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As if he could forget that fact. “Who’s this guy coming after you?”
“Don’t know.” Her skin paled. “Probably someone Phil sent.”
Phil Samson. Her husband. Make that her dead husband. Luke vowed to deal with her lies later. Now he needed to get them out of there alive.
The other man’s steps stopped. Except for the soft rustle of his slick jacket, he didn’t make a sound. But Luke could feel the tension radiating off the guy. He motioned for Claire to stay quiet as he peeled her fingers off his shirt. The last thing he needed was her slowing him down.
Glaring at her one last time, Luke mentally started the countdown. In one swift move he stood up and pivoted around the Dumpster, gun raised, to face the other man head on. The guy’s eyes bugged out the second before he lifted his weapon. The slight hesitation gave Luke the opening he needed. His bullet hit the man’s shoulder, sending him stumbling backward.
At the sharp bang people gathered at the end of the alley. Someone shouted for the police. Another person started yelling about a robbery. Luke heard it all, but his focus remained locked on the man in front of him. The guy refused to go down easy. Instead, he held on to his weapon and stayed on his feet.
Claire ran for the back door to the building and yanked on it. It took her a few tugs to see the wood Luke had shoved there. With a growl of frustration she ripped it out.
When the door still refused to open, she hammered it with her fists. “Open up!”
Luke lunged for her. “Claire, no! It’s—”
The other man’s roar cut off the rest of Luke’s warning. Everything moved in a blur. Claire jumped away from the door, holding the stick in her hand like a bat. At the same time the mystery man lurched, shifting his gun to waist height.
When the man pivoted toward Claire, Luke didn’t hesitate. No way was he going to let the guy get a shot off in her direction. Luke shoved her against the wall as he fired a second shot at the attacker. The explosion from the gun mixed with a second crack Luke couldn’t place. For a moment all he heard was the whir of distant sirens and screams from the street.
As he watched the man drop to his knees, the twitching began. Luke tried to flex his hand to keep it from going to sleep, but the muscles fell limp. Heat raged in a line down to his fingers as if every nerve ending had caught fire under his skin.
Claire picked that moment to run out of her hiding place with the stick held high. She slammed it into the back of the other man’s neck, knocking him face-first into the gravel.
“Claire, what are you—”
Grunting with a mania Luke guessed was fueled by adrenaline, she finally faced him. Her gaze zoomed in on his arm and her cheeks blanched even more.
“Are you okay?” Her question came out in a voice both breathy and uneven.
He had no idea what she was asking or why. “Fine.”
“You’ve been shot.”
“I … what?” Luke caught her around the waist to keep her from running. His head spun and his vision blurred, but he knew he had to hold on. No way was he losing her this time. Only thing was, she didn’t struggle or try to break away. He couldn’t figure out that part.
“Luke, stop moving around.”
“You recognize that guy now?” Luke asked, forcing the words out over the sudden searing pain radiating through his shoulder.
She stared at the man lying at her feet with the bullet hole in his back. When she glanced back at Luke’s face, her hand tightened on his forearm. “You have to sit down.”
“Why?” With the noise at the end of the alley and police sirens blaring, Luke knew they had to move. “Doesn’t matter. It’s time to get out of here.”
As the whirring screech from the approaching police cars grew louder, two men started down the alley. Luke guessed the body sprawled on the ground grabbed their attention. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to check it out. Still, he had his fill of knuckle-heads rushing in and trying to save Claire.
“Stay back.” Luke tried to lift his hurt arm, but a new bolt of pain blinded him, forcing him to let it fall uselessly to his side. He finally looked down and saw the blood. “What the hell?”
“You can’t feel that?”
The thumping increased. “I can now.”
“You’re injured.” She ripped the bottom edge of her T-shirt and held it against his shoulder. “Badly.”
The pressure of her palm knocked the breath out of him. He bit back the shout rumbling around in his throat and forced out the words he needed to say. “Adam, get here now.”
Claire glanced around. “Who are you talking to?”
