Sarah covered her head while Gavin floored it, flying past the other car still trying to get back on the road.
He spared a quick glance at her while the needle climbed to eighty, then eighty-five. Sarah sat up. “You okay?” he asked.
She held her side with one hand, lips clamped, face pinched. Her right hand gripped her seat belt. “Yes.”
“You sure?”
She grimaced. “As well as I can be after being shot at and almost run off the road.” Her irritation eased. “That was some really good maneuvering back there, Black.”
“Just a little defensive driving. Fortunately, it was clear enough to do that, otherwise . . .”
“Yeah.” She grabbed her phone. “I’m calling 911.”
“Good, give them the description while I figure out where to go from here.” Gavin glanced in the rearview mirror while his heart pumped. His brain was already in combat mode, that zone where everything he did was geared for survival—and in protection of the woman sitting beside him.
“They’re coming back,” she said, breathless, her gaze on the mirror, phone in her right hand.
“I see them.”
“Give me a weapon. I know you have a gun in here somewhere.”
“Glove box, but it’s a peashooter compared to what these guys are using. Leave it and just stay down.”
An eighteen-wheeler barreled toward them in the other lane. Gavin passed an exit and a car pulled onto the road behind him, causing the sedan to fall back. “This could work out nicely,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just thinking.” And praying. He heard her talking to the dispatcher.
“The tunnels are just ahead,” she said, breaking off her conversation midsentence. “If they catch up and decide to start shooting in there, it won’t be pretty.”
“Yeah. And now I’ve got to worry about the person behind me.”
Gavin sped closer to the mouth of the tunnel while the sedan fell behind, trapped by the slower-moving Honda between them and the eighteen-wheeler at his side. Gavin pressed the gas pedal harder.
Sarah glanced at him. “She said they’re on the way, but three minutes out.”
“Yeah, we don’t have that long.”
He knew this highway like the back of his hand. If he could get through the tunnel, he could disappear. Maybe. A quick glance behind him showed no sign of the sedan that was still blocked by the truck and the other vehicle. “Keep watching for them,” Gavin said. “Let me know as soon as you see them behind us.”
He pressed the gas a fraction harder and within seconds was finally in the tunnel. The fluorescent lights zipped by over his head.
“I don’t see them,” she said. She spoke the words into the phone as well.
“Good, just need a couple more seconds.” He continued around the curve, slowing. “Be ready, I’m going to slam on the brakes.”
“Okay.”
“No one’s behind me, right?”
“Right—at least not close—and no sign of the shooter.”
He shot out of the tunnel and hit the brakes while directing his truck onto the shoulder.
Before he came to a full stop, he threw the transmission into reverse. The tires spun as Gavin backed through the gap in the dismantled guardrail, guiding the bed of the truck onto the dirt road that led down the side of the mountain. To anyone exiting the tunnel, she and Gavin would be invisible. Hopefully. As long as those behind them weren’t looking in their rearview or side mirrors.
Gavin could only pray whoever was in the vehicle would be focused on the lane ahead, thinking he and Sarah had disappeared around the curve.
Sarah pressed a hand against her side, lips pinched, but her attention was on the road. “There,” she said. “They just came out. He’s flying, but I got a partial plate. It had an H and a 1.” She spoke into the phone for the dispatcher.
“And the sedan is a Buick Regal,” Gavin said. “Sportback, I think.”
“Good eye.” She passed on the information and nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”
The Buick was soon out of sight and Gavin waited a good minute before he pressed the gas and roared up the dirt road, maneuvering through the deconstructed guardrail once more and back onto the highway.
“How did you know that was there?” she asked.
“I come this way a lot. One of my unit buddies and his family live in Asheville. Workers have been in this area for months.”
“That’s fortunate.” She rubbed her nose and shook her head. “I can’t believe this.”
He shot her a tight smile. “Keep your eyes open and let me know if you see that sedan ahead of us. I sure don’t want to catch up to it.”
“Right.”
Gavin drove slowly, hoping the driver was speeding, thinking he was going to catch up with them. Sirens sounded behind them. Sarah gave the dispatcher their information and a cruiser pulled up beside them. “They want us to get off at the next exit,” she said.
“Will do.”
Sarah hung up and Gavin took the off-ramp. He followed one of the small-town back roads to an out-of-the-way service station. Two local police deputies pulled in behind him. He kept his hands on the wheel and noted Sarah made sure hers were on the dash.
When the officer motioned for him to roll the window down, Gavin did so.
“Anybody hurt?”
“No, bullets got the truck, not us. Did dispatch fill you in?”
“She did. Two highway patrolmen are in pursuit of the sedan. We’re here to take care of you. Why don’t you and the lady step out here and give us a statement?”
For the next thirty minutes, Gavin and Sarah told their story separately and out of earshot of one another until the officers were satisfied. Finally, the officer who’d approached first closed his little black book. “All right, we know where to reach you should we need you. Have a safe trip back home.”
