by Wendy Byrne
Just to be sure they had the time that might be required, she turned around. Oh, hell. "They're getting closer." Her pulse quadrupled. She didn't have the fortitude for another shootout, but she hadn't reached the point where she'd wuss out, either. She was somewhere in that twilight zone of forced complacency.
"Bad news. I think I might have damaged something on the car going over that curb." The weird noises coming from underneath supported his suspicions.
"You're a guy—can't you make a guess whether you did or didn't?" Between the clunking and grinding noises, something was wrong. Could this whole thing get any worse?
"That's a sexist comment." He gave her a look that, despite the circumstances, made her smile. "I'm not a car expert, but the steering is jacked, and the speedometer doesn't seem to want to go over sixty. And then there's that noise that sounds suspiciously like the bottom might drop any second. We gotta bail, but where's the best place?"
"It depends. Do you want them to think we're dead?"
"Dead would be good." He gave her one of those smiles meant to charm again. "What are you thinking?"
"I've got some C-4 in my backpack."
"C-4 in your backpack? You're my new hero. I could kiss you about now." He shook his head. "The file didn't say anything about you being one scary lady."
She shrugged. "You never know when you might run into some bad guys. I believe in being prepared. What do you think?"
"I think it's too risky. It's not like you could lob the things at them like a grenade or something." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "You don't have one of those in there too, do you? 'Cause I could totally get behind the grenade thing, even though The Alliance would more than likely kill me for getting a little nuclear on them." He shrugged. "What can I say, it's a guy thing."
She tsked. "Sorry to get your hopes up but no grenades in my backpack. And you're right about the timing thing. By the time we'd be able to detonate the C-4, they'd be wise to our ploy." She sucked in a breath and tried to get her brain to cooperate. "There's a stretch of road ahead that's narrow, hilly, and steep. At least every couple of months somebody ends up going over the edge. If we can get far enough in front of them, jump out of the car or push the car over the edge, the car explodes. We head off to the trail and end up near the train station. From there we can get the hell out of here."
"It doesn't seem like we need to blow it up if we can gain enough on them. We only need about two minutes to give us some breathing space."
She gauged the distance and knew they couldn't make up the time. "Take the next left. Pull into the Walmart parking lot. We'll run inside, but run right out the back. It's about a half-mile from the trail that will lead us to the Alexandria Train Station. There's a train to DC that leaves in a half-hour. If we're quick, we can make it."
"Sounds good." He squealed around the corner. And the Walmart came into view. The cars were a little more than a block behind them now.
He stopped, throwing the car into park. She ran. He followed. They passed through the doors of the nearly deserted store.
"It's straight back, but with the high shelves they'll have a hard time tracking us. We'll zigzag through." When he grasped her hand, she was a little surprised.
Then again, he probably didn't trust her. The feeling was mutual.
CHAPTER FOUR
Jake had to give her credit. She was good at thinking on her feet. It wasn't the most brilliant plan, but it was the only one possible, given their circumstances. Even if she was holding out on him.
They barreled through the Walmart and pushed through the back doors. Men in back were unloading trucks but didn't pay them much attention as they headed toward the trail.
Nobody was behind them so far. They'd be covered by the woods within moments. He was feeling good about this plan.
She wasn't struggling for breath even though the pace he set was intense. And she had the backpack filled with God-knows-what. His offer to carry it for her had been met with a scowl. Clearly she didn't trust him either. He didn't think the pack weighed much—then again, how much C-4 did she have?
They were sniffing around each other with caution. He'd seen it a million times before. He didn't know her, and she didn't know him, and he sure as hell wasn't going to trust her. And she sure as hell wasn't going to trust him.
And why did she say something about Russians before she caught herself? Was she a triple agent? As if he didn't have enough stuff to sift through.
He suspected she'd try to lose him the first chance she had. Getting lulled into a sense of complacency wasn't going to be an option until he could secure her somehow.
She was holding out on him, and clearly the CIA was doing the same. He had to talk with Jennings and hope he could get to the bottom of it. Getting used as target practice was never something he took kindly to, especially when he thought the toughest part would be getting her to cooperate and separate the truth from BS.
"How much further?" He broke out in a cold sweat. Not being in control of a situation had always been one of his biggest fears. Planning and execution were the keys to success. Followed by knowing whom to trust. A lesson he'd yet to learn.
"About a half-mile."
A little over five minutes later, he saw the outline of what looked like a station, even while a few cars littered the empty parking lot. "If they figure out where we've gone, we're pretty much sitting ducks."
"If they don't know the area, they won't think about the train. At least not right away."
"Those guys seemed like CIA people. Were they?" He needed to poke around some more, and now seemed to be a good time.
Her face went pale. "CIA? I figured they were—"
"Russians? That's what you said before." He waited a beat to let her know he wasn't fooled. Then he turned on the charm. "I can't help you unless you tell me what's going on."
"Except I don't need your help."
"You would have been a sitting duck in that coffee shop if it weren't for me. Not bragging, of course."
She rolled her eyes and increased their pace. "I can see bragging would be quite a stretch for you."
