He cleared his throat and foraged a path through the woods. "I have to assume the cops are seconds away from the gas station. So, forget our pickup truck. It was rented with an alias anyway. No biggie."
"Drake?"
"Yes, doll?"
He stepped through the thicket and pushed low-hanging branches away from her. She nestled against his chest.
"Thank you for saving me. Again." She paused for a heartbeat. "Is it going to stop?"
The innocence of her words overwhelmed him. He growled with heated emotion. Anger. Possessiveness. "Yes, it's going to stop. So don't worry about it. I'm going to fix all of it."
McKay dropped his chin to her silky, tangled hair and breathed her in. Her hair pressed against his skin, tempting his control. Despite the day, she still smelled like butterscotch and vanilla. He heard a sigh that caught him off guard. It was his sigh. He rolled his eyes but sighed again, pressing his lips to her forehead and letting what could've been a chaste kiss linger.
She tightened her muscles in his arms and stiffened. "Please don't do that."
He knew he shouldn't have. He stepped over more branches and pushed another thorny branch away from her. Why did he put his lips on her skin? She was scared, and he was on the job. If there was a better reminder of that than a shootout at a gas station, he didn't know what it was. He could lie and say the gesture was to comfort her, but then he'd be lying to himself. "I'm sorry about that. I don't know what came over me."
That was the hundredth apology for the day. It had to be a record considering he apologized… never, whether he should have or not. Strange. Tessa challenged him in a way he didn't know was possible. Strange didn't even begin to describe it.
"You should be sorry." She looked tart. Her lips pursed together, and the bridge of her nose scrunched in a wrinkle.
That was one confusing look. This was why he shouldn't mix it up with her. Why he didn't mix it up with any woman who wanted more than an exchange of first names. Then again, he liked knowing that Tessa was Tessa Thompson. Whatever. His blood sugar must've been low or something. He continued to cover the ground in search of the car.
"Do you want to explain the attitude?" Was he auditioning for Dr. Phil's job? Maybe Oprah needed a hand on her soulful Sundays?
"I heard you back at the gas station. I love you?" She mocked. "I heard you talking to your wife or girlfriend or whatever."
He laughed. This is funny. Of course she heard him. He knew she was too close. This was funny, but he kept that to himself, instead opting to tighten his hold. More of a hug, really.
An abandoned car sat on an access road, he closed the distance like he just saw a sign screaming it was two-for-one freebie day at Glock and Company. She fought the hold, pushing her shoulders away from him, but he couldn't have cared less, and he worked to not chuckle out loud.
"You're cute when you're jealous," he said and kissed her nose.
She hissed and squirmed in his arms again. Her backside unintentionally rubbed on his forearm.
He might not live through this day. "Tessa, would you cut that out? You're distracting me."
"No. I'm out of here." Rub, rub, rub.
"Right. And where you going?"
"It doesn't concern you."
She was too much. Enough with all the snark and scoots. They got to him. With each sway of her backside, he was digging his grave. Each time he hit the rocky bottom, he'd just start over fresh.
He stopped at the car. "Here you go. Down as you requested. Your chariot awaits."
She crossed her arms and tapped a bare foot.
"Fine. We can do this again." He scooped her up, jacked open the passenger door, and plopped her in, then moved to the driver's seat. The keys were in the ignition. Excellent—easier than hot-wiring the thing. He twisted the key. The sedan turned over and idled. The radio came on, and Tessa pressed buttons on the radio. Static talk radio and garbled country music stations filtered in through the speakers.
"You're testy when you're like this. It's cute." He repositioned his seat and chuckled. "This whole jealous thing is adorable."
She jammed the buttons on the radio harder. "Jealous? You're a piece of work."
"Why are you mad? Is this about earlier? You grabbed onto me as much as I held onto you."
"Would you be quiet?"
He laughed. "Not used to having your own white knight?"
"Give me a break."
"Or, are you upset that you wanted to be that close to me?" He slid the tip of a finger from her cheek to her chin.