A white van appeared at the end of the alley a few seconds later. Adam got out, flashed his fake badge and started issuing orders.
“Our ride is here,” Luke said through teeth tight with agony.
“Where are we going?” Claire shifted her attention from the commotion back to him.
“Out of here.”
“Not to the police.”
“Not yet.” He vowed to get the real answers first.
It was about time Claire Samson learned there were consequences to her actions. He was the perfect person to teach her—as long as he didn’t pass out first.
Chapter Two
A half hour later Claire heard Luke hiss as he shrugged out of his suit jacket and got the material caught on his watch. He sat on his kitchen table with his legs dangling and his dress shirt unbuttoned down to his stomach. The only blemish on his bare skin came from the dark red stain spreading across the white material.
Slumped shoulders and face drawn tight with pain, Luke looked ready to drop. Claire half hoped he would. If he fell over she could run. Well, she could if she somehow managed to knock out Luke’s friend. Mr. Blond, Big and Ticked Off. Yeah, that guy looked ready to kill someone, namely her.
Both men had chests and shoulders broad enough to make football players jealous. Luke’s light brown hair with bangs that brushed his eyebrows gave a boyish quality to his handsomeness. But in the two years since they were together he had changed. He now possessed a lethal air, making him more like his tough friend than the charming man she once thought would be her future.
Neither man gave off the upper-crust snootiness she expected from guys who supposedly spent their days locating precious works of art. She doubted Luke could tell a Chagall from a cartoon. The comfortable gunplay made her think his work was something more along the lines of law enforcement, but he lacked the clean-cut government-man look she associated with FBI agents. Now that she had experienced the great misfortune of being questioned by a few, she recognized the beast.
One thing was for sure. Luke, the man she followed from a distance and tracked to the office building—the same one who ran her down in the alley and kept a gun in his waistband—did not spend much time behind a desk. She’d bet her life on that. In fact, that’s exactly what she was doing.
She needed Luke’s help and cooperation, wanted to get him interested in her case and set him loose to find the truth. She just had the tiny problem of earning his trust first. With their history that was going to take some time, and probably some begging, which was not her strongest skill.
Luke focused on his friend. “You can get me the whiskey. The rest of the supplies are in the bathroom.”
“You’re thirsty?” she asked. “Now?”
Luke ignored her and kept talking to his friend or partner or whatever the other man was. “Then you’ve got to get back to the scene and help clean up the mess with the police.”
The guy shot Claire a blank stare. “I’m not leaving you alone with her.”
“My name is Claire.”
The man made a face as if he’d tasted something sour. “I know who you are.”
“Adam, meet Claire, and vice versa.” Luke peeled off his shirt, gasping when the blood-soaked material caught on his skin. “The supplies? And now would be good.”
Adam nodded, then headed down the hall.
The second they were alone Luke pinned her with the same green-eyed gaze that used to make her forget what she was saying.
“If you even try to move out of this room, I’ll stop you,” he said.
“You only have one good arm.”
“I can do a lot with that.”
Which was exactly why she hadn’t yet made a run for the door. “I’m not leaving.”
“That’s not my experience,” he muttered under his breath.
Adam stalked back into the room and dumped a small box on the table, along with gauze, some medicine, a knife and a bottle. “What are we looking at in terms of injuries here?”
Luke tried to lift his arm but groaned, instead. “It’s a through and through. Not serious. Just bloody and stings like a son of a bitch.”
She eyed the whiskey. “Which is cause for a celebratory drink?”
Both men stared at her but only Luke answered. “I’m going to use it to clean the wound.”
She noticed his husky voice had cleared and his swaying had stopped. Still … “Shouldn’t you be at a hospital? I mean, how bad is this?”
Luke picked up a bandage packet and put the edge between his teeth and ripped it open. “It’s a gunshot, so it doesn’t feel good. But unfortunately for you, I’m not going to die.”
She forgot how dizzying his stubbornness could be. “You are if you don’t stop with the attitude.”
