by Mallory Kane
“You were right about someone being in here. I’m calling the police.” Sean backed out of the bathroom, retrieving his cell phone.
Sophie put her hand over his.
He glanced up, fear and anger etched into the lines of his face.
“Call Rafe.”
A flash of irritation crossed his features, but he paused, then shook his head. “Fine. I don’t guess it would do me any good to ask you why.”
He didn’t wait for her answer. He just dialed Rafe’s number and spoke to him.
“She’s fine,” he said. “Right. I’m planning to.” He paused. “Don’t worry. I will.”
He disconnected. “Get some clothes on. I need to get you out of here. I’m taking you to Carlos’s estate for the night.”
Not to his apartment.
She was shocked at herself. Why was that her first thought? She should be grateful that he’d been here. That he’d showed up when he had. She shuddered to think of what could have happened if she’d touched that wire.
But the fact that he would take her all the way to the Botero estate rather than to his apartment was like a slap to her face.
He didn’t want her around his daughter. Around him.
It shouldn’t bother her, she told herself. It shouldn’t matter. She’d spent most of her life making sure people couldn’t hurt her. But for some reason, Sean’s obvious regret over taking her to his home dug deep into her heart, wounding her in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years.
She lifted her chin. “I have Rachel’s Prius. I’ll go to Weddings Your Way. There are sleeping quarters there.”
“I’ll take you.”
“No. I’ll drive. Don’t you need to stay here and wait for Rafe?”
Sean clenched his fists and his face darkened. “Montoya will handle the crime scene. He asked me to make sure you’re safe.”
“It seems everyone is putting that burden on you tonight. Well, I can assure you it’s not necessary. There’s plenty of security at Weddings Your Way.”
“Did you somehow miss the obvious fact that you came within an inch of being killed tonight?”
Sean’s voice was raspy with emotion. His face still reflected anger, and when he’d been talking to Rafe, Sophie had noticed that his hand had been shaky.
Everything from the past two days came rushing into her mind like a flash flood. The shooting at the ransom drop, the emotion-laden meeting with Sean’s daughter and the heart-wrenching experience of making love with Sean afterward. The encounter with Johnson’s suspected murderer, and the car that had tried to run her into the guardrail.
Now danger had followed her into her own apartment. Someone had tried to kill her. She began to tremble.
“Yes, it has occurred to me, thank you,” she said coldly. “I’ll be fine at Weddings Your Way. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I’ll follow you,” he insisted.
“Fine.” She lifted her chin a fraction higher. “I’ll get my purse.”
To her surprise, Sean’s face relaxed in a crooked smile. “It might be better if you put some clothes on.”
Her face burned as her hand flew to cover her breasts. “Right. I’ll do that. Now.”
She fled into her bedroom.
FUENTES WAS SURPRISED to see Sophie come out of her apartment. When he’d seen Botero’s security chief drive up, he’d sunk down in the driver’s seat, hoping the man hadn’t seen him. He might have had to shoot him.
But after surveying the parking lot for a few moments, he’d knocked on Sophie’s door. Fuentes had smiled. He knew no one could trace him to the exposed wires in the shower, and who knew, maybe he’d kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. Maybe Sophie and her lover would shower together.
But now Sophie was alive and well, and headed for the little Prius, and Botero’s security chief got into his own car.
Well, there was more than one way to solve the problem of the inquisitive blonde. It didn’t matter to him if she was dead or just scared to death. Just so long as she didn’t make a positive identification of him.
He picked up his cell phone and spoke with an accomplice, giving him directions and a description of Sophie’s car. Then he started his car and pulled out behind the security chief, careful to stay far enough back that the man wouldn’t know he was being followed.
Care and patience. That was the key. He just hoped his buddy would be as careful. With any luck, Sophie would be gone tonight. But even if tonight’s plan didn’t work, there was always tomorrow. Sophie would come back to her apartment for a shower eventually.
Chapter Eight
Sean followed Sophie, silently cursing her for driving so fast. Was she trying to lose him? Surely she wasn’t planning to give him the slip and go somewhere other than Weddings Your Way.
He sped up, maneuvering around vehicles until he was right behind her. Traffic wasn’t too bad now. Earlier, on his way to Sophie’s apartment after Rachel Brennan’s call, it had been heavy.
He glanced at the dashboard clock. Ten o’clock. Rachel had called around eight-thirty. At least he’d had a chance to play with Michaela and read her a bedtime story. And thank goodness for Rosita. She complained constantly—always had, even when she was his nanny. But she adored Michaela, and she knew the nature of Sean’s business meant that he often kept late hours. She never minded sleeping over with his daughter.
Sophie pulled ahead again. They were only two exits away from Weddings Your Way. Sean saw the fine shape of her head silhouetted against the streetlights. She was beautiful.
In fact tonight, with no makeup on and her hair and those slinky pajamas plastered to her wet skin, she was the sexiest, most gorgeous thing he’d ever laid eyes on. She’d shed the sophisticated persona and looked vulnerable and soft, like she had in his bed.
The contradiction of her wet and shivering body and that Glock, which she held as if she’d been born with it in her hands, had been an excruciating turn-on.
