He stared at her, studying her. “Why?” His roughly barked question hung in the air.
“I decided other things were more important,” she settled for saying.
“What things?” he snapped.
Confused at his intense emotion over what was a personal matter to her, Lynette shook her head. She had no intentions of telling him. “Things that have nothing to do with my father or with you.”
“Tell me why you stopped.” He paused between each word and spoke with clenched teeth.
Okay. That helped cut through the fear and the pain. A year ago she probably would have nicely tried to talk her way out of this, but there was a proverbial line drawn in the sand, and this cowboy had just crossed it.
Lynette got to her feet. “Enough is enough. So what if Gage asked you to keep an eye on me? Well, I don’t want your eye or anything else on me. Get out now!”
She pointed the gun right at his chest.
He huffed and propped his hands on his hips. “What if I’m wearing a Kevlar vest, huh?”
Lynette blinked. “What?” And she wanted to ask if he’d missed a dose of meds or something. Because he was either ice-cold under pressure or he was crazy.
Another huff, and he grabbed the barrel of her gun and aimed it higher. “If I’m wearing Kevlar, then a chest shot will just temporarily knock the breath out of me, crack a rib or two and then piss me off. If I’m the big bad threat that you think I am, then go for a head shot. No Kevlar there.”
Lynette just stared at him. “Who the heck are you?”
He leaned in so close that she caught the scent of the rain on his clothes.
And maybe something else...
“I’m the man who’s going to save your life, darlin’,” he growled. “And you’ll let me do it because of that promise I made to Gage. You’re going to take a suitcase from your closet, pack a change of clothes, and you’ll leave with me now. We’re moving fast, light and without any more arguments or questions from you.”
He started to step back. Back into the shadows, but Lynette caught on to his arm and yanked him closer. Well, she tried anyway. He looked lanky, but the muscles in his arm were rock-hard and, despite the rough pull she’d given him, he didn’t budge even a little.
Lynette reached to turn on the lamp again. She wanted a better look at his eyes to see if she could recognize something. Anything. But he ripped the lamp’s electrical plug from the wall socket.
“I thought I made it clear—no light,” he insisted. He pointed to the rain-streaked windows. “Because there could be someone bad out there. If he’s not already here, he will be soon. And trust me, Gage didn’t send this guy to keep an eye on you.”
Lynette’s gaze darted to the window, and she would have moved closer if the man hadn’t latched on to her shoulder and anchored her in place.
“Who is this someone out there?” she demanded.
He cursed, and his grip melted off her. “A hired gun. And he has orders to kill you.”
Chapter Two
Well, so far this plan just plain sucked.
Despite the near darkness, Gage Ryland could see the color drain from Lynette’s face, and with her chest pumping for air, she sank back on the edge of the bed. Even with the bad blood and old baggage between them, he hated to see her like this. Frightened.
And in the worst kind of danger.
Maybe she would be frightened enough to cooperate, because Gage really had to get her out of there fast.
“You’re lying,” she said.
Denial. That was a predictable reaction. Too bad he didn’t have time for it. “I wish,” he mumbled.
While he was wishing, Gage wished he had a better plan, because this one sucked. It was taking too long, and there was way too much touching and close contact going on.
Too much emotion.
And Lynette wasn’t the only one of them responsible for that. He hadn’t expected this to feel like a bandage being ripped from a raw, unstitched wound. But that’s exactly how it felt. This trip down memory lane wasn’t doing his heart or his gut any good.
He should have just waited outside her house in the storm and killed the would-be killer, quietly disposed of the body and then kept watch for the next assassin that would come her way.
And there would be others.
He was sure of that.
It was the there would be others logic that Gage had used to justify putting on this middle-age disguise and risking everything to warn Lynette of the danger. Not just of this danger but of those assassins that would come even after he managed to neutralize this one.
Well, he’d warned her all right, along with feeding her a boatload of lies about a promise he’d made to a dead man.
No promise.
And the dead man was standing smack-dab in front of her.
Of course, Lynette couldn’t learn either of those things tonight. Or ever. In the only way that mattered, Gage was dead to her, and it had to stay that way even if a little part of him wanted to confront her about the way she’d sliced and diced his heart all those years ago. But while a confrontation might make him feel marginally better, it wouldn’t do much to help the situation.
Her closet door behind him was already open. Gage knew that because he’d opened it not long after he’d broken into her house, and he pulled out her overnight bag that he’d located on the shelf. But Lynette only pushed it away when he tried to hand it to her.
“Who’s the hired gun and who sent him?” she demanded.
All right. The denial was already over. Well, maybe. At least she was asking questions again, and the sooner Gage furnished her with answers, the sooner he could convince her to leave this place and go into hiding. Best not to spend much time in this room with her.
Especially with her wearing a paper-thin white gown that hugged her body. A body he remembered a little too well.
Yeah.
He had to hightail it out of there ASAP.
“The hit man’s name is Freddie Denton,” Gage explained.
Thanks to a throat spray that the CIA used to help with disguises and covers, his voice was like a Texas gravel road. He didn’t sound anything like himself.
He hoped.
