She Used Me for a Dare… Now I Own Her Mother Chapter 377: Stalled Ambitions

A barrier of crimson taillights loomed into the night like an open sore that refused to heal.

"Move. Move, you useless —" Sterling pounded his palm on the steering wheel.

Instantly, the horn's blast got devoured by the symphony of countless angry drivers trapped in gridlock.

Five minutes, perhaps six. That silver car had led by two turns before the crossroads slammed to a halt.

Whether a construction barrier, a faulty signal, or some infernal official blunder, something had wedged itself squarely between Howard Sterling and the truths he demanded.

His neck stretched as he peered desperately through the glass at the jammed traffic.

Nothing but an infinite trail of glowing red taillights snaked far ahead, showing no hint of the jam easing up soon.

"Fuck." He shut off the engine, fished a cigarette from his jacket pocket, and climbed out of the vehicle.

Cool night breeze kissed the perspiration on his neck. With hands calmer than his racing heartbeat, he ignited the smoke, drew a deep, acrid pull, and glared at the jammed highway before him.

The silver car had vanished. Engulfed by the urban sprawl.

"That bastard already got away," he snarled, a cloud of smoke bursting from his lips only to be snatched by the gust.

He resembled a warrior at the brink of an abandoned warzone... enraged, powerless, and far too arrogant to confess defeat.

From within the Audi, Siobhan observed him via the windshield.

Her eyes traced his outline... the stiff back, the abrupt breath, the grip on the cigarette more like a blade than a habit.

"Look at this incompetent fool," she whispered under her breath. Her Irish lilt grew heavier, as it invariably did in moments of real rage, not just mild vexation.

"Why the fuck did I give this man the time of day?"

She damned her fortune, bile rising sharply in her mouth.

In the vanity mirror, she inspected her reflection, tweaking her collar's edge. Confidence armored her like plate mail; even at forty-five, her keen, hunter-like allure drew stares wherever she went.

She understood her value. She might have snagged a youthful, ambitious heir from the elite... those lads fixated on the refined command of a mature beauty.

Or accepted the persistent billionaire board member who'd circled her for months. Grotesque, sure, but his fortune could purchase discretion.

Yet here she sat, trapped in a motionless Audi beside a man too inept to conquer a mere snarl-up.

Her gaze returned to Howard, her lip twisting into a contemptuous smirk.

"You’re lucky I even let you touch me," she mused inwardly, eyes slitting as she tracked his agitated strides. "God knows your wife isn’t giving you that luxury anymore. She probably can’t stand the sight of you."

Siobhan reclined, the chilled leather headrest clashing with her boiling annoyance. She had to compose herself; no way would this fool's failure spoil her night.

Her eyes drifted forward to where the silver car had melted away. True intrigue creased her forehead.

’Who is in that car?’ She scowled. ’Is it really Heena.’

Could Howard truly be pursuing his spouse, certain of her infidelity? The notion bordered on ridiculous.

Heena Sterling was known to her—a serene, poised lady cloaked in dignity as armor and solitude as scent. Nothing indicated she’d ever stray from the expected path.

’But then again,’ Siobhan pondered, eyeing Howard smack his phone against his leg in fury, ’the quiet ones are always the ones you underestimate.’

She eased into the leather seat. The night lay in tatters. Siobhan Connolly, who had glammed up, arrived promptly, and held her tongue as ordered... now idled solo in a vehicle, witnessing a man hunt another through the city veins.

’Story of my bloody life.’

She flipped down the visor mirror, inspected her lipstick, adjusted her collar.

***

Outdoors, Howard shook ash into the still atmosphere, following the cigarette's ember as he pondered the decisions dragging him to this point.

"This is why you never put your feet on two boats, Howard," he grumbled to himself, flicking more ash to the pavement. He inhaled deeply and slowly, letting the fire nestle in his lungs before blowing out through his nostrils.

"Should be at the hotel right now. Enjoying the woman in his car. Instead I’m standing in traffic like a fucking taxi driver, chasing a woman who doesn’t even know she’s being chased."

He glanced at the Audi. Her form was tense through the glass, face etched with icy disdain.

No words needed; he could read her thoughts crystal clear.