His frustration at being called out to check on her by Rachel, and his anger at Sophie for going back to her apartment even though she knew someone had followed her, had dissolved into lust when she’d opened the door.
Her face had reflected genuine surprise, and those wide blue eyes had suckered him in, just like they always did.
A black car cut in front of him, separating him from Sophie and jerking his thoughts back to the present. He pulled into the left-hand lane, but the car zipped back over in front of him.
“What the hell?” He tried to make out the license plate but the light was out and the plate was smeared with mud.
Ahead of him, the Prius was pulling away.
Sean jerked the wheel and veered back into the far right lane, speeding up.
The black car pulled up beside him, so close it almost scraped his bumper. He glanced sideways, but the windows were darkly tinted. Flooring the accelerator, he pulled ahead.
Where was Sophie? Suddenly the interstate seemed crowded.
There she was, three cars ahead. A mid-sized dark blue Ford pulled up beside her and swerved toward her.
He cursed and glanced in the side mirror. The black car was gaining on him. He kept his foot pressed to the floor.
The Ford scraped the side of the Prius.
Sean’s heart thudded against his chest wall.
Come on, he urged his car. Move! He was gaining on the two vehicles.
The Ford veered away, then swerved back.
Sean cringed as Sophie jerked the Prius to the right, onto the shoulder. The Ford closed in on her, keeping pace with her speed.
Sean leaned on his horn as he passed an SUV.
The Prius wobbled on the rough pavement. He saw the brake lights come on as Sophie tried to escape the sedan by slowing down.
“Good move, Sophie.”
But it didn’t work. The Ford slowed, too, and continued to crowd the little Prius.
Then the right side of Sophie’s front fender caught the guardrail and swung sidew
ays, out into traffic.
Horns blared and brakes squealed as vehicles dodged the little car. The Ford took off with a burst of speed.
Sean watched in horror as the little Prius twirled around and around like a top, its tires squealing and sliding on the pavement.
He braked, maneuvering toward the wildly spinning car, hoping that he could figure out some way to stop the inevitable crash.
Time slowed around him as he watched helplessly. Later, he would remember a vague awareness that the black car had disappeared. But now all that mattered was that Sophie was inside the out-of-control Prius. She could be killed or horribly injured, and he could do nothing but watch it unfold like a video in slow motion.
The Prius finally stopped turning, facing traffic, and slid sideways into the guardrail with the deafening screech of crushing metal.
“No!” Sean couldn’t breathe. His heart had stopped beating.
He stood on his brakes. His car came to a screaming halt about four feet from the mangled metal of the Prius.
“Oh no! Please, God, please—”
He threw himself out of the driver’s seat and ran to Sophie. The Prius had turned completely around, crashing the passenger side into the concrete-and-metal guardrail. The entire length of that side of the car was crushed, and steam was escaping from under the hood.
He steeled himself. He’d seen death and injury before. He’d knelt beside a fellow soldier, trying to stop the flow of blood from the boy’s chest with his hands. The soldier hadn’t made it. Sean had spent the rest of the day covered in the dead boy’s blood.
But if Sophie was dead—if her beautiful scarred body was broken—
Sean shook his head to rid his eyes of the haze of tears. His heart hammered in his chest. It surprised him. He’d thought it had stopped.
The only thing he saw through the driver’s window was the air bag. He wiped his eyes with his palms and clenched his jaw, then reached out and yanked on the door handle.
It opened.
He took a deep breath that caught at the top like a sob. Retrieving a small knife from his pocket he popped the air bag.
As the white fabric collapsed like a balloon, he pushed it out of the way.
Sophie. She was slumped over the seat belt strap that held her in place. Her eyes were closed and her head lolled on her chest.
“Sophie.” His lips moved, but his throat was paralyzed with fear. No sound escaped.
“Sophie,” he said again, raspily.
Nothing.
He placed shaking fingers on her neck, searching for a pulse, praying to feel the swish of blood under that delicate skin.
She moaned.
His breath whooshed out in an audible sigh. He laughed shakily, nervously as his eyes filled with tears.
She was alive.
“Sophie, talk to me. Are you hurt?” He scanned her body, pushing away more of the deflated air bag, looking for blood. Her legs looked okay.
He lifted her chin and saw a huge red mark over her left brow. Her eyelids fluttered and she stared up at him, wide-eyed.
“Sean, I ran off the road,” she whispered. “My hand hurts.”
“Sophie, if I unbuckle your seat belt, can you stand?”
She never took her eyes off him. “I don’t know.” She blinked slowly. “Am I bleeding?”
He cradled her head, noticing that her hair was still damp. “I don’t think so, but we’ll check. Where do you hurt?”
Closing her eyes, she frowned. “My head. My hand. Everything.”
Sean leaned over and unbuckled the seat belt. “Let’s get you out of here.”
A car stopped behind them. Sean stiffened, then straightened up and reached behind his back, closing his fist around the butt of his gun.
The man came running over. “Everything okay? Need help?”
“I think we’re okay,” Sean said, relaxing his hand. “Could you call 911?”
