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Ranger Guardian

Page 21

by Angi Morgan


  Jane flinched, but he didn’t wait for her to answer, heading for the door.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  This was a mistake. She should’ve known how deep Sullivan’s hatred for her flowed, but she’d run out of options. Jane followed on his heels toward the elevator, allowing a good amount of distance between them as they crowded into the small space on the way down to the parking garage. Neither said a word. His clean scent wrapped around her, and she gripped the handrail to clear her head. In less than a minute, he led her out of the elevator and across the empty parking garage toward a black SUV.

  Tingling spread across her back—an all-too-familiar feeling—and Jane turned back toward the elevator, heart in her throat. Darkness surrounded them. Everyone in the building had already gone home for the day. She’d made sure. Everyone except Sullivan and a few security guards, but someone else was here. He was here, watching her. She felt it.

  “Jane.” Sullivan’s deep timbre flooded her nerves with relief, but she couldn’t shake the feeling they were being watched. “Jane,” he said again.

  She stared at him. It was her imagination. Had to be. There was no way anyone could’ve followed her here. She’d been too careful, but still, the sensation between her shoulder blades prickled her instincts. “I’m coming.”

  Sullivan ripped open the driver’s-side door of the large black SUV, his eyes sweeping across the parking garage as she moved to the other side. Once she was safely inside the car, the sensation disappeared and Jane breathed a bit easier. Nobody had been watching her. The constant paranoia had just become a habit.

  Sullivan slammed the door behind him and started the engine. Black leather and dark interiors gave her a false sense of security, but having him in the driver’s seat eased some of the tension on either side of her spine. At the exit, he lowered the window and scanned his key card. Nobody went in or out of the garage without a card. He swung the SUV north through an area of warehouses and railroads, as though he knew exactly where they were headed.

  The SUV plowed through the wet streets of downtown Anchorage, spitting up water and snow along the way. The heater chased away the ice that’d built inside her over the past few weeks. She was reminded of Sullivan’s heat back in his office. The same heat rolled off him in waves now. She watched him from her peripheral vision. He wore only a T-shirt and jeans in these temperatures, a human furnace. It’d been too long since she’d felt anything but fear.

  “I know what you’ve heard about me, what they called me in Afghanistan. I’m not as cold as you think.” Sitting straighter in her seat, Jane stared down into her lap to counteract the need to explain herself to Blackhawk Security’s CEO. “I didn’t want to dig into your history. I needed—”

  “We’re not doing this right now,” he said, one hand on the wheel. He still wouldn’t look at her. Typical alpha male, determined not to talk. Sullivan pressed his foot on the accelerator as they rolled onto the bridge across Knik Arm, the shallow water almost motionless with a few inches of ice across the top.

  “All right.” She wiped her clammy hands down her thighs. “Tough crowd.”

  A light falling of snow peppered the windshield. Nothing like the storms Anchorage usually saw this time of year, but just as beautiful as she remembered growing up in Seattle.

  The high screech of peeling tires broke their self-imposed silence, and Jane swept her gaze out the window. Blinded by fast-approaching headlights, she shoved away from the door as a truck slammed into her side of the SUV.

  Copyright © 2018 by Natascha Jaff

  ISBN-13: 9781488033414

  Ranger Guardian

  Copyright © 2018 by Angela Platt

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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