“What if the troopers see you?”
“They won’t see me unless I want them to.”
Was it arrogance that spurred his boast? Or hard-won abilities that gave him confidence in himself? Mac had a feeling Brady was capable of whatever he claimed and that he possessed sufficient-enough skills that he didn’t have to invent ones that didn’t exist. The man had already proved he could move from point A to point B without making a sound.
Still, worry cascaded over her. “What if you don’t come back?”
Brady laid his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently. “Breathe. Again. That’s better.” He smiled as he skimmed his hands down to the tips of her elbows and back up again.
The warmth of his touch sent a tingle shooting through her arms. “I’m not usually such a mess. I’ve just never had anyone trying to kill me before.” Her laughter, bordering on hysterical, abruptly died, and she frowned. “Obviously, I don’t know what I’m doing, and it scares the hell out of me.” A shudder vibrated through her body.
Brady tilted her chin so she met his gaze. “No one knows what to do in this situation, Mac—especially not me. I just make it up as I go. Actually, I’m kind of glad to know this isn’t a normal Friday night for you. My mama warned me about wild girls like that.” A twinkle appeared, making his eyes come alive. “I’m going to get the car and come back for you. Then we’ll figure out what our next move is. Can you handle it here alone for a few minutes?”
Mac answered his smile with one of her own in spite of the fact her insides still ached. “I think I’ll be okay.” Just his proximity inspired confidence and made her less afraid. Strange, considering he’d taken her gun away and sat on her less than an hour ago.
He stepped away from her. “Don’t forget what I told you about the gun.” He turned to walk away. “And Mac? Try not to shoot yourself.”
His parting advice made her smile, but her good humor didn’t last. As soon as he disappeared, the darkness closed in. She had only just met Brady, and not under the best of circumstances, but his calm demeanor and obvious strength had given her a small amount of courage when she’d had none of her own. It seemed to leave with him, though, and she clutched the weapon tighter as she broke out in a cold sweat.
To her right, the recessed back door to one of the businesses offered some cover, and she glanced up and down the alley before backing into the farthest corner. She slid down against the wall and strained to hear any sounds.
She could see a narrow strip of alleyway. The street wasn’t visible from where she hid, so after a few minutes, she crept out of the entryway and along the wall to the edge of the street, then peered around the corner. There was no activity. Mac leaned her head back against the wall, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply.
Was that a car? Her eyes popped open, and she leaned sideways far enough to see down the street to where the noise originated. Relief surged through her when she saw the car coming, still a block and a half away. Its lights flicked off and on twice. Holding the gun tucked close to her leg so it wouldn’t be easily noticed if anyone was on the street, she stepped out of the alley onto the sidewalk.
“Hold it right there, Mac.”
Gallagher’s voice came from the shadows to her left, and she faltered, her gaze darting toward Brady’s car.
“I figured you had to come out of this alley sooner or later. I’m sorry you got involved in this, but you can see our problem, right? Can’t have any witnesses. The man in charge wouldn’t be happy. So we’re going to get in that car across the street and find a quiet spot. You’re lucky I found you instead of Simpson. I’ll make it quick.”
She was only listening to half of what he said as she watched Brady’s car make a left turn and disappear. Where was he going? Was he leaving her after all?
As though he’d been waiting for the street to empty, Gallagher moved toward her. Mac’s grip tightened around the weapon in her hand, her thumb pushing against the safety until she heard a soft click. Paddy’s gun and a couple of hurried instructions from Brady were all she had between her and certain death. Brady had apparently deserted her, and she might be wasting her time, but she wasn’t going down without a fight.
Turning partway, she kept the handgun pressed against her leg. The trooper was ten feet away, his gun trained on her. “What’s this about, Gallagher?”
“It’s business. You wouldn’t understand.” He held up a set of handcuffs and started to walk toward her. “Turn around, Mac.”
No way was that going to happen. Mac raised her weapon with both hands.