"Ouch, that hurt."
"You'll get over it." She pointed. "There's the station. From DC we can head to New York."
He almost asked her why she wanted to go to New York, but refrained. Chances were she wouldn't answer anyway. "You better hope they haven't figured out we've abandoned the car yet."
"We'll be safe. They didn't seem like the sharpest tools in the shed."
He wanted to ask how she would know that, but didn't. Instead, they rushed into the station. He zipped up his leather jacket and placed a possessive arm around her shoulders.
The last thing he wanted was to be memorable. When she started to pull away, he cinched her closer and walked toward the train. "If you could act a little bit like you like me that might help our cause. We've got to blend in."
It didn't take long for them to arrive at the station in DC. So far no trouble, which made him a little nervous. He knew how these types of guys operated, and they wouldn't give up easily. It couldn't have taken them long to track them to the station. It wouldn't take much initiative to figure out they went to DC, where they could hop on a train to another city.
He pointed to the sign above the ticket counter. "I live in New York. We can hunker down and figure out who's after you and why. Once we find that out, we'll be in a better position to turn this thing against them."
"I'm all for that, except I can figure this out on my own."
"Did you forget we're a team now?"
"You know darn well I'm going to cut you loose as soon as I can. If you haven't figured that out, you're not as smart as somebody who works for The Alliance should be."
"That doesn't mean you'll be successful."
"Being in New York puts you at an advantage, to be sure."
"This isn't about who has the upper hand. This is about keeping you safe. What part of that don't you understand?"
"The part where I need you to keep me safe. I'm a trained CIA agent. I don't need any wannabe to think he can come charging in and sweep me out of danger."
"I'm your partner, not your rescuer." And her judge and jury at the same time. What an effed-up assignment. She didn't want him. He wasn't sure he wanted to be responsible for her wellbeing, either.
"I don't work with partners."
"Neither do I, except for my siblings. But I guess there's a first time for everything."
By the time they pulled into Grand Central Station, Jake knew he was in trouble. With the crush of the early morning crowd, along with a sprinkle of Christmas shoppers into the city, this had all the makings of a gigantic mistake. He couldn't have picked a worse time to arrive.
He gripped tightly to her bicep as they tunneled through the crowds. Being hemmed in on all sides worked in his favor and allowed his fingers to soften somewhat on her arm.
Seconds later, she brought her elbow back for the perfect strike right at his solar plexus. His breath stalled. Training couldn't prevent the reflexive action of his nerves causing him to double over. He should have seen that coming.
By the time he recovered, she was lost in the sea of bodies sloshing through the morning chaos. The place was a massive structure and seemed even more so as he jostled through the crowd in search of a woman he'd known mere hours, and who had already managed to give him the slip. Because he was taller than most of those around him, he could follow her progress. She plodded on, never taking the time to look back to gauge his progress.
"Tessa," he shouted into the crowd without so much as a backward glance from her.
He lost track of her momentarily and used a chair at the shoeshine station to get a better view. The shiner wasn't very happy until Jake flipped him a fifty for his trouble. He spotted the top of her head, and then she disappeared into the rush of commuters. The idea of failure crashed inside his brain. No effin' way. Finally he spotted her heading for the escalator on her way out.
Damn.
He jumped down from the chair. Once she hit the street, his job became twice as tough. Based on the file, she had a friend named Nick who lived in New York, but he wouldn't be her first choice, knowing that was where he'd look.
He tackled the stairs two at a time while she hit the door. He was almost close enough to grab her jacket. Just a few strides and he'd have her.
"Tessa."
The only evidence she'd heard from him was the uptick in speed as she hit the sidewalk and headed down Park Avenue. She weaved around the crush of pedestrians at a trot.
He'd closed the gap by the time she turned onto 59th Street. If she knew anything about the geography of the area, she'd head toward Central Park. He was gaining on her, and she knew it.
He overtook her at the park entrance, coming beside to keep pace. "Running isn't the answer." She twisted away from his touch and jogged into the park.
She ignored him, as well as the police officer who trotted past on a horse. Instead, she followed the path along the pond before she stopped and turned on him. He caught the elbow strike aimed at his neck, diverting it to the side. She wasn't playing. But neither was he.
She struck between his legs, but he skirted away at the last minute. This sparring match could go on indefinitely. "Tessa, I'm not the bad guy here." No wonder he couldn't figure out when someone was lying to him. He'd perfected the skill himself.
"Somebody ransacked my house and tried to kill me. I still don't know what your part is in that." Her breathe sounded labored as she scrutinized him.
"I work for The Alliance. I was hired to make sure you're safe."
"The Alliance. Pfft. You guys don't really exist. It's all smoke and mirrors."
He pounded his chest. "Feels pretty real to me." Overcoming her was doable, but not the right move if he wanted to gain her trust. This would be a waiting game. He inched closer.
"I'll start screaming if you don't back off."
"But you won't. The police would get involved, and that would cause all kinds of trouble for you." He'd called her bluff. Based on the sour expression on her face, she realized she'd backed herself into a corner.