Gavin noted Sarah’s drooping shoulders and helped her into the passenger seat, then turned back to the officer. “Any word on the sedan?”
“Unfortunately, no one’s spotted it. We’ve got a BOLO out on it, so hopefully we’ll hear something soon.”
Gavin didn’t plan to hold his breath. They’d probably ditch the Buick soon if they hadn’t already. “Thanks.” He climbed in the driver’s seat and shut the door. Sarah let out a long sigh. “You okay?” he asked her.
“I will be. Think I might have bitten off more than I can chew.”
“Yeah. Let’s get you home.”
Home.
Somehow Caden’s home had become hers in the short time she’d been there. Sarah lay on Caden’s couch with the remote in her right hand and a bottle of water in her left. She was sick of resting. She hadn’t been able to face getting back in the bed. And yet, her body demanded it. The couch was a good compromise.
Caden had been all over working to find out who the shooters were, but even Annie—one of the bureau’s best technical analysts—with her incredible resources hadn’t been able to discover who the sedan belonged to, although she’d concluded that the plates had been stolen from a car similar to the one they’d used.
Great.
Sarah set her water bottle on the coffee table and aimed the remote at the television.
“Hungry?” Gavin asked, stepping into the room, hands behind his back.
“Not really.”
“Not even for ice cream?”
Her taste buds perked up. “What kind?”
“Mint chocolate chip or strawberry.”
“Both.”
He smiled and pulled his hand from behind his back. “I thought that might be your answer.” He handed her the bowl that held four scoops of ice cream. Two of each flavor.
Her jaw dropped. “How did you know?”
“A good guess.”
“Or Caden?”
“Nope, he’s not here. The credit is all mine.”
“That’s a lot of ice cream.”
“You can eat it. The calcium is good
for you.”
“Yeah, but what about the sugar?” She took a bite of the creamy sweetness and closed her eyes to savor it. When she opened them, Gavin had taken a seat in the recliner. He eyed her with amusement. “What?” she asked.
“You really like ice cream, don’t you?”
Heat crept into her cheeks. She loved ice cream. “Shut up.” She said the words without rancor and earned herself a grin.
Which faded all too soon. “Someone tried to kill you today,” he said. “Or at least do some permanent damage.”
She raised a brow. “Me? Why couldn’t it be you?”
Gavin hesitated, seemed to think about something, then leaned forward. “Okay, I’m going to tell you something because I think you need to know it.”
She stilled. “What?”
“Your father’s been receiving threats.”
“What kind of threats?”
“He’s made some enemies in the Middle East. Most specifically in the Helmand and Kandahar provinces.”
“That doesn’t really surprise me. He has to make decisions that don’t always resonate well with others—especially terrorists.”
Gavin rubbed his hands together, causing the tattoos on his arms to ripple. “I talked to your dad quite a bit while you were recovering.”
“He’s not a dad. He’s a general.” A pause. “And I didn’t realize you two were on such friendly terms.” She’d admit to being curious—and wary.
“We weren’t. I knew who he was, of course, but hadn’t met him until he contacted me to lead your rescue. I also didn’t realize he was your father until I helped Asher keep Brooke safe last year when they were caught up in that organ trafficking ring.”
She shuddered. “That was truly awful. All that aside, what are you trying to say?”
“He’s not sure your kidnapping and subsequent transport to Omar’s compound was simply a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Sarah closed her eyes, not wanting to relive the nightmare, but unable to stop the flashes. Rough hands, terror, gunshots. Her guard’s face exploding milliseconds after she pulled the trigger. She sucked in a deep breath and opened her eyes. “I still think about the man I thought I killed. I could have sworn that was my bullet that . . .”
“It wasn’t. Ballistics proved it. One of mine hit him and so did the soldier’s behind you.”
“I’m glad I wasn’t responsible, even though he was so . . . evil.” A shudder rippled up her spine. “I saw his eyes just before I pulled the trigger and there wasn’t anything there. Just black pits of darkness.”
“And he’ll never hurt anyone again.”
She shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go off on all of that. What were you saying about the kidnapping? It was something more than a random thing?” She was quite proud of her outward composure.
“He said he was worried your kidnapping had something to do with the threats against him. It was one of the reasons he did what he did with getting you discharged.” He held up a hand when she started to protest. “I’m not saying what he did was right, I’m just telling you the reasoning behind it.”
Sarah snapped her lips shut, keeping a tight rein on the bubbling rage. “You’re defending him.”
“No. But maybe trying to understand and . . . explain him?”
“You’re trying to explain him?” Of all the nerve. “That’s almost worse. You don’t know him well enough to be able to do that.” She paused. “And if you do, then it’s time for you to leave.”
The words were cold, frigid even. Not caring one bit, she held his gaze when she said them, feeling betrayed, but mostly angry that he would side with her father.
“Of course,” he finally said, “you’re absolutely right. I don’t know him like you do. All I have are impressions from our conversations.”
“Exactly.” She paused. “So, what else aren’t you telling me?”
