The barren, quiet road to home was a long and arduous one, wrought terribly with many trials and tribulations that a man, in his illest of fortune, deserved not to have been an unwilful participant of, for even the deepest depths of hell hath no fury so righteous and fervent as a woman's lust.
Irene's lust.
Last time I was in a car with the no-nonsense detective, I was practically blown asunder from within from merely a whiff of her, had I not rolled down a window in the nick of time, I am absolutely certain I would have choked to death in a sea of raging hormones.
This time, I was taking no chances. Every window front and back was rolled wide open, playing host to the strong gusts of wind filtering in, smacking and bashing, unrelentingly blasting my face with the force of a thousand whirlwinds.
And I was ever so grateful for it.