The icy sheets of rain ripped through his torn T-shirt and frayed jeans, sending a constant shiver through his body. It had been the wrong decision, he knew that now. Out on the moor in a violent storm, without his jacket or even his shirt. But at the time, he'd had to go. Maybe he had misjudged again.
"Lovely weather, huh?" The soft voice shocked him from his thoughts. Before him, clad in a dark suit and dripping white blouse, stood a tall woman, her hair hanging wet and limp around her pretty, pale face. He frowned.
"Why would someone like you be out here at this time?" His growly accent was barely audible in the hammering rain, and she stepped closer.
Sinclair leant back against the scratchy grey seat, closing his eyes against the forks of lighting outside. Beside him, Anne hummed quietly to the crackling radio.
"You got a light?" His eyes flickered open.
"Yeah, in the glovebox. My brother's." Anne wiped a drip of water off her brow and smiled. She had finally met him - the one. This Sinclair guy was perfect: a handsome, brave young man about her age, who clearly liked her too. The only drawback was that he smoked, but she could get over it.
"Thanks." He sparked the lighter and lit his slim cigarette, taking an agitated draw. He knew he was wasting time. Sitting in some woman's car, sheltering from a storm, when he was supposed to be rescuing Ellen. God knows where she would be now.
"I gotta go." He kicked open the door and pocketed the lighter. Anne grabbed his arm.
"What? Out in the storm?"
"Yes. See ya!" He slammed the door in her face and ran out into the pouring rain.
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