CARLOS CLUTCHED THE steering wheel. This was exactly why he had to get the first crack at this informant, find out what she knew about the Anguis. How had she recognized him when no one else in the past sixteen years had?
He’d never even met this woman before today. He slowed the Jeep, still needing to get her tucked down beneath the dash. “Why would you say that?”
She scoffed, but the raspy sound came out on a slip of terror. “I’ve been waiting on Durand to send someone.”
Carlos released the breath he’d been holding, expecting to hear how she knew him. She only thought he’d been sent by Durand to kidnap her.
“You think just because I’m Hispanic that I’m part of Durand’s group?”
She swung around, squinting at him as she churned on his answer. “You’re not?”
“No. Now, will you scoot down before someone blows your head to pieces?” He gave the Jeep gas and eased forward.
Gabrielle tried to comprehend what he was saying. Not Anguis? Then who was this guy? His last words finally registered-the comment about getting her head blown off.
She scrunched her body down into as small a ball as she could make, but she’d never been small so the ball was more a misshapen blob.
The man driving had all the attributes she’d ever mentally assigned an Anguis soldier, from the olive skin to thick black hair and lashes to a body built for power.
Danger radiated from him in shock waves.
He cut his gaze at her for a brief moment. Keen eyes assessed her with concern that didn’t fit the image she’d conjured of an Anguis soldier.
She would have expected mean, beady eyes.
Brisk air buffeted collar-length black hair around his neck, the soft locks a sharp contrast to the hard jawline and tense mouth. Attractive, in a deadly sort of way. What would he do with her?
A shiver ran along her spine.
If Durand hadn’t sent this rogue interloper, then whom was this guy working with? Not law enforcement or he wouldn’t have shot Agent Morton.
She glanced up when the Jeep took a curve around the broken poplar tree that had snapped in a recent storm. That meant they were close to the street…where someone might be waiting for them?
Such as the person who had cut the DEA agent’s throat?
“What about a bullet hitting you?” Gabrielle asked her captor. If this guy was shot while driving and wrecked the Jeep, she might end up a human pretzel.
“I’ll be fine. No more talking,” he ordered, but in a less menacing tone.
He wheeled the Jeep in an abrupt left turn off the driveway before reaching the mailbox. She stretched her neck to see why.
The Jeep idled next to a dark-colored sport utility parked in the woods. He leaned over, stared at something inside the vehicle and cursed, then backed up to the driveway…and cursed again. He accelerated hard, lurching the Jeep forward, and spinning a wheel when he swung onto the street.
A loud ping echoed before the windshield cracked and spiderwebbed.
She lifted up.
“Stay the hell down!” He downshifted and rammed the accelerator again, fishtailing the Jeep one way, then the next.
Another shot ripped through the soft top and zinged off the dash.
Gabrielle ducked her head and clung to the seat. She pressed a hand on the wall next to the floorboard to wedge herself in as tightly as she could. Air roared through the open windows.
“Where are we going?” she asked. Her fingernails dug into the seat cushion.
He ignored her.
After two more turns, he floored the gas then skidded to a stop. Stinking rubber filled the cab. He quickly shifted the Jeep into reverse and backed up as fast as they’d been going forward.
Tires on another vehicle close by screeched against the pavement.
Speeding in Peachtree City was not a wise idea since this small community had its own police department that patrolled the highways. Tangling with law enforcement would make her an easy target for Durand, but getting arrested had a certain appeal when people were shooting at her.
Hard to decide the lesser of two deadly options, but she doubted this guy was going to give her a choice.
Another shot pinged off the inside of the windshield. This one drew a snarl of curses from her driver in Spanish. Blood trickled down the side of his cheek.
Help him or not?
She didn’t even know who he was or whom he worked for. He’d shot a DEA agent, so what did that say about him?
Bad guy, to put it in simple terms.
Still, he was working real hard to keep her alive and out of someone’s hands. Maybe Anguis soldiers.