Gage also hoped he could finish this rescue plan before the effects of the spray wore off. He figured he only had about an hour, tops, and the minutes of that hour were ticking away fast. Not good, since she was staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. She sure wasn’t moving or doing what he’d told her to do.
He huffed and doled out some more details. “An informant called to let me know that Denton was on the move and making arrangements to pay you a visit.”
“A visit?” she questioned.
Gage gave her a flat look that probably didn’t translate well beneath the layers of prosthetic makeup and dark brown contacts. “Denton doesn’t make social calls. He kills people for a living, and he’s very good at what he does.”
She kept her chin high, but her breathing was still way too fast. “Then if he’s a known killer, why haven’t you arrested him? Especially since you’re a CIA agent, like Gage was.”
Oh, man.
Yeah, it’d been years since he’d seen Lynette, but he didn’t remember her being this, well, courageous or mouthy. He’d counted on her screaming—which she’d done—and then begging him to get her out of there. She hadn’t exactly begged for the latter, but Gage would still do it.
However, these questions were eating into their escape time.
“No one has arrested Denton because he doesn’t leave evidence behind, that’s why,” Gage settled for saying. “He kills witnesses and anyone else who gets in his way.”
But Lynette only shook her head and kept staring at him.
Gage didn’t bother with another huff. It was making his throat sore so he got started on something he’d wanted her to do. He put her overnight bag on the bed next to her.
“Pack,” he insisted.
She didn’t stop staring. “Convince m
e why I should.”
This stubborn streak was getting old fast.
He got right in her face and slowed his words so that she would grasp each life-threatening one. “About two and a half hours ago Denton left his house in Houston, and he was armed with an assault rifle, night-vision goggles and a map to your house. It’s my guess that with the rain-slick roads, he’ll be here in five minutes.”
Actually, it would probably be about fifteen, but Gage wanted to up the urgency here.
Her breath rattled in her throat. Because of the darkness, he couldn’t clearly see her eyes, but Gage knew they were a deep ocean blue. And right about now, she would no doubt be fighting back tears and the terror. Lynette wasn’t accustomed to hit men and danger. Prior to this, her father had kept her just out of reach of that.
Gage had tried to do the same.
But he’d failed.
This would be brutal, but she needed to hear it. “I figure Denton will do one of two things. He’ll try to gun you down through that bedroom window the moment he arrives, or he’ll just wait until morning when you walk out your front door to go to your car. Either way, you’ll be dead...unless you leave with me right now.”
Her forehead bunched up. “And who hired Denton?”
“I’m not sure—yet.” Gage checked his watch. The minutes were ticking off fast. If he didn’t convince her soon, he’d have to use the tranquilizer packet he had in his coat pocket. “I suspect it was your father or one of his slimeball business associates you were investigating.”
Gage knew their names: Nicole Manning and Patrick Harkin. Names that Lynette already knew, as well, because (a) she’d known the pair most of her life, and (b) she’d been conducting a pseudo-investigation into some of their business deals that dated back as far as two decades.
Good intentions.
Bad idea.
Real bad.
“When you started playing Nancy Drew and digging into your father’s records, I think it made Patrick and Nicole very nervous,” Gage clarified. Since she wasn’t packing yet, he did it for her. He grabbed the first outfit he could reach in her closet, jeans and a top, and stuffed them into the overnight bag. “One of them could have hired Denton. Or maybe your father decided to cut his losses and put a permanent end to your snooping.”
“Not my father,” she whispered. Lynette pulled in a long breath and repeated the denial. “He wouldn’t send someone to kill me.”
Gage could have argued that, but he’d learned the hard way he would just be wasting his breath. Lynette was never going to believe her father was the bottom-feeding monster that he truly was.
“Besides,” she added. “I’ve already stopped looking into their records.”
He studied her face to see if that was a lie. It wasn’t. “When did you stop?”
She hesitated. “Nearly a month ago.”
Gage didn’t miss that little hesitation, but he let it pass for now. “Well, I don’t think your daddy got the memo about that.” He didn’t bother to tone down the sarcasm. “And even if he did, he might have thought you were still too much of a liability.”
He went to her dresser drawer, grabbed a handful of underwear. Yep, a lacy bra and panties similar to the ones that’d been tossed onto the chair in the corner, and he crammed the items into the bag.
“What exactly were you looking for in those records?” Gage asked her.
Her gaze snapped to him again, and she scowled. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m no threat to my father or to Patrick or Nicole. I can call them and let them all know that.”
Gage had to risk touching her again when Lynette reached for the phone. “And what will you say to them?” He got his hand off her as quickly as he could. “Daddy, I know you hired a hit man to kill me, but I promise I’ll be a good girl. Again,” he added in a mumble.
Hell.
That was a fit-of-temper kind of response, and Lynette obviously latched right onto it. She stood, slowly, and stared at him. She also aimed her gun.
At his head.
She was a fast learner.
“I’m doing something I should have done the moment I found you in my bedroom,” Lynette warned him. “I’m calling the sheriff.”
Great. Just what he didn’t need. His big brother Grayson in on this stupid-butted plan. That couldn’t happen for a lot of reasons, so Gage grabbed her hand again when Lynette reached for the phone on the nightstand.
