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If Otis had transportation, she was sure he’d have been right behind her. A couple of people had chased her, but shooting was a first. Other drivers could be outrun, bullets were another story. Maybe she should reconsider her current profession.
A shudder built in her insides, its ripple effect forcing gooseflesh up her arms. It had to be because of the nip of April air that breezed through the missing window. She checked her rearview mirror. The red reflection of her brake lights shone behind her in the darkness, but the trunk lid was higher than it should be. A pellet must have damaged the lock.
The gate swung open and she drove the car to the back of the complex where she’d left a double garage-size unit open. She pulled the car in and killed the engine. The auto locks snapped. She climbed out of the car and flipped on the switch to a single fluorescent overhead.
A shower sounded good. Scrubbing the swamp off her skin was going to be priority one, she decided, checking her watch. Two-thirty a.m. Not bad for a night’s work. The paperwork could wait for tomorrow, but she wanted to have a look at the damage caused by the shotgun blast.
Kate rounded the left rear quarter panel.
The notes of a scream raced up her throat, but they came out as a whimper. Caught between reality and disbelief, she watched the buckshot-peppered trunk open without a sound.
“Move and you’re dead.” A man climbed out of the compartment and rose to six feet of lethal flesh and bone.
Time stopped. She stared at the gun in his hand, then back at his face.
“Who are you?” he asked above the buzz of the fluorescent.
She struggled for words and took a step back, gauging the distance between herself, the man and the open door. Her limbs went numb, the air thickened around her. She worked to breathe, to think. Stay cool.
“I could ask you the same thing.” She watched his expression for any sign of what was going on in his head. Her backpack was in the passenger seat, but it was too far away for her to reach it before he blew a hole in her.
“Close the door.”
She obeyed, taking in his size and weight. How strong was he? Pulling the rope, she brought the metal door down slowly. If she waited until it was almost closed, she could roll underneath it. There was a spare key outside in her Bronco.
“Don’t get any ideas.” In two steps he was on her. He clamped his hand on her shoulder, but his fingers didn’t bite into her flesh. The physical contact jolted her; she froze under his touch. Guys like this got off on the fear they could generate. She wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction, or the advantage.
The door touched down on the concrete floor. She had to get to her backpack, somehow.
She turned toward him, determination in her veins.
“Again. Who are you and why did you boost this car?” His voice was low, demanding and cut with an edge of irritation.
“I didn’t steal it. I repossessed it.” If her answer erased doubt, it didn’t register in his sharp green eyes, eyes that seemed to probe into her soul.
“Wouldn’t it be better to do it in daylight with a police escort?”
His solution intrigued her, even while the gun he aimed at her made her wonder about his status. Law-abiding citizen or desperate criminal?
“I obtain hard-to-recover assets. Not everyone willingly lets you take their ride.”
His expression hardened, his eyes narrowed. “Have you got a lock for the door?”
Fear raked across her nerves. “Maybe.”
“Maybe isn’t good enough.”
This was her chance. Kate took a step back. The padlock was in her backpack. “It’s in the front seat. I’ll get it.” Move. She crossed in front of him.
He turned as she passed by and she was aware of him next to her as she opened the door and pulled her backpack out by one strap. She grasped the zipper. If she only opened it partway, she could put her hand in and rummage around. He’d never see his demise coming.
“I’ll take that.”
Before she could protest, he pulled her lifeline away. She swallowed her disappointment. Was this guy a mind reader?
“Head for the table.” He motioned to the card table she used for her paperwork. It was pushed into the corner at the front of the garage. She took hesitant steps toward it. He followed close behind. So close she could feel his heat, feel the arc of his strength connect to her body and drive fear into her soul.
Dressed in black from head to toe. Leather jacket. Early thirties. Clean shaven. Blond. Six-one. Green eyes, yes his eyes were green. She stored the details in her mind for the day the cops caught him. That was, if she lived.
A knot tied her stomach as she thought of her son. She had to make it…for his sake. She stopped at the table, wincing as he slid the zipper on her backpack and dumped it out with a couple of shakes. Her gaze locked on the Taser gun as it fell out with the rest of her worldly goods. An innocent object disguised as a tissue holder.