Gabrielle reached under the seat for a rag she kept there to clean the windshield when needed and handed it up to him. “Here.”
He glanced, did a double take, then snatched the rag and wiped blood that had run into his eyes. He tossed the cloth down against the base of the shifter and yanked the wheel hard to the left.
She barely caught herself. What seemed like forever had probably taken all of ten minutes when he finally slowed down and said, “Think we lost them.”
“Can I get up?”
“No.”
Antagonizing this guy was not a bright idea, but she had to find some sort of mutual ground for any hope of catching him with his guard down so she could escape. Couldn’t let him know how terrified she was.
She licked her lips and tried again. “Where are you going?”
“Not where I’d originally planned.”
How about a straight answer? Gabrielle unclenched her fisted hands and took a couple breaths. Now was the time for patience, not ripping at him, but she was edgy from exhaustion and vibrating from the quick release of an adrenaline rush.
She kept silent while he made two sharp turns, then parked. He left the engine running and switched the headlights off. “You can get up for a minute.”
About time. She arched her back and tried to get traction with her knees.
“Here.” He reached over, cupped her under the arms, and lifted her out of the hole. That he did it so easily told her just how strong this guy was, because she was no lightweight.
As soon as she had some balance, he released her and flipped open his phone, text-messaging someone. He scowled.
“What’s wrong?” Her pulse jackhammered in her ears.
“No signal.”
She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself, and looked around. The first street sign she recognized meant they were located in the south end of the city, just off Peachtree Parkway. “This is one of two areas I always lose calls. Think we’re in a pocket between cell towers.”
Sirens whined in the distance.
Her stomach growled.
His look of surprise would have been funny in different circumstances. “Hungry?”
“No.” She’d had one meal in two days, but the thought of eating right now nauseated her. She propped an elbow on the door frame and supported her aching head on her hand.
“Who are you working with?” He gripped the steering wheel with one hand, tapping a finger and eyes distant as though he worked on a thought.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t jerk me around,” he warned.
Getting yelled at snapped the last link to her patience.
Damn the consequences. She lifted her head and turned to him. “Well, I don’t know anything about you other than you killed a DEA agent, so I’m not in the frame of mind to be jerked around either.”
“I didn’t kill him,” he muttered, then paused and hit her with a look of disbelief. “You thought the guy I shot was DEA?”
Her stomach did a roll at the incredulity in his voice. “He had ID. He is…was Special Agent Curt Morton.”
“Shit.”
She really didn’t like the sound of that. “I don’t understand.”
“Curt Morton has been missing for two weeks, which means if Baby Face had his ID then Curt is most likely dead.”
She rubbed her head, trying to piece it all together. “Who is Baby Face?”
“The man you were leaving with was Baby Face Jones.”
“Who is he…what does he do?” She had a sick feeling she wasn’t going to like the answer.
“He’s a…mercenary who does errands.”
“Like kidnapping?”
“So you weren’t leaving with him voluntarily?”
She shook her head. “No. I thought he was DEA and he threatened me if I didn’t go with him. So is he a kidnapper?” Sacre bleu, sacre bleu…she’d been walking into a trap.
“Kidnapping is side work. His real expertise is electronic crimes, plus he tortures intelligence agents for marketable information when he can nail one.”
Dots floated in her vision. “Who are you?” she asked in a strained voice. “Are you with the DEA?”
“Carlos. I’m not DEA. Who are you?”
“Gabrielle…Parker.”
“Right.” That snicker of skepticism was in his voice again. “We have to move. I need a tower.”
“Was that sport utility in my driveway yours?” she wondered aloud. Everyone seemed to show up at her rental house on foot.
“No.” He scanned around them while he put the Jeep into gear and flipped the headlights on. “Scoot back down.”
“Who sent Baby Face?”
“I don’t know and don’t care until I find out where my partner is.”
“Do you and your partner work for-”
“-no one you’d know.”
That wasn’t encouraging. “What do you want with me?”
He ignored her again. “Get back down.”
