knew what Damon was thinking. His dark face looked unbelievably calm, and she wanted to believe he was innocent. Now, when the chips were down, she felt her old loyalty to him rushing back. She didn’t want to doubt him, but how could she be sure?