“You can’t,” he let her know.
“I can,” she let him know right back. “If there’s really a hit man on his way here, then the sheriff can stop him.”
“Yeah. Or the sheriff can get killed by a pro who knows how to do just that.” Grayson and he had never seen eye to eye, but Gage wasn’t going to let Denton gun down his brother. Or for that matter gun down Lynette, despite this sudden stubborn streak.
Lynette tried to throw off his grip, and Gage had no choice but to grab on to her and put her against the wall.
The clicking sound surprised him.
It surprised the heck out of her, too.
Lynette’s eyes widened, and she looked down at the trigger she’d just pulled. The gun was no longer aimed at his head. But rather the ceiling.
“Your bullets are in my pocket,” he explained once he got his mouth working again. Sheesh. His heart was beating a mile a minute, and that didn’t happen very often.
She made a sound of outrage and kept struggling to get away from him. “You unloaded my gun?”
“Yeah, before you woke up. And in hindsight, it was a smart move, don’t you think?” Gage grabbed both her wrists in his left hand and shook the .38 loose in case she tried to bash him in the head with it.
“Hell,” he grumbled. “I didn’t think you’d actually pull the trigger.”
And for some stupid reason, that nearly made him smile even though the aim at the ceiling meant she was just trying to fire a warning shot. Still, she’d fired. His ex had grown a spine. Finally. Under different circumstances and if her delays weren’t a threat to their lives, he might have approved.
Gage’s near smile went south though when she tried to knee him in the groin. She got darn close, too. Her kneecap rammed into his thigh and had him seeing stars.
“Time for the tranquilizer,” he grumbled. He took out the plastic packet from his pocket.
“No!” Just like that, Lynette stopped struggling. “Please. No drugs. I’ll do whatever you say.”
Gage stopped, too, and he stared at her, trying to figure out what this was all about. “It’s just a mild sedative. It won’t hurt you. You’d be out ten minutes, tops.”
“I don’t want to be unconscious. It’s a phobia I have.” Lynette held his stare and put some steel in her voice. “Now, let go of me so we can leave. Denton will be here soon.”
Yeah. And Gage was more than a little suspicious that Lynette had suddenly realized the need for them to get the heck out of there—especially since he hadn’t made much headway with her until now with the tranquilizer threat.
Gage let go of her, stepped back, and with some major suspicion, he watched her grab the bra and panties from the chair and then go to the closet. He didn’t think she had another gun in there, but she might try to use something to club him. Gage didn’t believe for one minute that he’d actually convinced her that leaving was the only way for her to stay alive.
So, what was she up to?
Had she managed to find a weapon in that closet?
“Don’t look,” she insisted. “I want to put on some clothes.”
Gage didn’t look. Not exactly. But he didn’t trust her enough to give her complete privacy.
Lynette somehow managed to get on the underwear while her gown was still draped over her body. The gown finally hit the floor, and she immediately slipped into a loose blue dress. If there’d been time, he would have suggested jeans or something that covered more of her. But that would have required him seeing her half-naked again.
He was pretty sure that wasn’t a good
idea.
“I left my raincoat at my office, but I can use this,” she explained, pulling a cherry-red trenchcoat from a hanger. She put it on over the dress and slipped on a pair of shoes.
Gage checked both, including the coat pockets. Too bad that required more touching. Those pockets were deep, and the search for a possible weapon sent his hand skimming against her thigh.
Oh, yeah. This plan sucked.
She huffed, maybe at the hand-to-thigh contact and mumbled something about him being a pervert. Lynette grabbed the overnight bag from the bed.
And Gage’s wedding ring from the nightstand.
Something he’d been about to take for himself.
“If Denton comes in the house looking for me,” Lynette mumbled, slipping the ring onto her index finger, “I don’t want him to find it.”
Neither did Gage, but he had to wonder why that was so important to Lynette. It couldn’t be because she still had feelings for him.
No.
Couldn’t be that.
She’d had their marriage annulled ten years ago, and the few times he’d seen her since, Lynette hadn’t been just distant, she’d been downright ice-cold. Not just to him but to his family, as well. So, what was with her grabbing that ring?
Too bad Gage didn’t have time to find out.
“What?” she asked, probably because he was staring holes in her. She moved closer.
Her gaze connected with his.
That kind of deep eye contact was something else that shouldn’t happen. The windows of the soul theory might be all bunk, but he didn’t want to risk Lynette seeing the real person behind those colored contacts and disguise.
“Let’s go,” Gage ordered. He picked up her gun and his penlight, stuffed them into his jacket pocket and led her out of the room and into the hall.
In his research he’d learned that Lynette had only owned the place two years, so this was Gage’s first trip here. That’s why he’d taken a couple of minutes to familiarize himself with the layout.
And even a few seconds to watch her sleep.
He wasn’t proud of that. It had seemed more like a violation of her privacy than breaking in. After all, the breaking in had been necessary, but there was no logical explanation for why he’d nearly lost his breath when he’d seen her lying there in bed.
Gage Page 2