Going to the police would create all sorts of problems for her, but she was starting to reconsider that if her next best option was dying or being tortured.
That didn’t even take into consideration what this Carlos had planned for her. Where did he stand with law enforcement?
“We could knock on a door and ask the residents to call the police,” she suggested. Not a bad idea since it would give her a chance to escape this guy.
“No police.” Carlos turned a grim face to her. “If we get out of here alive and find a freakin’ tower, I can contact my people.”
No police. My people. That sure as the devil didn’t sound like someone aligned with law enforcement.
She pushed her body back into a wad between the seat and the floorboard, wet, cold, and scared. Mostly scared.
He kept his speed moderate, driving as if he were a model citizen for several miles. She wrenched her wrist around to see the time, clenching her teeth to stop the chattering.
She took advantage of his silence to plot where to find public transportation and which way to head for a new hiding place once she broke free of him. Accessing funds would take time, but she kept money stashed in several remote locations.
Planning for survival beat thinking about how close she’d come to being caught by Baby Face or wondering what Carlos had in mind for her.
Carlos punched numbers in his phone whenever his shifting hand was free. Something must have gone through since he started talking.
“Lee check in?” he asked without even saying hello. Pause. Curse. “Send cleanup to the location. I’ve got the source, but I’m in a traffic jam. I need-” He pulled the phone from his head, stared at the tiny cell phone, and lifted it as if to slam the device against the steering wheel.
But he didn’t, closing the phone with a finger.
Lost call again?
Gabrielle couldn’t see streetlights any longer from her position. Just pitch dark. “We’re not in a traffic jam. We’re in the country.”
“Yep.”
“I’m getting up if no one is chasing us.”
He reached over and used one hand this time to lift her out of the hole. His grip was strong, but he handled her…gently. She would have pulled away when she plopped on the seat, but he released her immediately, his large hands returning to the task of driving.
Gentle hands…capable of killing.
Carlos hadn’t harmed her. Yet. Was he any safer than Baby Face? She shivered, glad not to have gone with that monster.
That had been too close.
She stretched her back muscles and rubbed her cold arms. Her clothes had reached that damp, icky state.
“Now what?” Gabrielle swiveled her head, squinting to make out landmarks. They were on Highway 54 just south of Highway 16. Wide-open pastures and rolling countryside spotted with stately homes.
“Soon as I get another tower, I’ll get us out of here,” Carlos told her. He sounded irritated, and tired.
She shouldn’t care. Maybe he was tired because he’d kidnapped a couple more women tonight already. But he was standing between her and death so she’d help as much as she could until he proved to be a threat.
Confidence had been easy when she hid from the Anguis behind a computer. The keyboard had been her sword and anonymity her shield. But survival now depended on showing her strength in spite of quaking inside.
Escaping this guy would take more skill than she possessed.
Familiarity bred confidence. No matter how many one-word irritating replies he gave her, she had to keep him talking and hope he finally started communicating.
“Any signal yet?”
He shook his head without looking at her.
“Reception is even spottier south of the city.” She regretted sharing that information when his jaw flexed with frustration.
“I can check my phone for a tower,” she offered, reaching where she had it hooked on her pants waist.
“Is it waterproof?”
“No, but-” She pressed the power button since it was dark. Nothing happened. “It’s dead. Is yours waterproof?”
Carlos gave her a look that questioned her IQ level.
“No.” She pitched her phone into the back and sighed. Thank goodness her laptop hadn’t been drenched. She’d run solo for ten years. No help, no real friends, since she’d moved every two years to make tracking her more difficult. With the exception of rare visits to see her family, she’d spent more time with this guy tonight than with anyone else in years.
If Carlos hadn’t come along, she’d have been gone and no one would have known. She fought against the idea of trusting this stranger, but had to admit she didn’t have much choice right now. So far, he’d earned something from her even if she couldn’t call it trust.
That didn’t mean she’d stick with him if she saw a chance to run, but no harm in playing along in the meantime. Her stomach growled loud enough to be heard over the buffeting wind.