It was obvious there was no way he could say anything more about the situation without her kicking him out. And if the bullet holes in his truck were any indication, that could result in some very bad things happening to her.
Like death. He couldn’t be responsible for that.
Her eyes never wavered as she waited for his answer. He’d never met anyone who could hold his gaze for very long before looking away. Sarah didn’t seem to have that problem. He cleared his throat. “I’m just trying to figure some things out. Like who was gunning for us out on the highway.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“What else aren’t you telling me?”
He fell silent, unwilling to tell her about his agreement with her father, yet even more unwilling to outright lie to her. “What do you think I’m not telling you?”
“Like why you’re sticking around?”
He blinked. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because the more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense.” Another pause. “Did Caden ask you to watch out for me?”
“No. Caden didn’t say a word.” At least that was one hundred percent true. Before she could ask another question he didn’t want to answer, he leaned forward. “Look, Sarah, I was just minding my own business working a contract job in Kabul with a well-trained team when the general contacted me about your kidnapping. I passed the job off as quickly as I could, and the team and I headed to the compound.” Also true. “We got you out of there and back to the States so you could heal. And then Caden asked me to stay for the funeral. You seemed to want me around, and Caden wanted whatever you wanted. After the funeral, you were still really sick and”—he shrugged—“I wanted to know you were going to be okay.”
She studied him as though trying to decide. “Don’t you have a job?”
“I’m friends with the boss. I can help delegate. Besides, Travis and Asher are sending me regular updates and reassuring me that I’m where I’m supposed to be, so it’s all good.”
She continued to study him, weighing his words. Finally, a sigh slipped from her. “Why didn’t they kill me? Or torture me? Or whatever?”
Her out-of-the-blue change of subject made him pause. “Who?” The fact that he had to ask unnerved him.
“The terrorists. If they knew I was the general’s daughter when they took me—and that’s the impression you’ve just given me—why bother to actually take me? Why not just shoot me in the school where I was teaching and be done with it? Why keep me alive?”
All very good questions. “I’m not exactly sure.” But he had a few ideas.
“Because if, as you say, they were trying to kill me when they cut loose with that hail of bullets on the highway, that means they followed me back here—or hired someone. Again, why? Assuming it’s the people who’ve been threatening the general, why not when they had me in their custody for hours on end?”
Because they wanted to torture her for information they thought her father might have revealed to her—or information they thought the man would be willing to trade in exchange for her life? He bit his tongue on the words. If she hadn’t come to that conclusion, he wouldn’t put it in her head. “Maybe they were supposed to and decided they’d rather make more money by trafficking you?”
She frowned and gave a slow nod. “Okay, that makes sense.”
But he could tell she wasn’t completely sold on the idea.
Bad pun not intended.
“It makes sense,” she said again, “but it doesn’t.”
“Why don’t you sleep on it?”
“And this whole thing with Brianne doesn’t make any sense either,” she said as though he hadn’t spoken. “Brianne Davis.”
“Caden’s friend at the FBI, Annie, is looking into her as well, isn’t she?”
“Supposed to be. I haven’t heard anything.” She flicked a glance into the kitchen. “Speaking of Caden, where is he?”
“Working, I would think.” He paused. “What was it like growing up with the general?”
She turned the television off an
d set the remote on the back of the sofa. “Painful.”
The soft word barely reached his ears. When he processed what she said, he winced. “How so?”
She shrugged. “It just seems every time I turned around, he was leaving again. Mom never seemed to mind. Or if she did, she simply accepted it.”
“She knew what the life was like when she married him, didn’t she?”
“Of course, but in my opinion, they shouldn’t have brought kids into it.”
“That’s pretty harsh, don’t you think?”
She locked her gaze on his. “After one particularly nasty confrontation with the general, I asked him why they had us. You know what his answer was?”
“No.”
“‘I agreed to shut your mom up. Kids were her idea. I just went along with it because I was tired of hearing her whine about it.’”
“Okay, that was harsh.” He paused. “He really said that?”
“A direct quote.” She set the half-eaten bowl of ice cream on the coffee table. “Just for the record, my mother never whined about anything—not even when she was dying from stomach cancer.”
He stilled. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“I am too.”
“She was strong.”
“So very strong.”
“You’re like her.”
She started, then smiled. “I’d love to think so.”
“Regardless of what he said or whether you believe it or not, your father loves you.”
Sarah gave a light snort. “No, he doesn’t. He’s learned he needs to put on the appearance of loving us—such as flying to Afghanistan when he thought I was going to die—but he doesn’t.”
Gavin thought he was beyond feeling shocked these days, but found himself stunned that she truly believed what she was saying. “He wouldn’t do the things he does if love wasn’t behind it.” Would he? He flashed to the man’s devastation when he’d walked into her hospital room to tell her Dustin was dead. That kind of agony couldn’t be faked. And the worry on his face when he practically ordered Gavin to be her personal bodyguard? Was that fake? If he didn’t care, why bother?
She shot him a look that could only be described as pity. “Are you really that naive?”
Acceptable Risk Page 10