He peeked up at her through his mop of hair. “I’d like to remind you how I got shot.”
That was an easy one. He refused to stick with the mental plan she had worked out for him. He might hate her, but his rescue tendencies hadn’t dulled.
“Have we figured out who it was you two killed?” Adam asked.
Luke nodded in her direction. “Ask her.”
They both stared at her, but she ignored it. Her mind wandered back to that alley. The acrid mix of blood and sweat filled her nose. For a second there Claire had forgotten this death was on her. She actually had killed a man this time. It was in self-defense and in an effort to save Luke, but someone was still dead.
She swallowed hard to keep from gagging on the bile that rushed up the back of her throat. “He was following me. I don’t know who he was.”
“Your partner?” Luke crumpled the empty packet in his fist. “I’m betting you weren’t really the victim out there today.”
If she thought for one minute Luke intended to save her when she walked into that alley … yeah, not the case. He hunted her down for one reason only—to turn her over to the police. She could see it in the intensity of his eyes.
He had been in that building for a job of some sort. Hung out on every floor until the security cameras finally flared to life. She showed up hoping to get his attention, but she’d miscalculated. She expected he would catch a glimpse and get the bug to start digging into her story. She hadn’t been prepared for a multifloor rundown that ended with a shoot-out.
The entire situation made her want to scream. Phil did this. He set her up, pretended to be dead and now had someone on her tail. Marrying him had been the worst decision of her life.
Adam spilled the alcohol on Luke’s wound, earning an impressive string of yelled profanity in return.
Men. “You’re going to kill him. Here, let me.” She pushed Adam out of the way. Kind of felt good to surprise the guy with a shove.
Then she stepped between Luke’s open legs, resting her thigh against his. The reality of being separated by only two thin pieces of material made her freeze in place. An accidental brush against him shouldn’t mean anything. Certainly shouldn’t send her stomach into flip-flop mode.
“What are you doing?” Luke asked.
“Helping.” She sucked in a few deep breaths as she struggled for control. Even after all this time he had the power to shatter her into a thousand useless pieces.
Instead of dwelling on her weakness to a man so determined to forget her, she went to work. Grabbing the gauze out of his hand, she rubbed the swab over the jagged wound with infinite care. When his lips stayed pinched, she knew the whirling in her stomach only went one way.
Adam plunked down in the chair beside her. His gaze never left her hands. It was as if he expected her to injure Luke with a cotton ball.
“You have a problem with me?” she asked.
Adam’s eyebrow lifted. “Other than the fact you killed your husband?”
Nothing like being found guilty without a trial. “Allegedly killed.”
“Does it sound better to you when you make that distinction?”
“Answer this, Adam. Do you always judge people you don’t know?”
Luke exhaled. “Maybe you two could spar another time. Like when I’m not bleeding to death.”
“I see you’ve taken up exaggeration.” She worked on Luke’s arm, ignoring the pain that flashed in his eyes as she swiped the pad over his injury with delicate care. “Not a very attractive quality, by the way.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a hobby.” Luke leaned over and tried to grab for something from the table. The move put his head right by her cheek and close enough for his breath to tickle her ear.
As soon as his hair brushed her skin, he sat up straight. Even grunted.
The quick move broke her trance. “What now?”
“Hand me the needle and tape.” He barked out the order.
And she ignored it.
He sent her a wide-eyed surprised look. “I’m bleeding here.”
“I’ll get it.” This time Adam did the shoving. Without any fanfare he crowded Claire to the side and away from Luke. Before Luke could argue, Adam started sewing. “You need anything else right now?”
“An explanation from Claire here would be good,” Luke said.
She glanced at the syringe and bottles sitting on the table. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
Luke’s skin whitened as Adam worked. With each tug of the thread and poke through his skin, Luke’s mouth stretched flatter into a thin line. His jaw tightened to the point of breaking.
“I’ll take her to the police after this.” Adam ignored Luke’s squirming. “We should end this now and get back to work.”