Attack. She dove for the weapon. Desperation choked her mind and made her movements erratic. She missed her mark and he threw an arm around her waist.
Kate fought to get away, but he was too strong. She ended her struggle, aware of the feel of his hard chest against her back and the sensation of being superheated against him.
“Who are you lady, MacGyver?” He laid his gun on the table, snagged the padlock and carried her to the door.
“I’ll warn you once.” His breath was warm against her ear, his voice soft, but deadly. He set her down, turned her and pointed his finger in her face an inch from her nose. “If you move, I’ll tie you up.”
He opened the lock and put it into the clasp on the door.
Kate kept still, watched him snap the lock shut and deposit the key in his left front pants pocket. She had to have the key.
Mick felt better with the lock in place. The woman beside him was trouble and too unpredictable to take his eyes off. He could see her thinking every second. Planning her escape. The challenge sent a surge of excitement through his veins. It didn’t bother him that she was the sweetest piece of eye candy he’d seen in an eon, but so far he hadn’t been able to get any information out of her that made sense.
The intensity of the burn in his side flared again. He didn’t know how long he had until his shrapnel wound sent him to la-la land. If he lost it now, she’d be gone along with the Beamer, his only link to Otis Whittley.
“Where did you get this car?”
Her eyes were a rich shade of coffee-brown and sparkled with defiance. She glared at him and raised her chin.
Mick knew the make-me gesture. He hadn’t busted a single punk who hadn’t flashed him the same challenge. But she didn’t look the part.
Clean Levi’s hugged her slim hips and brushed the tops of black running shoes. A black sweatshirt was tied around her narrow waist and a tank top with TULANE printed on it stretched across well-rounded breasts. Shiny hair the color of mahogany was parted on the side and splayed well below her shoulders. He put her height at five-six or so. She looked delicate standing in front of him, but he’d felt the repressed strength in her curvaceous body for himself.
He swallowed and tried to focus his wayward thoughts. “I haven’t got all night.”
“It’s the property of Dallas S & L. I’m supposed to deliver it to them on Friday.”
“You don’t understand.” He stepped toward her, his patience brittle. “This car stays put until you tell me who you are and what you really want with a fifty-thousand-dollar ride.”
“I told you. I repossessed it.”
“Yeah, and I’m the tooth fairy.” He was getting nowhere with her and he didn’t have time to mess around.
“Look, lady, I’m not going to shoot you.” He raised his hands, feigning peace. “I need information. If you hadn’t taken the car, I’d have it.” Otis was probably miles away by now.
“Come on.” He grabbed her elbow, steered her around the car and back to the table. If she wouldn’t tell him who she was, then he’d find out for himself.
He shuffled through the contents of her backpack, a virtual smorgasbord of paraphernalia fit to rescue a spy from any situation. Rope, a Swiss Army knife, first aid kit, cell phone, even a cache of tissues to blow her perfectly shaped nose. He’d never seen anyone so prepared. But she wasn’t going to be prepared for him, if she didn’t take him where he needed to go.
His gaze settled on her wallet. He grabbed it, popped the clasp and flipped it open to her driver’s licence.
Kate Robear, 415 Murray, New Orleans. Hatred exploded in his chest, burning him like a red-hot poker. He sized up the woman in front of him while the knowledge ricocheted deep into his brain.
He had a Robear? The family resemblance was indisputable. Dark hair, fair skin, expressive eyes socketed innocently in a beautiful face. For an instant he wanted to make her suffer as he’d suffered, but he sucked it up and tossed her wallet onto the table.
Kate studied the slight tic along his jawline, the faraway flicker in his eyes, and waited for the moment she could reach for the Taser.
“Robear. I might have known, no junk for a Robear.”
His words knifed into her mind. There was contempt in his voice. His body stiffened and revulsion flared in his eyes.
What did he know about her family?
As if lost in some distant memory he looked away for a second.
Attack. She grabbed the Taser and jerked to the right, avoiding his bear-paw swipe.