“Sure thing.” The man peered inside the Prius. “Anybody else in there?”
Sean shook his head. “I think her injuries are minor, but tell them to send the EMTs just in case.”
“No problem, bud,” the man said, pulling out his cell phone.
Sean noticed other cars slowing and stopping, but he left it to the good Samaritan to let them know that the accident was a minor one.
When he turned back to Sophie, she was beginning to carefully move her body.
“Here,” he said. “Let me help.”
“No. I’m okay.” She lifted her right hand, then cried out sharply and froze. Her face drained of color.
“What is it?”
“My—hand—” She gasped.
Sean looked down at it. There was an odd bump on the back, and it was turning purple. He touched it gently with a finger but she cried out again so he stopped. “I think it may be broken.”
She nodded slightly, her lips pressed together, their corners white. “I feel sick.”
“Just lean your head back. The EMTs will be here any minute.” As he spoke, sirens wailed in the distance. “Any second.”
She obediently put her head back against the seat. “What happened?”
“Just exactly what I expected might happen. A car ran you off the road—again.”
Sophie opened one eye to a slit. “Believe it or not, I know that. I was there. When the fender hit the guardrail, the air bag deployed. I guess it knocked me out, because that’s the last thing I remember.”
“You spun around about four times before slamming into the rail.”
“No wonder I feel dizzy.”
Sean brushed her hair back from her face, careful not to touch the darkening bruise on her brow. “You feel dizzy because the air bag gave you a black eye.”
Her eyes flew open and her left hand gingerly touched her head. She winced. “I need to get out of here.” She tried to sit up, but Sean stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
“Wait. The EMTs are here.”
Just as he spoke, the ambulance pulled up in front of the Prius and a man dressed in white rushed over carrying an emergency kit. “Got an injury here?”
Sean squeezed Sophie’s shoulder and got out of the way. A police car was headed toward them, so Sean quickly took out his cell phone and dialed Montoya.
“I don’t have time to talk,” he said as soon as Montoya answered. “Someone ran Sophie off the road. She’s bruised and shaken, but I think she’s okay. The police are here.”
To his credit, Montoya didn’t waste any words. “Can you play it as an accident?”
“On one condition.”
“Yeah?”
“That you tell me what’s going on.”
“Look, Majors—”
A middle-aged officer walked up. Even though the streetlights were bright, the officer held his flashlight at shoulder level.
“Gotta go. The police are here.”
He flipped his phone shut.
“What happened here? Is the driver okay?”
Sean glanced at Sophie, who was being helped out of the car by the EMT. She cradled her right hand against her chest, and wobbled as she tried to stand. The EMT held her left elbow to steady her. She finally nodded, and the two of them walked slowly toward the open ambulance door.
His cell phone, which he still held in his hand, rang. He flipped it open and looked at the caller ID. It was Montoya. He didn’t answer it.
The officer shone his flashlight at Sean’s face. “Sir, I asked what happened.”
Sean knew what he did in the next few seconds could affect Rachel Brennan’s agenda. She was obviously working with the police commissioner. He hadn’t forgotten the commissioner’s words.
Trust us. There are some very touchy international matters…. We have no choice but to maintain a low profile.
He took a deep breath and met the police officer’s impatient gaze.
“I was following Ms. Brooks in my car when a dark blue Ford sideswiped her. She lost control. The other car didn’t even slow down. It’s
possible he didn’t even know she’d crashed.” Sean swallowed the bitter taste of lies. “It was an accident.”
“IS THERE ANYTHING else you need?” Sean stood at the door of one of the guest suites of Carlos Botero’s mansion, trying not to be affected by Sophie. She looked so small and vulnerable in a white T-shirt of his that didn’t quite make it to mid-thigh.
Her feet were bare, and a wrist brace decorated her right hand. The bruise over her eye was turning dark blue.
She shook her head. “Whose T-shirt is this?”
“It’s mine. I keep a change of clothes here, in case I have to stay overnight.” He glanced at his watch. During the past two hours, he’d given a statement to the police that contained so many lies and omissions it was worthy of prosecution.
He’d called Rosita to check on Michaela, filled Montoya in on the team effort to kill Sophie and picked her up at the emergency room and driven her to Carlos’s estate, ignoring her protests.
He was tired. He needed sleep. And so did she.
“Are you staying overnight tonight?”
He shook his head.
“You’re leaving me here alone in Botero’s estate? Does he even know I’m here? Does anyone?”
“I don’t bother Mr. Botero with trivial matters. His nurse and the security staff know you’re here. You’ll be safe, and well taken care of.”
“Trivial matters. I see.”
Sean winced. He hadn’t meant it like that. “Mr. Botero is very ill. He’s waiting to hear something about his daughter. I don’t want him to know that people are being targeted.”
She nodded, then touched her head with her left hand. “I think I’ve got to lie down.”
Sean reached her side in two long strides and slid an arm around her waist. “Did they give you pain medication at the emergency room?”
“An injection. I feel sick.”
Her body shook, and her skin felt clammy. “It was probably some form of codeine or morphine. When did you last eat?”