Instantly, Gallagher stopped, his smirk fading to dead seriousness. An eerie calm came over Mac, and time slowed. She didn’t want to take a life, but she would if he forced her hand. He hadn’t been the one who shot Paddy, but Gallagher hadn’t tried to stop Simpson either. That made him equally as guilty in her mind. Paddy must have known she would need his weapon, and he would expect her to defend herself. That’s exactly what she was going to do.
The second Gallagher’s finger curled around the trigger, she fired. Brady’s words echoed around her as clearly as though he stood there with her—keep pulling the trigger until there’s no one left standing.
At least one of the bullets she fired found its mark, and Gallagher jerked backward a step. He dropped to his knees, his weapon thudded to the sidewalk, and he collapsed like a spineless doll.
Mac lowered her weapon and stared. As blood pooled near his head, horror slammed into her. Throwing up seemed inevitable. She backed away slowly, struggling to push air into her lungs, and shook her head to rid herself of the ringing in her ears. Unable to gaze at the trooper’s still form another minute, she whirled and ran aimlessly.
From the shadow of a parked car, someone lunged toward her and grabbed her hair, nearly jerking her off her feet. She dropped the gun, and it clattered to the sidewalk. A hand covered her mouth and an arm wound around her waist, pulling her roughly against a solid body.
“Gallagher always was an idiot. Too soft. Made him careless. You’ll find I won’t be so easily disposed of.”
Simpson! Mac should have known that snake would be here somewhere. She struggled against him, fighting for her life, but he seemed to hold her effortlessly.
He swung her around and slammed her against the brick building, his hand still covering her mouth. “You’ve made enough noise for one night. Let’s finish this quietly.” He brandished a wicked-looking knife in front of her face.
Terror drained her remaining strength, and Mac sagged against the building. Her legs might have collapsed if he hadn’t been pressing her into the wall. It was her worst nightmare coming true, but she refused to give up without a fight.
From deep down inside, her instinct for self-preservation awakened new resolve. She put every ounce of it into a right cross that probably hurt her more than it did him. The moment’s surprise it afforded her, however, loosened his grip long enough for her to slip out of his grasp.
She made it two steps before he was on her again. He apparently wasn’t going to give her another chance to escape and arced the knife toward her chest as he slammed her backward into the wall. This was it. She’d failed Paddy.
Mac squeezed her eyes closed, held her breath, and braced for the blow that would send pain and death ripping through her flesh.
It didn’t come.
A strange rattle raised goose bumps on her arms, and she peeked through lowered lashes. Simpson was directly in front of her, a soundless scream twisting his mouth. She choked on a sudden influx of air, her eyes flew open the rest of the way, and she met Brady’s angry glare from where he stood beside the trooper. He had gripped Simpson’s knife hand with one of his, keeping the death blow from falling. His other hand grasped the hilt of what must’ve been his own blade, which he’d buried in Simpson’s ribs.
Mac’s world tilted and shimmered. She was floating. Brady was saying something, but his voice was warped and distorted. Her feet wouldn’t move. Was she dreaming? Was she de
ad? Soundlessly, she thanked Brady for somehow making it painless. Strong arms caught her and wrapped her in warmth as darkness closed in around her.
Chapter Four
MAC’S EYES ROLLED back in her head, and Brady reached for her, catching her as she slid down the wall. He did a quick check for wounds and was relieved that the bastard at his feet hadn’t touched her with the knife. The fury that had roared through his veins when he’d found that worthless son of a bitch holding a blade two inches from Mac’s heart was worse than any PTSD episode he’d ever suffered.
Brady had barely gotten there in time to save her after seeing the initial attack go down. Betting they were too smart to kill her on a public street might have been an overestimation of their intelligence. Parking his car so they wouldn’t see him coming, he’d raced the rest of the way on foot. He didn’t want to think about the rampage he might have embarked on if he’d been too late.
