by LENA DIAZ,
Four more rounds exploded through the trees and hurled her back into the moment. Raleigh returned fire until the gun clicked empty. She tossed his backup weapon. Wouldn’t do them a damn bit of good in these woods. She’d stashed go bags all over this mountainside, including the one she’d hidden a few yards away. Except there was no extra ammunition for Beckett’s revolver. She drowned the hurt that’d been bottling inside for the hundredth time and pulled him deeper off the trail. “I don’t think you have a choice.”
Needles and leaves scratched at her skin as they ran into the trees. Another gunshot rang loud in her ears but arced wide. The sun had set behind the mountain. There was no way their attacker could spot them now, but hiking through the woods in the middle of the night brought on its own set of problems. She had to get to the first supply bag she’d buried before the shooter caught up with them.
No pressure.
Beckett’s strong grip wrapped around her arm and pulled her into his chest. She planted the sides of her hands above his heart for balance, and heat surged into her neck and face at the contact. Hard muscle shifted beneath her fingers, his breath light on her skin, and suddenly the weeks—months—since she’d last touched him disappeared. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“I’m sorry—I thought we were concerned about the gunman shooting at us.” Only the outline of his shadow and the feel of his heartbeat beneath her palm registered in the darkness. Too close. Too real. Too painful. The small life growing inside her fluttered, and it took every ounce of strength she had not to smooth her palm over her stomach in assurance. Raleigh pressed away and wrenched out of his grip. “We need to keep moving.”
A small click preceded the beam of a flashlight from behind, but she kept pushing one foot in front of the other. He’d come prepared with a flashlight. Always the Boy Scout. “Whatever you’re planning, it won’t work.”
She slowed, the weight of his attention, even in the dark, a physical pressure along her spine. Insects quieted, a light breeze rustling the dead foliage at her feet. Temperatures had already started to drop, but the emotional pain she’d ignored earlier bubbled to the surface. “All I’m planning to do, Beckett, is survive.” She faced him, raising her hands against the brightness of the flashlight. “Because in case you’ve forgotten, the only person I told about the missing donation funds is presumably dead, and someone just tried to shoot us.”
“I’m supposed to believe those two situations are linked? Hell, for all I know, that could’ve been an accomplice getting even when you took off with the money.” He lowered the flashlight to his side, his weapon still unholstered. Would he shoot her? After everything they’d been through, had her arrest really brought her so low in his eyes? “You’re one of the most intelligent women I’ve come across, Raleigh. You could’ve set up this entire charade to insert yourself back in my life, planning to get a US marshal on your side of things, but it won’t work. You and I are done. Pretending you’re in danger isn’t going to change that.”
Guess that answered her question. He’d made up his mind about their future the moment Portland Police Bureau had put the cuffs on her, and there was nothing she could do to change it. Fine. Raleigh swallowed the rejection charging up her throat and leveled her chin with the ground. He wanted the truth? She’d give him more truth than he could handle. “I’m pregnant, Beckett. With your baby.”
“What?” The flashlight beam shook in his hand, his voice barely audible over the breeze sweeping through the woods.
“You can accuse me of whatever you want. Embezzlement, orchestrating Calvin’s death, planning some elaborate scenario in which I play the damsel in distress to get your protection. I don’t care.” Lie. What they’d had... It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Raleigh rolled her shoulders back, then closed in on him, the fury tearing through her uncontrollable. “The only thing that matters to me is clearing my name so I can give this baby the life they deserve.”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t even move.
She turned her back on him, forcing herself deeper into the forest. “And I’m not going to let you stop me.”
Copyright © 2020 by Natascha Jaffa
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ISBN-13: 9781488067112
Agent Under Siege
Copyright © 2020 by Lena Diaz
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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