by Dawn Ryder
In your dreams …
Yeah, well, those sorts of mental fascinations needed to go. There was no way she was going to add slobbering over him to her list of things to deal with. The only problem was now, with the aid of her newly established cold-turkey-break from social media, she had lots of time to dwell on Saxon Hale.
Lord knew the guy had details to enjoy lingering on.
Thought you were going to stop thinking about him?
Good advice.
Something she’d always had a challenge with following.
Ginger had rolled onto her side, facing away from Saxon in some attempt to maintain her private space. She had the room memorized now. There were a couple of books on the bottom of the bedside table. On impulse, she stretched down to reach one. It required her to lean far over the edge of the bed, her head off the side of it because she hadn’t bothered to sit up.
But as she hooked one, drawing it toward her, there was a whiz and a soft sound of something hitting her pillow. A second later, Saxon came across the bed, slamming into her and shoving her onto the floor.
He pressed her into the carpet before he was levering himself up and returning fire. This time, her brain didn’t freeze. It identified the soft sounds as gunfire as she flattened her hands on the ground and shoved herself back, toward the door.
You’ve got to help yourself, Ginger!
The absolute truth of that thought pushed her into action. She had to do something to help.
“They’ve got heat sensing goggles.” Saxon growled as he came toward her and pulled her farther into the house.
The popping sounds followed them as Bram and Dare came into sight. Both agents were holding their guns at eye level as they lined up the sights.
She flattened herself against the wall as Saxon shoved her back with his body. There was a pop, and he instantly targeted the location, squeezing off two rounds from his gun.
Her heart took to accelerating again, like she was too chicken to deal with things. Ginger drew in a deep breath and ordered herself to get control. There was a sound of muffled pain before she heard Kitten’s voice coming down the hallway.
“You can’t leave me here to get shot!”
Bram cussed before he moved out of sight, Dare watching him and following a moment later.
“Kitchen.” Saxon gave her the single-word command.
“Right.” She slid across the wall and around a corner. The blinds were closed tight in what would have normally been a cheery little breakfast nook.
Now, it looked more like a potential deathtrap.
Heat seeking …
Saxon’s words burst in her brain as she took in the cast-iron skillet sitting on the range.
“Fire,” she said.
“What?” Saxon demanded as he turned to look at her.
“I’m going to start a fire.”
He grasped her meaning instantly. “Do it.”
She fumbled across the short space and turned the gas range knob to the light position. It popped as the lighter engaged and it burst into a blue flame. She shoved a roll of paper towels into it as Saxon pulled her down to the floor.
There was a pop and the paper towels went flying across the counter to land on the table, one end of it burning.
“Evac now!” Saxon yelled.
The breakfast nook windows were shattering as Saxon pulled her though the living room. They dove into the attached garage and went across the rough concrete. The soles of her feet were shredding, but she ignored the pain in favor of making a dash for freedom. Her lungs were burning as she demanded more from her body, more speed, more strength, just more … life.
She gained a glimpse of a car’s headlights right before she was shoved into the backseat by Saxon.
The breath was knocked clean out of her, but that didn’t stop her from clawing her way across the backseat.
“Get in if you want to live.”
Ginger heard Dare growling at Kitten as she made a sound of protest before the agent shoved her into the trunk and followed her, yanking it closed. There was a pounding sound from behind the backseat that seemed to tell Bram Magnus to drive.
The captain took off with a peel of rubber.
Ginger went tumbling into the door, because she had stopped to take time to draw in some deep breaths. Saxon caught her arm, preventing her from getting a nasty bash on the side of her head when Bram went through the intersection on two wheels and turned them down an alleyway. The second change in direction sent her smacking into Saxon.
He absorbed the impact, clamping his arms around her and driving home just how hard his body was. Bram wasn’t finished yet. He drove the car like a jeep in a war movie, heading right up and over the sidewalk at times before he finally decided that they weren’t being tailed and slid into traffic.
Saxon held her the entire time. Or maybe it was more fair to say that she clung to him. When he did unlock his arms, she felt a flicker of heat teasing her cheeks because of just how hard she’d been holding onto him.
“Thanks,” she managed to say, hoping it sounded mundane as opposed to personal. A look into his blue eyes gave a brief moment of her catching the guy off guard before he slid his professional mask into place.
“Still think it’s funny?” he asked.
He hadn’t quite shifted back into his business mode. There was something flickering in his eyes that betrayed his enjoyment of managing to escape.
“Beats throwing a pity party.” The words just came out of the part of her that had seen her striding off into the French Quarter seeking adventure.
Honestly, it was a big fucking relief to feel that little thump of happiness inside her. Maybe she didn’t need to get a tattoo that said “pathetic” across her forehead after all. She’d surprised Saxon Hale. Ginger watched the flare of approval fill his blue eyes while his lips curved into a grin that transformed his face into something that was drop-dead gorgeous.
That was what she needed to latch onto.
It renewed her grip on life, filling her with a confidence that made the bruises worth it all.
“Some folks might agree with you, Ms. Boyce.”