She batted it away, hard. "White knight? Are you insane?"
"Maybe."
Oh, if looks could kill, McKay would've been in a body bag on the way to the morgue. But he loved to needle her. "All this attitude because you were eavesdropping and heard me say 'I love you'."
She turned up the static on the radio loud enough it hurt his ears. Calling her out wasn't the best move he had in his arsenal but better than ignoring her.
He turned the volume down, steered them back on to the road with one hand draped over the steering wheel, and followed the road's turn as it passed by the gas station. As expected, blue and red flashing lights flooded the area. Local troopers combed through the store and his truck, wondering what just happened in their one gas station, two stoplight town.
If they hadn't found the bodies already, they'd be stumped. Podunk Kentucky didn't see a lot of shootouts, and it didn't have a regular body count.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After the gas station debacle and two separate motel incidents, Alonso Rojas didn't have the cipher or the lady. She was on the run with a proficient partner. Sweat soaked through his shirt. If El Jefe knew of his failures, it would be a writ of execution. Mateo Valencia was as vicious as he was creative. This was bad, but he could salvage it. Alonso's reputation and beating heart were on the line, and if ever there were a chance to prove he was worthy, it was now.
Representing the Valencia Cartel was an honor. He wouldn't fail.
The medallion under his collar stuck to his chest. He pulled it out and flipped the metal between his fingers.
Alonso was the last man standing and, like he was told by Señor Valencia, he needed to use his brains. He should have done that before, but, no, his head was too big. Hiring local criminals was a mistake. And now, those men were gone. He should have found an investment instead of a quick fix.
He knew Señor Valencia better than most. Alonso worked hard under his guidance, earned his confidence, and swore his loyalty. If he didn't complete his task, Señor Valencia would take immense pleasure in his punishment.
No, success would happen. He wouldn't doubt as he slipped the medallion back under his shirt and prayed for strength and victory.
###
McKay watched Tessa as she rolled the window down, slapping the button when it shorted out. He needed the air also. Anything to air out the stench of leftover fast food and stale smoke. The car was revolting. The steering wheel was gummy, and empty cans littered the floorboards. McKay wanted to rid himself of this clunker, but according to Safehouse, the car wasn't hot. They'd have to stick with it a little longer.
"Who are you in love with, Drake?"
Her question swung him out of autopilot. "What's it to you?"
"Never mind." She pushed away from him and leaned into the car door and sucked on her bottom lip. He could all but taste her anger. Tessa had mastered the art of a first-rate sulk, and it tested his resolve.
"Wow. You come off as so put together and analytical. I'm surprised you are into drama."
"You don't know me."
"Obviously," he said.
She turned to face him. "I have no idea who you are. I have no idea who you love. And I have no idea why…"
He smirked. "Why do you care?"
"I already said never mind. Just leave me alone."
By her tone, he realized that he'd been too harsh. But he didn't want to answer her question. He couldn't. He needed to protect himself and
should have stuck with the brilliant plan of lies.
The problem was that he didn't want to leave her alone. McKay checked over his shoulder before changing lanes, stealing a glance at her pouting lip and tight eyebrows. Tears brimmed on her bottom eyelids. I'm a tool. He looked again. Yup, tears were idling up for a free fall. Just great. Don't do that. I can't stand your tears.
But as soon as he thought it, he cringed. He didn't need her in his life. He shouldn't share anything personal. It was easier to fight with her than speak the truth, but the bickering wasn't worth her hurt feelings.
McKay shook his head at what he was about to say. His secrets were bubbling free. His typical MO had abandoned him miles ago. Right now, he'd do anything to get rid of those wet eyes.
"Don't get your panties in a twist, Tessa. I was talking to my mom."
Could he not keep his mouth shut? Work world. Personal life. Two very separate things. The two worlds didn't comingle. They shouldn't. For a million reasons, they simply could not. Loose lips sink ships. His ship was far too precious to make vulnerable. But here he was, unable to keep his lips sealed. All because some beautiful babe pouted? He glanced at her. Yeah, her angelic face would do it.
