He opened his eyes and replaced the fuse. The SUV cornered sharply, and he flung out an arm to keep from sliding to the floor as his face mashed into supple denim. The vehicle straightened out again. He turned his nose and mouth away from Kate's leg, breathed, and reached for another fuse.
"That's the radio. The clock just went off," Kate said from above him.
"Thanks." Back in with that one. A third one out.
"That's it." Her voice was filled with relief. The SUV slowed as she adjusted her speed to navigate by moonlight alone.
Now the cruiser would really be gaining on them.
Jonas squinted at the book again, tracing a finger over the schematic and studying the accompanying list. He peered at the panel under the dash. He'd just removed the third from the bottom in the second row, and that had been—
"You can come up now, Burke," Kate snapped.
Funny how she called him Burke instead of Jonas whenever things got a little tense between them. He tipped his head back and shot her a grin.
"Actually, I can't. The headlights are on a different fuse from the taillights."
She stared straight ahead.
"And the brake lights are on another altogether."
Her lips compressed, but he was wise enough to swallow the chuckle that threatened. Antagonize her enough and she might slam on the brakes just to dump his butt on the floor, and they didn't have that kind of time to spare. He returned his attention to the manual, found the fuse he thought he needed, and yanked the real-life one from the panel. Then he pushed himself upright and glanced at the side mirror. No flashing lights for the moment, but he doubted they were far behind.
"Try the brakes," he ordered.
The vehicle lurched. Jonas saw no corresponding glow at the back of the vehicle.
"Got them," he said with satisfaction. Only the dome light remained to give them away. He switched it off and snapped his seatbelt back into place.
"Good,” said Kate. “Then hang on."
The four-by-four slewed violently to the right, fishtailed twice, then spun left and came to a shuddering halt at the rear of an unlit, deserted service station. They waited in silence, both twisted in their seats to stare through the back window down the highway. The flashing lights came into view around the corner on the county road they'd left, then disappeared on the other side of the abandoned service station. Jonas and Kate turned to the windshield. They waited some more.
The cruiser's lights speared through the trees on the other side of the building. Its speed was unchecked. Jonas expelled a long breath. They'd done it. They'd lost him. Kate had lost him. And Jonas didn't know whether to kiss her or tear a strip off her a mile wide for the stunt she'd pulled to get them here. He cleared his throat.
"Do me a favor?" he asked.
"What?" Her voice sounded as shaky as his guts felt in the aftermath of their run.
"That truck thing you did back there? Please don't get any more adventurous than that with me in the vehicle."
She looked at him. He looked at her. A tiny giggle escaped her. He reciprocated with a snort. Suddenly, the floodgates of tension thrown wide, they both roared with laughter. They sat in the dark, two cops wanted by the law on both sides of the border, running for their lives, and collapsed in waves of hilarity.
At last their laughter died away and Kate restarted the vehicle and put it in gear. “We’ll head closer to Cornwall,” she said. “There are a couple of motels on the outskirts. We’ll find one where we can hole up until morning. The local force won’t have a lot of cars on the road at this hour, so we should be okay.”
And just like that, their shared moment of amusement was done. With a sigh tinged with more regret than he’d admit to, Jonas settled back in his seat and returned to watching over the dark side mirror as Kate navigated through the countryside by moonlight.
Chapter 24
Jonas stood in front of the service station, staring across the road at the long, low motel opposite. Specifically, at the chipped, faded door with the crooked number fourteen tacked to it. A string of flatbed trucks lumbered along the road, laden with construction materials and equipment, cutting off his view. He waited for them to crawl by, tapping the folded map against his thigh. Wondering if Kate had woken yet.
He wanted out of this "partnership" so badly he could taste it, dry and bitter on his tongue. Out of the partnership, out of the responsibility that came with it, and—most of all—out of the slow suffocation that came with having to rely on another human being. Even if that being was Kate.
He scuffed at the gravel shoulder. A spray of pebbles scattered across the pavement and disappeared under one of the flatbeds. Christ, he hadn't partnered with anyone in so long, he couldn't even remember how. Reported to, yes. Protocol had required him to check in regularly with Honeyman, his handler, but that was it. A discreet phone call, a brief meeting at a coffee counter, a text-messaged update. Short points of contact to reassure the agency that he still lived, or to pass on information he'd garnered. Undercover work suited him that way.
Jonas's mouth twisted. Given his reputation, he suspected it suited the agency, too. As good as he might be at his job, he knew full well he wasn't particularly popular among his colleagues. The few partners he'd had in the beginning had never lasted long, and he suspected putting him in undercover work had been his superiors' last-ditch effort to avoid more complaints about him. Fortunately, the arrangement had worked out in everyone's favor.
Until now.
The last truck passed by in a swirl of dust, and Jonas stared again at the tired door of room number fourteen. He squared his shoulders. Right. If he couldn't get out of this, they'd just have to set some ground rules up front. Kate might be a more experienced cop than he'd first thought, but the sooner they established who was in charge, the faster they'd be able to solve this mess and go their separate ways again. Alone.
The way his life was supposed to be lived.
He strode across the road.