The device came to life like a live-voltage wire. She slammed the weapon to his thigh and pushed the button. A muscle-incapacitating zap hissed into his body. He stumbled back and collapsed.
She fell forward onto her knees and stared at the man laid out in front of her.
His eyes were wide with surprise, but he lay motionless.
She crawled toward him, determined to get the key before the Taser gun’s effect wore off. He was fit. It wouldn’t take long for him to regain his motor skills. She shoved her hand into his pocket and felt through its contents. Change. Pocketknife. She brushed the elongated metal shaft of the padlock key with her fingertips, pinched it and pulled her hand out.
Sticky red liquid coated her fingers.
Blood.
Her heart raced in her chest as one horrible thought chased another. She stared at the man sprawled on the concrete floor. He was bleeding. Could she leave him here? What if his injury was serious? He could die in front of her.
She slipped the key into her pocket and edged close to him. “You’re hurt. I’m going to have a look, but if you so much as touch me, you’ll get this again.” She jabbed the weapon at him.
He blinked.
Kate’s hand trembled as she pushed his jacket aside and pulled his T-shirt out of his waistband. Carefully she moved the blood-soaked fabric up, trying to avoid touching his bare skin. Under all that black, he was muscular, taut and seething. She sucked in a breath. If masculinity was a crime, he’d be doing life, and if he weren’t incapacitated, she was certain he’d have her on the ground with his hands around her throat.
The thought of her son slammed into her mind like a tidal wave. She stopped. What would happen to Cody if she wasn’t there to take care of him? This man could do that. Take her life.
She swallowed the knowledge and returned to her task. She couldn’t let him bleed to death. She had to take a chance.
A trail of blood crisscrossed his chest. “You must have taken some buckshot when you were in the trunk.” She looked into his face for confirmation.
He blinked.
“It looks bad.” She still hadn’t found the source of the blood trail.
Pushing the shirt higher, she brushed his bare skin with her fingertips.
He groaned.
A wave of warmth burst inside of her and rushed to her cheeks. She let out a labored breath and stared at the spot just above his heart and slightly to the left where a pellet had burned a trail, marring his perfect chest.
“I’m dialing 911.” She stood up, riffling through the stuff on the table for her phone. She reached for it at the same time his hand wrapped around her ankle.
Hot…relentless…inescapable.
Chapter Two
He jerked hard, pulling her off balance. Her right hand slammed against the tabletop, the Taser dislodged from her grip and clattered onto the floor.
She hit the ground.
In slow motion, he pulled her toward him.
Elbows against the concrete floor, her heart pounded and she kicked, swimming against a wave of fear that threatened to drown her, but he was too strong.
Catching sight of the Taser, she reached for it, straining to touch it in a final desperate move.
One more second and she would be his, but he suddenly let go. Hope for survival surged in her veins. She sat up and fixed her gaze on him.
He pulled himself upright and leaned against the front tire of the Beamer. “Kate Robear. Detective Mick Jacoby. New Orleans Police Department, auto theft division.” He held the badge in his hand like a trophy. “Battery on an officer is a crime.”
She tried to shut out his words, but an image of Cody staring at her through prison glass was the only thing that came into focus.
“Can’t we work this out? You never identified yourself as a cop. I thought you were going to kill me.”
He sat very still. His chiseled features as hard as stone. She didn’t know if her reasoning could find a catch hold, but she had to try.
“You locked us in here together. I deserve an explanation for that.” He continued to watch her with eyes the color of shallow seawater.
“I’m not a car thief.” Desperation diced her composure to bits. “This car has been repossessed, legally. I have the paperwork. I didn’t steal it.”
“Prove it. Take me back to Otis’s.”
“You can’t be serious. You’re in no condition to go anywhere but Mercy Hospital.”
“I hope you like jail.”
Her pulse jackhammered at her temples. He wanted to go back into the swamp?
“You’ve got a first aid kit.”
“You’re nuts. He shot at us. At me. Who’s to say he won’t kill us next time?” The thought rattled her bones.
“Get the kit.”