Something about this girl awakened responses in him that had lain dormant for a long time by his own choosing. She was gorgeous with long, wavy, dark hair accentuating high cheekbones, wide, full lips, and light-colored eyes that seemed to draw him. But that wasn’t what hooked him. Somehow she’d tripped his protective switch early in their association, and in spite of the fact that he’d known her for less than an hour, he couldn’t walk away. She shouldn’t have any effect on him at all, and why she did wasn’t a topic he wanted to tackle at the moment.
It stunk that he hadn’t arrived before she’d been forced to pull that trigger. His first kill as a Navy SEAL still haunted him at times. How bad would it be for Mac if the man she’d shot was dead?
Holding her against him with one arm, he jerked his Navy combat knife from the slain officer, wiping the blood from the six-inch blade onto the AST uniform that had already been sullied by the trooper’s actions, then inserted it into the sheath at his waist. If he’d had any doubts about Mac’s claim that the troopers intended her harm, they’d all been put to rest. These two were as dirty as they came. How many more were involved? Could he trust the local law enforcement at all? What the hell was going on?
Brady leaned to the right, slid his arm under Mac’s knees, and swept her up, carrying her the few feet to the end of the alley before setting her gently against the wall. He peered up and down the street. It was still quiet and deserted, so he quickly pulled the other officer into the alley, being careful not to leave boot prints in the blood. This one wasn’t dead, and judging by the wound where a bullet grazed his temple, he’d be fine aside from one hell of a headache. For a few seconds, he debated finishing what Mac had started. He’d probably regret not taking care of business, but he couldn’t help thinking it would be easier for Mac if he could tell her the man she’d shot was alive and well. If Brady had the good fortune to come face-to-face with this guy again someday, there’d be no more second chances.
He wasn’t looking forward to the phone call to Joe telling him he’d killed an Alaska State Trooper. Sometimes he wondered why Joe kept him around, but Brady was very grateful that he did. Joe’s compound was the only home he had now. Anyway, Joe would know who to call to launch an investigation into what was happening here, not to mention report the carnage in the alley before some poor innocent stumbled across the scene.
He strode back to where Mac was slumped against the wall, lifted her to her feet, and threw her over his shoulder. Halfway to the car, he got his answer about how badly pulling that trigger would affect her.
She moaned and squirmed against him. “Oh God. Let me down.”
“Keep still. It’s me . . . Brady. We’re almost to the car.”
“Put me down if you don’t want me to throw up all over you.” Her voice was little more than a groan.
Brady stopped and let her slide down the front of him. The instant she landed, she stumbled a few feet and spewed up her guts. He barely got there in time to pull her hair back and steady her with a hand on her waist. Long after her stomach was empty, dry heaves racked her. Nothing made a man feel more helpless.
When she finally straightened, tears shimmered in her eyes and wet tracks lined her face. Brady’s stomach clenched at the misery etched there as he handed her his handkerchief and then held out his arm in the only comfort he could offer.
She came into his embrace without hesitation, additional testimony to her despair and confusion. Her head rested just below his chin, and her cinnamon-vanilla aroma filled his senses.
“You did good, sugar. You did what you had to do to save your life, but don’t be too hard on yourself. He’s going to live.” He lightly brushed his lips over her forehead.
She looked up at him, a question in her eyes. Maybe she found the answer she wanted because she seemed to relax in his arms.
“We should get off the street. Are you ready?” If not for the fact they were out in the open, exposed, and in imminent danger, Brady wouldn’t be ready to let her go yet. Not by a long shot. That revelation scared the shit out of him.
She nodded. He quickly released her and stepped back, noticing the absence of her warmth immediately. He took her hand, and they walked the final block to where he’d left his car. After opening her door, she slid onto the seat, and he helped her buckle her seatbelt before he closed her in and went around to the other side.
What the hell was he thinking, holding her like that? Grudgingly, he admitted the immediate attraction that threw him off his game, but he better get over it . . . and quick. He couldn’t be attracted to this woman. There were at least a hundred reasons why that was a lousy idea. The same reasons that had kept him from choosing to return to his hometown and his family after his last tour was over. The nightmares that prowled around in his brain and came out in the open at the least opportune moments. He was dangerous and unpredictable . . . and he wouldn’t take a chance with people he cared about. So, he never let himself get too close.