She rubbed at her pounding head, then reached between the seats for her backpack, which was now on the rear floorboard.
His hand shot out to stop her. “What are you doing?”
“Getting something for my headache,” she snapped before she could check her tone. Not a bright idea to yell at a man with a gun. Gabrielle sighed. “Getting shot at tends to give me a headache.”
The corners of his eyes narrowed as if in question, then his face turned hard, but he released her then thumbed a button on his phone. He watched every move she made. Once her hand returned with a small travel tube of aspirin, he settled back into his seat, wrists flexing with tight control on the steering wheel.
She lifted the tube to unscrew the cap.
He suddenly stuck his head out the window, looking over his shoulder, then jerked back inside. She paused.
An approaching whomp, whomp, whomp reached her ears.
She stuck her head out her side. Wind swatted hair all around her face. She shoved a handful out of her eyes in time to see the lights of a jet helicopter bearing down on them.
“Get inside!” Carlos stuck the phone into his jeans pocket and downshifted. “Buckle up!”
Dropping the aspirin, she wrenched the belt across her chest and stabbed twice before she clipped the buckle. The minute she did, popping sounds hit the rear of the Jeep.
Gunshots.
He grabbed her around the shoulders as the Jeep took a hard left toward a pasture. When he pulled her toward him, his hand cupped her face protectively just before the Jeep crashed against a wooden gate in their path. Busted wood slapped the windshield and debris pelted her arms, but she didn’t feel a cut. As soon as they were through the fence, he released her and fought the steering across the rutted field.
The helicopter dropped out of nowhere to hover just above the ground at fifty feet, blocking their path to dense woods. Wind lashing off the rotors shook the Jeep.
Gunfire ripped loose, boom, boom, boom. Bullets struck the hood.
Carlos spun the Jeep to the right, lifting up on two wheels, then slammed back down. He gunned the accelerator, but the helicopter roared overhead and dropped down again to land between them and the clearest path to the woods.
Moonlight glinted off three men spilling out of both sides of the helicopter, including the pilot. They ducked under the slowing rotors, and every one of them held serious-looking weapons. Machine guns?
Popping sounds erupted. One bullet ripped through Gabrielle’s side of the Jeep, but missed her.
She would have screamed if she could breathe. They were going to die.
“Tuck down!” Carlos spun the Jeep in a one-eighty, shooting his handgun as he wheeled around.
She obeyed immediately, wishing she could disappear. With her head turned to the side of her lap, she could see beyond the half door that offered no protection.
One of the shooters went down.
The Jeep took a hard left, then plowed ahead full speed into the woods as if Carlos had found a path.
She popped upright. No path.
The older pine and oak trees with thick trunks were at least spaced wider apart than the width of the Jeep, so far. Her heart bounced with the hope of escaping this bunch. Then, God willing, she’d get away from Carlos. He might have been right about the DEA guy being Baby Face, or he could have been lying to her.
All of them could be lying to her.
She twisted around, looking for anyone chasing them.
“Fuck!” Carlos skidded the Jeep to a stop and slapped the steering wheel.
No translation was needed this time to alert her things had just gone severely downhill. She took one glance at the ravine in front of them flooded by the headlights and agreed with his assessment.
He rammed the shifter into reverse and started backing up wildly. Or at least it would have been wild if she’d been driving, but he seemed just as in control backing through the woods at sixty miles an hour as driving forward on a highway at ninety.
He slammed to a stop and wheeled hard to the right, running along the ravine, snapping saplings with sharp cracks.
A loud explosion boomed right before a smoke screen billowed in front of them with no chance to avoid it. The Jeep ran up on a stump that lifted the two passenger-side wheels off the ground.
Her body tilted toward the driver’s door.
She clamped her teeth against the scream gushing up from her chest and grappled for anything to anchor herself.
Carlos released the wheel and threw his weight toward her, grabbing and turning her body to his. Glowing dash lights lit his face. “I’ve got you.”