***
Kate woke to the sound of pounding on a door. For a moment, she considered burrowing deeper under the covers to escape it. Then memories from the night before flooded back...with panic hot on their heels.
They’d been found.
She bolted upright in the motel bed. Motel. Because that’s where she and Jonas had ended up last night. In a shared room. For safety, Jonas had said, and she'd been too exhausted to argue.
“Jonas!” she hissed at the lump on the other bed, separated from hers by the width of a nightstand. The lump didn’t move. She tried again. “Jonas! Wake up—we’ve got company.”
The pounding at the door came again. The lump still didn’t respond. Kate slid out of bed and reached out to shake Jonas, but her hand met with no resistance under the mound of covers. Freaking hell...he wouldn’t have. Would he?
Her gaze flicked toward the bathroom, but the door stood open, the room within dark. Cold slivered through her belly. Jonas was gone. She didn’t want to believe it, but the cold covers and empty room spoke for themselves. He’d left. Taken off the first chance he’d had, just as he’d wanted to do all along, without so much as a word to her.
She wondered what had finally triggered him to run: that abhorrence of help he seemed to have, or the overzealous sense of responsibility that had him believing she’d be better off without him?
More pounding. Whoever was out there wasn’t giving up. Panic born of sleep deprivation welled in Kate’s chest. She took a deep breath, counted to three, and re-engaged her brain. Right, so there were two possibilities here. One, it was the local police at the door, in which case, she’d be okay. Probably going to prison, but at least she’d be alive.
The second possibility was that it was Jonas’s pursuers out there, in which case...panic welled again. Freaking hell, she was going to have to hold them off until the locals came.
Whatever reasons Jonas had decided he might have, he’d chosen a lousy time to bolt.
Grimly, Kate picked up
Dave's gun from the night table and checked its clip. Light glinted off the bullets nestled within. She shoved the clip back into place and then, on silent feet, padded across the carpet to the door. If there'd ever been the slightest question about her taking up a life of crime, this time with Jonas would have made her decide unequivocally against the possibility. Her nerves wouldn't stand the pressure.
Except she’d already taken up that life, hadn’t she?
Hell.
Holding her breath, she put her eye to the peephole on the door. A distorted image of Jonas filled her view, his fist raised. Kate’s jaw dropped, and she wrenched open the door as his hand descended.
"Will you be quiet!" she growled. "You're making enough noise to wake the dead!"
Jonas lowered his hand. "I forgot my key."
She waffled between annoyance and sheer, overwhelming relief that he hadn’t deserted her after all. Before she could decide on a reaction, his gaze dropped to the sweatshirt she wore, making her suddenly and acutely aware that the bottom of the garment barely brushed the tops of her thighs. Heat climbed into her cheeks.
Jonas’s gaze returned to hers. "Sorry," he said.
For what? Forgetting the key? Or staring at her like that and waking the unwanted fire in her belly again? Kate turned and stalked across the room to the jeans she'd left on a chair. She set down the gun and, with her back to Jonas, slid one leg at a time into the garment, ignoring the click of the door. The overhead light came on, dispelling the room’s dimness.
“I thought you might have decided to take off,” she said.
He didn’t answer, and Kate’s lips tightened. So. He’d considered it again, had he? Color her unsurprised.
"Where did you go?" she tried again as she did up the zipper and snap. "And what happened to safety in numbers?"
"You were sleeping." He'd closed the door and leaned against it. His powerful, navy T-shirt-clad shoulders lifted in a shrug.
“You could have woken me.”
"I needed to think."
"We stick together, Jonas. That's the deal." She held aside a curtain and peered out at the parking lot. If he'd been spotted—
"No one's there," Jonas said. "I made sure."
She let the curtain drop into place and reached for her socks. "So what were you thinking about?"
"What's next. Where we go from here."
"That’s something we should discuss togeth—"
"No,” he cut her off. “It's not."
Balanced on one foot, Kate raised an eyebrow, studying him. The grim jawline, the rigid shoulders, the crossed arms with hands fisted. "You have some kind of bee in your bonnet this morning. What's going on?"
His jawline took on an even more belligerent set. "I don't work well with a partner, so—"
"No shit," she muttered. Socks on, she straightened up.
Jonas's scowl deepened. "So," he repeated, "we need to set some ground rules before we go any further."
This time, both of Kate’s eyebrows rose. “Ground rules. Such as...?"
"Such as who's in charge."
She didn’t even try to hold back the snort. "You seem a little unclear on the concept of partners, Agent Burke. We're in this together, remember?"
"And it's my intention to get you safely out of it."
"Oh, for—" She broke off, rolling her eyes. "You can't seriously still think I'm not capable of holding my own. Not after yesterday."
His gaze flicked away from hers. "You're more experienced than I thought," he allowed, "but—"
"But what? Finding us transportation and getting us safely out of a high-speed chase wasn't enough to convince you I'm up to the challenge?"
"That's not the point." The blue eyes snapped back to glare at her. "I know the people we're up against, Kate. You don't. When it comes down to it, I need to know you'll do what I say when I say it. Without argument. I need to know you trust me."
"And I need to know you trust me." She returned his glower. "See? Already we're thinking alike. Because partners."