Mac would be no different. Besides, he was only empathizing with her because she was in a whole lot of trouble, and that could be a cold and lonely place. They had a mission in common ahead of them—finding out if M was really Maria Alverez as he suspected. After that, he’d get Mac someplace safe, reunite her with friends and family, and she’d be fine . . . and he’d be back on track. He dropped into his seat, latched the seatbelt, and started the car.
“Where are we going?” Mac threaded her fingers together in her lap and stared at them.
“I thought we’d go to my motel room. You can get cleaned up—get some rest.” He glanced at her. “Unless you have somewhere else where you’ll be safe.”
“No . . . I mean, just my uncle’s boat. I stayed there last night, but I’d rather go with you if that’s all right.” She finally met his gaze.
The false bravado he saw in her eyes told him two things. First—the lady wasn’t used to needing anyone else to take care of her, and it was tough for her to ask. Second—she was going to be okay. She’d get through this and be stronger for it—providing he could keep her alive.
“Good.” He smiled in spite of himself. “We’ll figure out what happens next after we get a good night’s sleep.” He eased out into the street and headed for the motel.
Brady drove around the block once, then eyed the parking lot carefully before pulling in and parking close to the lobby. Except for the no vacancy sign in the front window, everything was dark.
“Stay here for a second.” He opened his door without waiting for a reply and went around back to the trunk. Inserting the key, he opened it and grabbed his rifle and the paper bag of groceries he’d placed there earlier. He closed the trunk silently and went to Mac’s door, swung it open, and offered his hand. She took it and stepped out, hesitating slightly and blanching as she stared at his rifle.
“You okay?” He searched her eyes, but the moment had passed.
“Yeah.” She smiled shakily. “You just . . . reminded me of something.”
For now, he’d have to accept that, but if he was going to help her, she’d have to come clean. He re
sted his hand on her lower back and turned her toward his room. At the door, he handed her the paper bag, told her to wait again, and entered with gun drawn. When he was satisfied that no danger lurked within, he returned to the door and beckoned her into the room.
She stood awkwardly just inside, clutching the bag. He tugged her gently toward the bed and motioned for her to sit. “The bathroom’s right there. Feel free to shower if you’d like. That always makes me feel better.” He grabbed his duffel and rummaged inside, holding up a pair of exercise shorts. “These are probably too big for you, but maybe you can tie a knot or something.” His shrug elicited a smile from her that almost stopped his heart as it sent bursts of longing straight to his groin.
Shit! She was beautiful. This was the first time he’d seen her in the light. Her brunette hair was tinged with auburn streaks. Blue-gray eyes were soft and, for the moment, unsure. Skintight jeans hugged shapely legs and well-rounded hips. Her breasts were not too big, and hell . . . just the way he liked them. He continued his slow perusal up the fine slope of her neck, across her delicate chin to her full, rounded lips—damn—most excellent lips.
“Are you through staring at me?”
Already too late to stop his burgeoning arousal, Brady wrenched his gaze from her lips and met her eyes. Eyes that now held streaks of lilac and looked like a thunderstorm was about to hit. “Sorry.” He coughed and focused again on his duffel, holding up a gray T-shirt. “Will this work to sleep in? We’ll figure something else out tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” She accepted the shirt, a self-conscious smile flitting across her features. “Do you have any shampoo?”
“In the bathroom. Oh . . . ” He dug through his bag again and found the cardboard and plastic package he’d been looking for. “I always carry a spare . . . just in case.” He held the unopened toothbrush out to her.
“Wow! I could kiss you for that, but . . . ” Pink tinged her smooth cheeks as her gaze rested on the bulge in the front of his jeans. Then she slowly raised her eyes to his.
Tempt the Night Page 4