In that one fleeting instant, she thanked whatever angel had sent him to her. She didn’t know who he was or whom he worked for, but this man was trying to protect her with his life.
He held her tightly, still shielding her as their Jeep hurtled out of control.
The Jeep slammed a tree on the left, jarring her teeth, then counterbounced to the right, throwing her body back and forth, but he never let her go. The cab hit another tree and knocked it sideways, spraying broken glass everywhere.
His arms and body had covered her, preventing her from being injured.
When they stopped moving, she was clutching him and trying to breathe.
His chest expanded with a couple deep breaths, then settled into a rhythm of control she envied. He released her and tried to gun the engine forward, then in reverse. They were stuck on top of something and didn’t have enough traction to get free. He cut the engine and turned to her; his eyes took her in with one quick sweep.
“You okay?” The concern in his voice might be her imagination, but she needed it right then.
“I think so.” She still clutched him.
He reached across her arms to grasp a triangular glass shard stuck in his forearm and grunted. Blood gushed from his arm the minute he yanked the glass plug loose. He tossed it aside and calmly unclipped her seat belt, then unclenched her fingers so he could release his buckle.
She took a couple deep breaths to calm herself, but all things considered, she wasn’t doing half bad. She was holding herself together, prepared to face whatever came next.
At least, she was until Carlos brushed her hair back out of her eyes with a tenderness that threatened to unleash the hysteria curling up her chest.
Her face must have given her away.
He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. “Don’t panic. You okay?”
The kiss comforted her almost as much as seeing an army charge to the rescue. “Oui” was all her strained mind could come up with. She had to pull herself together. Now!
“Let’s go.”
“You keep saying that as if it were no big deal and it only gets worse.” She scrunched her nose at the acrid smell left from the smoke screen they had broken through.
“Don’t make any sudden moves.” He lifted his cell phone, listened, sighed, and stuck it in his pants pocket. She had no idea where his weapon came from, but he had a lethal-looking gun in his hand again when he stepped out of the truck.
She’d never been around weapons and couldn’t get used to seeing so many of them.
He kept gazing all around the Jeep while reaching in with one hand to help her out on his side. Hers was crunched. He cut off the headlights.
“Do we still have a chance?” she asked in a whisper.
“Not right now,” Carlos answered just as softly.
Two men stepped into a shaft of moonlight flooding a rise fifty feet away. One carried a rifle he pointed at her and Carlos. The other guy held what she would guess was a grenade launcher-based on what she’d seen in movies-at his shoulder. Now that she thought about it, that was probably what launched the smoke bomb.
“Follow my lead until we get a chance to escape,” Carlos whispered. “You’re just some chick I dated. Got it?”
Just when Gabrielle was ready to admit defeat, the confidence in those words stoked another rush of belief in this man. She nodded, ready to fight as long as he did.
The two men strolled forward until the one with the automatic weapon held on them stopped a few feet away. “Hello, Carlos.”
“Hola, Turga.”
“Toss your weapon and cell phone away.”
Carlos complied. “You have a falling-out with Baby Face?”
Gabrielle hid her surprise at how Carlos and this man talked like old friends.
“No’ really.” Turga would be invisible if not for the whites of his eyes. He was black everywhere, face and hands, clothes, knit cap, boots and weapon. A heavy smell of cigarettes burdened the fresh air not tinged by the smoke bomb. His English came out in a choppy Turkish accent. “Baby Face became unavoidable casualty. Good thing he found her first.”
“What do you want her for?” Carlos made it sound as if Gabrielle’s only value had been supplying him with a vehicle.
“Very funny. You after same thing.”
“After what?” Carlos snorted. “Baby Face had business with me, not her.”
“Really? So you know of his big deal?” Turga eyed him warily, but Carlos had planted a seed of curiosity.
Carlos shrugged. “Didn’t get a chance to hear the whole deal and didn’t really give a shit when I caught him trying to grab my woman.”
Turga snorted as if unconvinced.
“Let her go, Turga. She’s just made the mistake of getting involved with me.”