His tone had a husky edge to it, telling her he was exactly that sort of man. He shifted his attention away from her, leaving her grinning like she’d won some personal victory.
Maybe she had.
At least she was no longer a panicked chicken or nursing loneliness like a kitten sitting in the gutter. Sure, there were a hell of a lot of unknowns still circling her like buzzards, but she’d chuck as many rocks at them as she could.
Because there was no way they would feast on her until she was dead.
* * *
“You’re kidding me.” The local police officer who had responded to the 911 call didn’t seem very impressed when Tyler flashed his badge.
“What does the Secret Service have to do with this?” the cop asked. “I guess you guys don’t have to fill out a multi-page report for every bullet you squeeze off like my guys do.”
The police captain jerked his head toward the house behind him. His men had already started tagging the bullets and holes with little yellow markers that the members of the Secret Service were just as quickly removing.
Tyler Martin tucked the badge into his pocket. “Special Agent Herbert. We weren’t here.” He looked past the police officer at one of the Secret Service. “Sterilize the scene.”
“Now just a damn minute,” the lead officer began. “A neighbor reported the gunfire, that’s not going away.”
“It will,” Tyler replied.
There was a squawk from across the way as one of the dark-suited men broke a cell phone in half and the resident protested. The man wasn’t intimidated in the least. He finished grinding the phone beneath his polished shoe heel and flashed his badge in the person’s face, all while rattling off a perfectly memorized legal threat of what would happen if they talked about what had happened. Two other black-suited men emerged from the house with several other mob
ile media devices in hand. The home owner was so enraged, his face was beet red and he bent over to brace his hands on his knees as he labored to pull in breath. One of the bored paramedics standing around made his way over to the guy.
The team of tight-faced Secret Service was waiting, standing behind Tyler as they watched in complete silence.
“Dust for prints on the door handles.” Tyler ordered.
There was immediate action. The cops watched as evidence kits were opened and print dusting began.
“Thank you,” Herbert said. “We’ll take it from here. Take traffic control.”
The cop growled but hiked back across the lawn to his patrol car, his men following. They were chewing on questions they knew they’d never get any answers to. The Secret Service had the privilege of rank over them. Which was exactly what Tyler had asked Davis for.
He looked at the badge, wincing at the name. Walter Herbert. Carl Davis had a twisted sense of humor, but the man did know how to come through. Tyler watched the team, waiting for results. He went back inside the house, standing in the front room as one of the members worked on a laptop.
“I have prints belonging to a Miss Ginger Melody Boyce,” he informed Tyler. “But they are only on file because she works for the public social services. Research department attached to child welfare. Official classification is librarian.”
“Young lady is a long way from home,” Tyler observed.
“She was here,” the agent answered. “Lifted prints off the bedroom door as well as the kitchen.”
“Nothing else?” Tyler inquired.
The man shook his head.
“Check her bank card and credit cards for local purchases,” Tyler ordered. Now that they had her name, he could start to put the squeeze on her.
The agent typed away at the keyboard, tapping on the side of the case the laptop was mounted in when he finished and waited for a response. The world was harder to hide in with its network of computers. It was a fact Tyler Martin knew well and one of the reasons he’d signed on as now-deceased Congressman Jeb Ryland. Men he’d put away would find him and send their partners after him. Crime was more organized in the modern era.
“She’s registered for a convention at the Hyatt on Bourbon Street in the French Quarter. Last purchase was at a clothing shop this evening.”
“Picture?” Tyler leaned over the guy’s shoulder, looking at the information on the screen. Ms. Ginger Melody Boyce looked back at him, her public identification photo showing him a conservative-looking woman.
Got you.
He soaked up the details on display, focusing on the fact that he’d found her instead of how innocent she was. She lived in a place called Cattle Creek? Christ, she really was a mouse. Tyler actually felt a touch of reluctance to deal with her, but he needed to focus. If he were smart, he’d look at the reality of the fact that wiping her pathetic life off the face of the planet wasn’t going to be very hard.
“Load up.”
It took only moments for the team to climb into their black SUV. They pulled away from the curb while Tyler was deciding where to go. Tension was knotted in his gut because Saxon might not have seen him, but that in no way meant he wouldn’t know who was on his tail.
“Do a search of other homes in probate inside a sixty-mile radius.” Tyler heard the laptop case open. “And find me any private airstrips.”
Saxon would want to move her fast. He wasn’t a fool when it came to the reach that Tyler had when backed by Carl Davis. Tyler looked at the screen of the laptop as private air strips popped up. “That one. Lakefront.”
The driver drove across three lanes to make a U-turn. Tyler tightened his resolve. He needed to get Saxon now because he knew just how good the man was.
Saxon had been his prized apprentice.
* * *
Saxon’s phone rang. He took his hand off her neck to answer it. Ginger turned her head, gaining an interesting view of the man as he put the phone to his ear.
“Right, we’re en route now. Had our cover blown at the house. Wipe it from the list.”
The way he spoke was so concentrated. She might have admired it if she wasn’t so determined to straighten her back and earn that look of admiration from him. Honestly, fatigue was starting to twist her thoughts around, making it easy to long for someone to lean on.