"This bitch is finally showing her colors," he growled, unleashing a heavy smoke veil. He recognized her breed... grasped the mercenary core of her fondness.

"She’s definitely thinking of leaving me right now. Plotting her next move while the engine is cold."

A shadowy, bitter grin crept across his mouth. Concern evaded him. He'd tamed her sort previously, aware of his grip on her.

"But can she really?" he breathed into the shadows. "All that Irish fire and high-and-mighty anger... it’ll all dissipate with just one good fuck. She’ll be back to purring by morning."

The cocky notion momentarily stabilized his heartbeat, a frantic bid to seize back his fading control.

Suddenly, the crimson taillight barrier ahead wavered.

The heavy quiet shattered with grinding transmissions and engines revving collectively to motion.

"Finally." Howard ground out his cigarette beneath his shoe heel, seeing the red wall fracture vehicle by vehicle.

Down the freed roadway, his jaw clenched firm. Too much time wasted. Even flooring it wouldn't reclaim the silver car, now a specter lost to alleys or concealed drives. He'd missed them.

Bitter loss flooded his mouth like metal, but he swallowed it hard.

Capture impossible now, and no intent to squander the night pursuing phantoms while forsaking the guaranteed allure in his seat.

His temper raged, yet he despised squandering... particularly a prime woman primed and waiting.

He yanked the door open and sank into the Audi's leather-perfumed haven.

Siobhan kept her face averted. Profile flawless, stare locked forward as traffic inched ahead.

"Is it cleared?" Her tone sliced short, Irish inflection honed like a blade.

"Yeah," Howard answered, voice morphing smoothly. The desperate tracker vanished, supplanted by the suave Professor's poise. His fingers grazed her neck's nape lightly, probing stiffness. "It’s moving."

He paused, engine drone bridging their silence.

"Hey... Siobhan," he murmured, tone dipping to a husky intimacy. His smile gleamed... the one aging him backward, boosting his prowess.

"I’m sorry for earlier. I was stressed, and I was rude. It was inexcusable."

One hand on the wheel, he leaned closer, gaze tender.

"But I’m going to make up for it tonight. I promise you."

Siobhan turned at last, dark eyes probing his features in prolonged quiet. No smile answered, yet her taut shoulders softened fractionally, signaling the barrier ajar.

Howard's grin broadened. He stomped the gas; the Audi leaped forth, ditching the jam's fury as he aimed for his sole remaining conquest.

***

The Audi limped along Garrison Avenue, battered like a limping beast.

Sterling's grip whitened on the wheel with each bump and shudder, suspension protesting as the ruined pavement battered the chassis mercilessly.

"What kind of — who maintains these roads?" he spat through gritted teeth, a chasm-like pothole yanking the Audi askew. Siobhan clutched the door grip behind him, glaring with milk-curdling scorn.

Potholes scarred the path, lamps few and dim, shadows encroaching via arching branches transforming the street into a cavern.

Then it appeared.

A silver vehicle. Idling curbside. Motor silent. Lights dark. Lurking beneath an ancient oak's shade, as if hiding from discovery.

Sterling's foot lifted from the pedal. The Audi decelerated to a creep.

Ice gripped his chest.

It’s them.

Confusion twisted into icy, slithering horror.

Over twenty minutes gone since vanishing in the snarl... ample span to flee miles distant. Why linger here, halted in gloom on a dead-end route?

He throttled the Audi to idle pace, engine's murmur sole cabin noise.

’Don’t tell me...’ The dread howled inwardly... vision of Tisha, flushed and broken, mauled by that youth.

He jerked his head side to side, frantic self-rebuttal. ’No. Heena is there. My wife is in that car. She wouldn’t allow... they wouldn’t...’

Unthinkable. Heena embodied reason, propriety's bastion. She walled off savagery from Tisha's wild urges.

’Maybe the car was broken,’ he grasped at sanity, brain clawing for tolerable truth sans nausea. ’Maybe they’d hit a pothole on this godforsaken road and were waiting for the engine to cool.’

He neared parking and charging the driver's window when the silver car jolted alive.

The motor roared to life, wheels turning lazily at first, then accelerating as it merged onto the shattered tarmac.