Gabrielle gave Carlos her solid vote right then. She didn’t know who Baby Face or Turga were, but Carlos was the only one in present company who hadn’t tried to kill her.
“You think I’m stupid?” Turga asked in a tone that rippled across Gabrielle’s skin. “Prove she’s your woman.”
How could he possibly prove that? Not that Gabrielle wasn’t prepared to back him up and agree to anything Carlos said, but doubt took root in her exhausted mind.
Carlos sighed. “Fine.”
He turned to her. She looked up at his face, determined to do her best to convince Turga they were together.
But she wasn’t as prepared as she’d thought when Carlos pulled her into his arms and dipped his head. He covered her mouth with his, kissing her with more passion than any other man she’d ever kissed. He held her safe, protected.
She hadn’t been held or hugged in years.
Her defenses fell without a battle.
Her heart raced along with the frenzy of nerves and wild desire that spiraled up out of nowhere. She curved her hands around his neck, clutching. He drew her closer. The kiss overwhelmed her senses, drowning her in pleasure.
She moaned.
“Okay, enough,” Turga ordered, then scowled when Carlos continued. “Give me a break.”
Carlos slowly lifted his lips from hers, paused, and touched her lips once more briefly, then peeled her off him.
When he moved her to his side, he kept his arm protectively around her shoulders.
She worked to keep her knees from buckling.
Carlos tightened his grasp on her shoulders, which she took as a silent message to hang on and pull herself together.
She reached around his waist and squeezed to let him know she had it together.
One side of his mouth curved up, acknowledging her message. “Let her go,” Carlos repeated. “She won’t say a word.”
Turga stepped close to Carlos and smiled, the white teeth glowing against his dark face. “Don’t think so. You cost me good man. Eye for an eye, and all that.”
“Don’t tell me you actually care about losing someone.”
Turga’s grin widened. “Very funny. No, but he was better shot than that one.” He tilted his head at the other guy holding the grenade launcher.
“Unavoidable casualty.” Carlos smiled sarcastically.
Turga flipped his rifle quickly and used the stock like a club to ram Carlos in the stomach.
He broke away from Gabrielle, bent double with a pained grunt, then sucked a breath and straightened.
She reached for him and Turga grabbed her.
Carlos snarled and moved so fast Gabrielle had no idea how he’d jerked her away from Turga and pushed her behind him.
Turga flipped the rifle up in just as quick a motion, which ended with the tip of the barrel an inch from Carlos’s nose.
“Should kill you right now, but only a careless man wastes a resource without first bleeding it dry. One wrong move and I wound her. Start walking.” Turga motioned toward the helicopter with his rifle.
She let Carlos take her backpack, but Gabrielle wasn’t handing her laptop over to anyone as long as she had a choice. Carlos walked them both ahead of Turga and kept a snug grip on her arm. When they reached the edge of the woods, an explosion rocked the ground.
She swung around to see flames bloom from where her Jeep had been and the second guy running toward them.
Guess that was a grenade launcher he toted.
Sirens wailed from the highway, growing louder.
Gabrielle stumbled on the rutted ground next to the helicopter, and Carlos caught her at the waist. He lifted her inside the craft, then climbed in, settling next to her on the backseat.
Turga pushed the dead body in at their feet.
She drew back in revulsion.
Carlos leaned close. “Look out the window and breathe through your mouth.”
Turga shoved his rifle out of the way and turned a handgun on them that looked like the one Carlos had carried. Turga’s partner climbed into the pilot’s seat and started the motor.
Two police cruisers and a fire truck raced along the highway, then the lead car skidded into a turn as the helicopter blades hit full spin and caught air.
One cruiser cut through the now open gate, bouncing toward them.
The jet helicopter lifted with a lurch, flying barely over the top of the cruiser, then picking up altitude as they swung in a wide arc and flew over the woods where smoke rose from Gabrielle’s poor Jeep.
An arm circled her shoulders.