Days ago, that revelation was implausible. Today, no other choice existed. He'd knock out her hurt and jealousy like he took out the enemy who attacked her.
He wanted to explain. "My—"
"Your mom? Are you kidding me? Big, tough guy calls his mommy when he can't come home from work? You're worse than I thought."
Like an attacking rattler, she had drawn back and fired with spitting accuracy. Given this once in a lifetime bout of honesty, he didn't see it coming. But now that she'd made her move, it was game on.
"My, my, Miss Tessa. You're about to get a taste of foot in mouth syndrome."
"Try me."
"With pleasure. My mom babysits for me, doll."
"Babysits?"
"Babysits," he confirmed. "I have a daughter. She's as cute as she can be, and I'm blessed that my mom watches her when I work."
Tessa's jaw fell wide open.
"How's that foot taste?" He didn't hide his gloat. That was what he wanted to see. Tessa was dumbstruck—and too pretty for words—but with nothing sassy to say. One of his prouder moments of the day.
Still, his gut churned, anxious over his revelations. He was stupid to say this much. Yet, somehow, he needed her validation. He cast a glance her way, hoping for her reaction to justify his trust.
"I didn't know." Tessa shifted on the vinyl car seat, crossing her ankles and crunching an empty fast-food wrapper.
"Why would you know?"
"You don't seem like the fatherly type."
"I bet I don't seem like a lot of things."
She gaped. Score one for Team McKay. He couldn't shake his grin. He hadn't known he could smile this much. His cheeks hurt. They were possibly the only muscle he didn't work out on the regular.
"And the baby's mother is?"
"It's complicated." The answer was an automatic defense mechanism. His mouth again spoke before his mind gave it the okay to proceed. His attitude was meant to protect his baby but served only to deflate Tessa.
She sat still, hands folded in her lap, awaiting a simple explanation. Her brain must've been in psychoanalytic overdrive. Simple was the furthest thing from the truth. He was already facing deep waters. Time to swan dive. "On a good day, my job leads me straight to the armpit of the earth."
Tessa watched him in the dark car. He changed lanes needlessly, rubbing the back of his neck, then checked all his mirrors again, adjusting the rearview even though it was fine. Nerves punched, and he thought about backpedaling. "I like to keep my private life private."
She still didn't say anything. Must've been the therapist in her working him over. And, boy, she was good. He could barely keep the story contained. He fidgeted with the temperature controls and scanned the radio stations. Nothing but static. Stupid mountains. Tessa remained quiet, and he couldn't find anything to do other than recount the story. So, McKay dove into the truth.
"We busted up a very bad situation. Human traffickers, sex trade dealers. There weren't a lot of girls we could save, but we got some out safe, back to the States. Everyone picked up new identities. Except for one lady. A girl, in all honesty. She wouldn't. Her name was Vanessa, and she was a beauty queen look-alike with a brass set of— she was a tough one. Kind of like you." He paused, upset his mouth ran off again before the brain gave a thumbs-up. "Anyway, she wasn't going to give up her life. College. Friends. Though she had no family to speak of. Little did I know, she was pregnant. No idea who the father was. They did bad things to her."
"That's horrible." Tessa was a thousand notches quieter than when she doled out her quips.
"Vanessa went back to college in Cali, and that was the last time I heard from her. A few months later, California Child Protective Services showed up on my doorstep, newborn and diaper bag in tow. Vanessa died mysteriously. She apparently listed me as the father. And in her will, she left a key to a safety deposit box."
Tessa didn't say a word. He wasn't even sure she was breathing.
"You tell me how many college girls write out a will. None. She knew those men tracked her. She knew if anything happened to her, that baby would be safe with me. I found a note in the safety deposit box explaining everything to me. So that's who I love. My mom and my daughter."