Were the guys after her Russian, or was that her paranoia? Could they be a rogue CIA group wanting to exact revenge? Regardless of whoever was after her, they were gearing up for strike two. Right now they could be circling for the kill while the two of them engaged in a standoff in the middle of Central Park.
The bags beneath her eyes let him know she hadn't slept or probably eaten in a while. No doubt she'd been charged up by caffeine in the interim. It was only a matter of time before she collapsed.
Being out in the open like they were, even in the middle of the morning—even given the propensity of New Yorkers to turn a blind eye to trouble—was not a good way to fly under the radar. After twenty minutes of this, he was losing patience. He waited until she had her back to an area that was near the grass to tackle her.
After rolling around for a few minutes fighting for control, he pinned her to the ground with his thighs straddling her torso. If not for the shelter of the surrounding bushes and the lack of onlookers, someone might have flagged down a police officer.
"All right. I'll come with you." She acquiesced with a snarl.
"Now, was that so hard?"
"Actually, it was." She gave him the evil eye as he helped her to her feet.
"We've got to hope there weren't sixteen cameras capturing that moment and putting us on Good Morning America or some other show. Mystery man and woman wrestling in Central Park. Viewers help the police track them down."
"I forgot about the cameras."
"This place is wired, some spots more than others." He shook his head. "Let's get something to eat, and you can crash for a bit. It looks like you haven't slept in days."
"That's probably because I haven't had much sleep since Wednesday." She shrugged, signaling her defeat. "I'd go for days without sleep sometimes in the field, but this time I couldn't handle it."
"Nothing to be embarrassed about. After we figure this out, I won't stand in your way."
"You won't be the first man who's told me the same thing, then screwed me over, and not in a good way." With a cheeky smile, she trotted ahead of him.
Jake wasn't sure he had the ability to hang with a woman who had balls of steel for all that long.
* * *
Tessa couldn't think straight as he urged her down the street. She didn't know much about New York, but knew they were headed toward the Chelsea area, based on their direction. Even though he tried to hide his growing irritation, she could tell he was pissed, but she wasn't convinced it was directed at her.
She couldn't help but wonder if it was a personal problem—perhaps a fight with his girlfriend, or other such nonsense, that had him in such a snit. Then again, he didn't look like the girlfriend type. In fact, he looked more like the one-night-stand type, with his dark, sexy looks, highly toned physique, and boyish charm. Smooth moves never did work on her. She had to give him some credit for successfully capturing her without harming so much as a hair on her head. If it weren't for the nonstop ache in her shoulder, she'd be unscathed.
She shifted the backpack onto her good shoulder even while he kept a death grip on her arm. Based on this fiasco so far, she couldn't blame him for holding tight. "Could you let up on the arm, please?" She didn't think she had the energy for another attempt at running away, but couldn't dismiss the idea either, if given the opportunity.
"Not going to happen. Besides, we're almost to my place."
"Not unless you buy me dinner first." Her chuckle sounded a little maniacal. She must have gone stark raving mad because even to her own ears it sounded like she was flirting with him.
He barked out a laugh. "Strictly business. That's what I'm all about."
"So you say." She wanted to stop this silly banter, but found that her mouth wouldn't obey. Maybe, after being alone for so long since the incident, she'd latched on to him in some sick way as
a port in the storm, even if the idea seemed ludicrous. Her mother had raised her to be independent rather than clingy, but the last several days had played havoc with her psyche. Maybe it was all due to sleep deprivation.
"Are you kidding? Like I'd even close my eyes with you staying at my place. Can we call a truce so that you don't go all Krav Maga on me again?"
"Why would I agree?" She had to give him points for his persistence.
"Because you want me to help you stay alive. Going it alone doesn't make sense. I have skills that might be helpful."
"How do you know I'm searching for something?"
"I suspect you've always been."
She hated the fact he knew her so well even though he'd only met her hours ago. True, she always felt like there was a missing piece to her life. She'd attributed it to being raised by a single mother and not knowing her father. But what was happening to her felt more personal than that. She'd been targeted for some reason. And it had to go back to her memories of Afghanistan or that stupid note she'd found.
What had started this firestorm of trouble? She didn't want to think it was because she'd used her landline to call Nick, but the trouble had escalated since then.
Now she had this contract-for-hire guy complicating her life even further. Knowing who and when to trust had always been a source of anxiety for her. She'd tended to take the easy route on that, and always choose to trust no one. It wasn't a bad way to live her life.
But with Jake—if that was his real name—she didn't seem to have a whole lot of choice in the matter.
Yep, it sure did suck to be her right now.
CHAPTER FIVE
After fixing lunch, Jake spiked her coffee with some Tylenol PM. Even though she'd practically fallen asleep while eating, he couldn't trust her. Some lessons he had to learn the hard way, but maybe it had finally penetrated through his thick skull.
He secured the state-of-the-art alarm at his place that kept people out and—in her case—some people in. Next, he made a phone call to Jennings. He needed to brief him, as well as figure out if he knew what those guys from yesterday were about. If Jake believed her and dismissed the potential for paranoia, it seemed like they might have been stalking her for a couple of days.