Don’t you dare …
She heard a thump from the trunk that made her let out a little sigh.
“Shouldn’t we let your fellow agent out?”
Saxon’s gaze cut to her. “No time.”
Ginger didn’t care for the chill that went down her spine. She cast a look out the window. It was surreal, the way people were passing them. Just normal people going to work, the market, maybe to a movie.
They had it better than they realized.
“Lakefront airport.” Saxon was also clearly used to being in command. He sent out his instructions to Bram, and a moment later, she felt the car changing direction. “We have a charter plane at our disposal.”
“Where are you taking me?” She asked in an attempt to keep her brain working on something tangible. “I mean, from there?”
“Undecided” was his response.
“Mystery trip,” she drawled out before she caught herself. “Sorry, that’s an inside family sort of joke.”
His lips twitched into a grin, but he squelched the response, his jaw tightening as if the little response infuriated him.
“Don’t worry, I plan to get you settled in a place where you can go back to reading all the romance novels you like.”
“Oh … wow,” she mocked him softly. “I’ve never heard a male making fun of romance books before.”
He cut her a look that betrayed how much he enjoyed her taking issue with him.
Ginger scoffed at him. “Careful, I’m the town terror when it comes to setting males like you on their ear.”
He offered her a look that informed her how unimpressed he was with her claim.
“If I do my job right, we won’t be together long enough.”
“Why not?” She asked.
His features tightened like he was trying to hide something. “I don’t do witness protection. We’re a ground team.”
“That makes sense.” She nodded as it sunk in, and then she turned to look out of the window because she didn’t like how it made her feel. Her musings with him had seemed harmless enough but now she realized that the stability she was feeling was about to have the carpet jerked out from under her feet, all the excitement was just a very pretty coating on what was going to be a bitter pill to swallow.
Okay, she was repentant at long last.
And regret totally sucked just as much as she’d been warned it would.
* * *
The entire team was tense.
Ginger felt the tension move through her. It left behind a residue that she really wanted to rid herself of, like oil that clung and drove you near crazy as you tried to wash it off, all the while knowing it had sunk into your pores.
It was unsettling because they had always been so confident. Maybe she didn’t know all that much about them, but she was left with one firm conclusion. They didn’t mess around and if they were nervous, there was a mighty good reason.
She wanted to cuss again, but “fuck” was getting a little repetitive.
“Let’s do this,” Saxon said softly. “Check the aircraft.”
Bram got out of the car. Ginger started to open the door and earned a snort from Saxon.
“Don’t make it too easy for them, Ms. Boyce.” He cut her a hard look. “Even Bad Guys need their egos shined. Pop your head up and it will be like shooting fish in a barrel.”
“So give me a gun to make it more challenging.” She held out her hand. “You strike me as the sort who has a backup weapon.”
She gained another flash of surprise from him as he contemplated her.
“You know how to handle a firearm?” he asked dryly.
“Small-town girl,”
she offered. “My Dad’s idea of a great Sunday afternoon is shooting up the river bed. No empty can is safe.”
She heard him chuckle. Oh, it was really low, because he kept it trapped in the back of his throat, but she smiled at him, letting him know she was on to him.
There was a thump from the trunk right behind her and a muffled scream.
“I better get my man out of there.”
She didn’t get a chance to ask him about a gun again because he opened the door and got out. It left her there looking at a white, private plane sitting about ten feet away. Bram Magnus appeared in the doorway, stooping to avoid hitting his head. He went to descend the steps but didn’t walk down them. No, he clasped the rails and jumped, sliding down to the ground in a flash.
Adrenaline Junkie.
They were all that and then some. She knew what it looked like, Cattle Creek might be small but what it had an abundance of was hands-on people.
Bram was in sight again, climbing back up the steps and disappearing into the aircraft. There was a whine as the engines started up. Ginger gained a glimpse of Bram through the small window in the cockpit of the aircraft, a pair of head phones on as he concentrated on preparing for take-off.
Saxon appeared with Kitten. She was untied and ungagged, but he had a firm hold on her arm and a look on his face that promised her a hard landing if he had to take her down. He made eye contact with her, and she felt him making some sort of choice. A second later he handed Kitten off to Dare and motioned Ginger out of the car.
Trust.
Well, maybe that was stretching things a little but, it was better than what Kitten was getting.
Ginger opened the door. Her feet were more cut up than she’d realized because the second she tried to put her weight on them, agony went shooting up her legs. It made her gasp, and she felt sweat pop out on her forehead like she was crossing a floor covered in Legos.
Ginger gritted her teeth and forced herself to remain standing by sheer force of will. She moved away from the car, calling on her reserves of self-control to keep from dancing across the pavement. Saxon didn’t miss it thought. He started moving toward her, his stride so damned purposeful, it captivated her. For a moment, time seemed to slow down because he was everything she had never expected to find in a living, breathing man. Maybe she was in shock, but nothing else mattered just then. There was only him and the way she felt pinned in place by his gaze. He had a sense of persona that was gripping, binding her to him by some force that was beyond the physicality’s of the tangible world.