"Damn it, Kate, it's not that I won't consider your input, but we're going to be in my territory, gunning for people I work with. I need to be the one calling the shots."
Consider her input? He had to be kidding.
"Fine," she snapped. "Then let's start with how you plan to get us out of the country into your territory to begin with."
"I don't know yet. I'm still considering the options. We’ll have to be..." He trailed off as she crossed her arms, pursed her lips, and curled her sock-footed toes into the carpet. "Let me guess. You have an answer, don't you?"
“I might.”
“Well? Are you planning to share it or not?”
“Partners, Jonas.”
Thunder settled over the dark brow. Kate met his stare without flinching—and, she hoped, without revealing the turmoil in her gut. Was she pushing too hard? Too fast? Jonas wasn’t the kind of man to tolerate being cornered like this. What if he—
"Fine,” he growled. “You win. Partners. For now."
Kate swallowed a tart observation about how much it must have hurt for him to give in. That really would be pushing her luck. “Good," she said, keeping her tone mild.
"Good," he echoed, not quite as mildly. "There's a restaurant next door to the motel office. You can tell me your idea over breakfast."
Turning his back on their fledgling agreement, he pulled open the door and stalked outside. Kate sighed, slid her feet into her running shoes, scanned the room a final time to be sure she had everything, and slipped Dave's gun into the waistband of her jeans under her sweatshirt. Then she followed in Jonas's wake.
Baby steps, she told herself as she locked the door and pocketed the key. It was at least a start.
Chapter 25
Jonas held open the door of the coffee shop for Kate to precede him. She hesitated on the threshold, scanning the interior even as he did, proving anew the experience she claimed to possess. Knowing that didn't make it any easier to have her around, any more than having this partnership forced on him.
Or having her breast brush against his arm as she slipped past him.
Grinding his teeth together, he stared past her, focusing on the eating establishment. It was bigger than he'd expected, and busier, given the motel's location on the outskirts of what wasn't a big town to begin with. That was a good thing, making it less likely anyone would pay attention to them.
A scattered few tables sat empty, including one near the back with access to the kitchen—and an emergency exit, should they need it. Jonas opened his mouth to direct Kate to it, but she'd already started in that direction, and he clamped his lips together again as he followed.
To his surprise, Kate left the seat facing the restaurant's entrance for him, taking the one opposite. He stood beside the empty chair.
"You should take this one. You're the one carrying the—" he broke off, glancing at their surroundings. Not the best place to be discussing weapons, if one wanted to keep a low profile.
"And you're the one who knows who to watch for." She plucked a plastic-coated menu from beside the napkin holder and sent him what he could only term a sardonic look. "This is what partnership looks like, in case you were wondering."
"I know what—" He jerked the chair out from the table as the waitress stopped by with a coffee pot. He slid his mug across the table to be filled. "What's fastest?" he asked the waitress.
"That would be the morning special, hon." The frizzy-haired woman, who appeared to be the sole waitress in the place, slopped coffee into first his cup, then Kate's. "Bacon, ham, or sausage. Your choice of eggs. Toast. Home fries."
"Bacon," he said. "Over easy. Whole wheat."
Kate tucked the menu back into its holder by the napkins. "I'll have the same."
The waitress set the coffee pot on the table and tugged an order pad from her apron pocket. After noting their orders in a scrawl decipherable only to her—and, hopefully, the cook—she retrieved the coffee, slanted Jonas a smile, and
departed.
"I think she likes you," Kate murmured.
Still smarting from his lost battle and in no mood for humor, Jonas ignored the remark and reached across the table for the sugar and two creamers. He dumped them into his coffee and stirred, watching Kate massage her shoulder.
"Sore?" he asked grudgingly.
Her hand stilled, and she glanced at it as if surprised to see it there. Then she dropped it into her lap. "A little, I suppose. I hadn't really thought about it."
"You gave it quite the workout with that driving stunt last night." He set the spoon on the table. Kate shrugged.
"It is what it is at this point. At least it's usable."
Jonas felt certain there was more to it than that, but he reminded himself—for the four thousandth time—that he didn't want to know. Didn't want to care. And sure as hell didn’t want to be any more involved than he already was.
He looked past her, studying the other patrons without seeing them, mentally testing and discarding a dozen different topics of conversation as the silence stretched between them—again. Impatience threaded through him. He might not be the world's greatest conversationalist, but something about Kate seemed to shine a spotlight on that particular shortcoming. He shot her an irritated look, then clenched his fists to keep from reaching out to smooth the tumble of blond curls.
And that wasn't helping.
"You need a hairbrush," he growled.
Kate put a hand to her hair, grimacing. "That bad?"
No. That good. That sexy. That damned unsettling.
He shoved aside his libido's response. "Too memorable," he said instead. "We don't want to attract attention."
Nimble fingers raked through curls, dividing them into three sections, and a few seconds later, a not-quite-tidy but far more discreet braid hung over one shoulder. Kate patted at first one, then the other of her jeans pockets. She made a face.
"No elastic, but it should hold for a while."
Jonas set his jaw and went back to staring over her shoulder, abandoning any attempt at small talk.
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