She turned to ask Carlos where he thought they were going, but her teeth were chattering so hard she was afraid she’d bite her tongue if she spoke. Shock had set in and cold clothes weren’t helping. Her whole body vibrated.
Carlos was warm, though. Why wasn’t he cold?
Who cared? She soaked up heat and comfort from his imposing body.
Gabrielle couldn’t believe she’d been so naïve as to think Durand Anguis was her biggest threat.
Warm breath brushed along the skin of her neck when Carlos leaned his face near her ear and spoke. “Just do what they say. I’ll figure a way out of this.” He rubbed the hand on her shoulder up and down her arm, then brushed a lock of hair off her face with a finger.
Her brain stumbled at the endearing action. How was she supposed to interpret his moves?
“So who is she, Carlos?” Turga raised his voice over the roar of the motor.
“I told you.” Carlos cupped her face and kissed her gently again. Had that been to soothe her or convince their kidnapper? Lifting his gaze to Turga, Carlos pulled her close, possessively. “Just been dating.”
Emotions scurried to find a home, but she couldn’t sort through the rash of reactions his touch and kiss provoked.
Carlos was trying to divert their attention from her so the least she could do for now was play along with his charade. She slipped an arm around his waist and hugged against his chest, her gaze jumping to catch their kidnapper’s assessment.
Turga made no sound or action to indicate his thoughts.
Moving his free hand to the arm she’d wrapped across his chest, Carlos rubbed up and down slowly then kissed her hair.
She was in over her head in this deadly game, but playing along with a man who looked like Carlos was no hardship. She’d sworn off hot men for relationships, which hadn’t been difficult since her lifestyle made dating unrealistic. Pretending with Carlos was safe. But marrying a male icon ten years ago who was just last year listed as one of the world’s top fifty most desirable men had been emotional suicide.
To-die-for faces and ripped bodies hadn’t appealed to her since divorcing that jerk Roberto.
But she did feel an odd pull toward Carlos that she could only attribute to the situation she was in. His very presence screamed strength and confidence.
Now that was attractive and tempting.
She believed he just might get them out of this.
Indecision camped out in Turga’s gaze. “You don’t keep women for more than one night.”
“Got comfortable.” Carlos leaned down and kissed her cheek, so tenderly her insides turned mushy. His arms tightened around her and her heart skipped a beat. She’d never felt protected or cared for. Not the way she did at this minute.
Even though Carlos was pretending, he was doing a better job than her miserable ex-husband had on their wedding night.
But Carlos was not with law enforcement.
Like that really mattered right now given their dire situation?
“We shall see.” Turga didn’t say another word until they landed fifteen minutes later in the parking lot at the rear of a building with a FOR LEASE sign on several doors. The pilot left the rotors spinning slowly and climbed out.
Turga jumped down from his seat, his rifle slung over his shoulder and the handgun pointed at her. This whole scene was too bizarre to comprehend. Guns, grenade launchers, jet helicopters. Deaths.
She couldn’t think about that and function.
Gabrielle waited on Carlos to climb down first, then he turned to help her. When he lowered her to the ground in front of him, he pulled her into a quick hug and whispered, “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Rather than risk losing a grip on her emotions, she nodded. She didn’t know this man, didn’t know why he had come for her or whom he worked with, but he was diverting all danger from her.
“Enough. Walk,” Turga ordered.
As they backed away from the helicopter, the pilot peeled black vinyl off the tail section that had covered the aircraft registration numbers. Carlos kept his arm around her waist and guided them both to the closest doorway.
Gabrielle wanted to assure him she was ready to fight with him. She kept her voice low. “I’m okay. I can do this.”
“Open the door,” Turga ordered.
Carlos squeezed her waist in reply and gave her a look of admiration that warmed her. He released her to extend his hand and turn the knob, then held the door for her to enter. She stepped out of his grasp and walked boldly through the doorway.
The first thing that hit her was an overpowering metallic smell that gagged her.
The second was the image of a bloody body hanging thirty yards away against a wall.
Her knees buckled.