Static played on the radio. He didn't make a move to change the dial, concentrating on the road. It was the first time he told the story to a stranger. Right now, she was anything but. Anxiety gave way to relief. Somehow, he was content in his decision to enlighten Tessa.
She slid both her warm hands over his nearest forearm. His skin tingled, and the rush carried into his chest.
"Drake, I was way off base. I'm sorry."
"There's no way you'd know. Anyway, Anna's just a little one, and she's my world. And I'm lucky to have my mom and trustworthy peeps around. That trust now extends to you. It's better you know anyway."
"Why's that?"
He'd have to explain his plan eventually…if it could be called a plan.
"Because I'm bringing you to my place until we figure out what's going on. It'd be a shade past awkward if I roll up, and all of a sudden, you have to hang with my family."
"We're going to your home?" Her fingers clenched, her nails biting into him.
He ignored her reaction and smiled in the dark. "It's the safest place I know. I have to stash us off the grid. I've never brought anyone there before, other than family and the team, so this is an adventure for both of us."
###
If Tessa had guessed what type of person Drake was, she would've been wrong. If she imagined what would transpire after deciding to get that cipher in Kentucky and go for a cross-country ride with him, she'd have been wrong on that account also. No, actually, she'd have been dead.
They barreled down the highway, on the way to his home. To his family. She shook off a shudder. No one would describe her as family-oriented. Family conjured up the worst memories, and even in her therapy practice, she held her nose when discussing it. What kind of psychologist did that make her? Not one worthy of the distinctions she somehow pulled off.
Then again, her family wasn't on the agenda. He wasn't trying to enmesh her into his, nor was he taking her home. He was keeping her safe. Keeping her alive. Right about now, that was worthy of a champagne toast and kiss on the lips. Or cheeks. Cheeks would be safer around him.
Exhaustion clouded her mind, but still, she studied him, thinking of how their chemistry sparked the harder she tried to ignore him. He concentrated on the dark highway, only the dashboard lights illuminating the chiseled hardness in his jaw. It looked more than capable of taking a punch. He was none the worse from earlier and had promised to keep her safe. The whole situation made Drake… attractive. In an evolutionary sense. Women were attracted to alpha males for biological reasons.
Besides, he wasn't her type
. Safe and stable worked just fine. Though his callous, foreboding act was intriguing. She'd give him that. Add that to his impermeable wall breaking down, well, it made her want to curl up in his arms. This is insane. But psychologically speaking, her reaction made sense.
Goodness, his bad-boy charm.
Heat crawled up her neck, and what she wouldn't do to be close to him again. She brushed her over cheek, concentrating on how her muscles tingled over his memory. The adrenaline had disappeared, but her interest in Drake remained.
Too bad he wouldn't hold her like that again. Men like him used women to expend energy. The action was gone, and his interest in her morphed into the sexual equivalent of oatmeal. Tasteless, colorless, and only appetizing if starving. With that understanding, her eyes sealed tight against the sight of him in the dim dashboard light.
CHAPTER NINE
Each s-turn on the sharp mountain road swayed Tessa into her seatbelt. Her head bumped the window, waking her. With a sleepy yawn, she rubbed her eyes and fingered her knotted hair. He'd been watching her for hours, just as long as he'd observed the passing white lines speed by in a blur.
Wasn't she something to stare at, even in the dark. She made cute noises in her sleep. Precious breaths and sleep-drenched murmurs. He'd remember those long after this op was over.
He had fidgeted with the temperature gauge, not wanting her to be too cold. He kept the radio turned down just loud enough so he could hear it and stay awake, or to distract his mind from her. Whatever. It didn't help.
"What time is it?" Her slumber-soaked question didn't sound well-rested. It was the same tired keel as before she passed out. Tessa needed real food and real sleep. She needed to get away from this road trip. His on-the-job lifestyle was pragmatic. Sleep when necessary, and down gas station purchased protein bars and Twizzlers. The Twizzlers alone could suffice him, and sleep was overrated. But Tessa needed more. She deserved better.
The SEAL's Promise Page 6
