Authors: Ginna Gray
"Hey! Watch it, buddy!" a man shouted when Max slammed into him.
Without sparing him so much as a glance, Max shouldered his way past. As Erin was tugged by, her purse slapped the man in the side.
"Hey!"
They skirted around an elderly woman pulling a two-wheeled shopping cart and pushed their way through three sailors walking abreast.
More angry shouts followed, but Max didn't slacken the pace.
Behind them tires squealed and horns honked. Max glanced back over his shoulder and cursed under his breath as he saw a dark blue Camaro, across the street from the bus station, pull away from the curb. Forcing his way into the traffic, the driver made a sharp U-turn, tires screaming, and headed in their direction.
Max poured on another burst of speed, and behind him Erin let out a wail.
The signal light was red when they reached the intersection. Max slowed just enough to gauge the traffic before dashing out into the street. With his arm around Erin's waist he held her against his side and turned and twisted and darted among whizzing cars and trucks, drawing shouts of abuse and angry horn blasts.
The light turned green as they reached the far curb. He grabbed Erin's hand again and kept going. They were halfway down the block when, from the corner of his eye, Max saw the Camaro draw alongside them in the center lane. The car slowed, and Max cursed. His eyes darted frantically around for cover while his feet pounded the sidewalk. They were not in the best part of town, and the rundown buildings they passed did not offer much hope. Inside they could be cornered. But there was nowhere else to go.
He was on the verge of shoving Erin to the ground and throwing himself on top of her when a bus pulled into the inside lane, blocking the blue car from view. Max ran for all he was worth, straining to keep the barrier between them and the two men in the Camaro, but the long silver bus steadily eased ahead.
The traffic light at the next intersection turned red, and the bus began to slow. Glancing back, Max saw that cars were stacked up four deep behind the bus in both lanes. He skidded to a stop and reversed directions.
"M-Max! What... are you... doing?" Erin panted.
He didn't waste his breath on a reply but pounded back the way they had come. His lungs were on fire, and his heart felt as though it were about to burst, but he didn't slacken his speed.
Erin stumbled and jerked back on his arm. "Max, wait! I've g-got a s-stitch."
He tightened his hold on her hand and kept going. They made another death-defying dash across the street and raced back around some of the same people they'd passed only moments before. Behind them they heard wild honking, and Max made a quick calculation. Until the light changed the Camaro wasn't going anywhere, and when it did it would still have to circle the block. With luck, they would make it.
"Max! Please!" Erin cried. She stumbled, and her knees hit the sidewalk. Max dragged her a few steps, then scooped her up and half carried her clamped against his side.
When they reached the bus terminal he burst through the doors and tore through the lobby, weaving in and out among the milling crowd, bumping into people and sending luggage flying. He spotted a bus getting ready to pull out, and he shouldered their way past a portly man and out the door.
"Stop! Hold it! Wait for us!" Max shouted. Racing alongside the rolling bus, he banged on the door with Erin's suitcase, and after a few seconds the air brakes hissed.
"You folks almost didn't make it," the driver said when the door swished open.
Max tossed Erin's bag inside, then jumped aboard, hefting her with him.
Standing on the bottom step in the well, he eased her down on the one just above him, then straightened to face the driver, his chest heaving. "We don't have, .tickets," he gasped out. "But I'll give you...fifty bucks to let us...ride with you for a mile."
The driver looked startled, then dubious. "Well, I don't know," he said doubtfully, but Max saw the calculating gleam in his eye as he glanced back at his passengers.
"Okay...make it...a hundred." Max pulled out his wallet, removed several bills and held them out to the man, fanned out so that he could see each one. "One hundred dollars for... one mile. That's all we ask."
The driver stared at the money, then at Max. He hesitated only a second longer before snatching the bills from his hand and stuffing them into his shirt pocket. "Okay, you got a deal."
"Good," Max replied tersely. "Now shut this door, and get the hell out of here."
As they pulled out of the terminal Max crouched down in the stairwell in front of Erin. She sat bent over, clutching her side, sucking in deep gulps of air. Max touched her hair and laid his hand against her neck. "Are you all right?"
She looked up at him. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine," she managed shakily as her labored breathing began to slow. "Just winded."
It wasn't the truth, and Max knew it. His worried gaze ran over her. The scratch on her face was caked with dried blood, and more was smeared up under her eye. Her slacks were dirty and torn from her fall, revealing two badly skinned knees, and the palm of one hand was abraded and red, with little bits of grit embedded in the angry flesh. But even more than her physical injuries, Max was concerned about her emotional state. He could feel her shaking, and now that the flush of exertion was beginning to fade, her complexion was whiter than before, almost pasty. Sweat-dampened curls clung to her pale face, and her brown eyes were huge with barely restrained panic.
It was the latter that tore at his heart. Fury moved through Max. Whoever had done this to her was going to pay, he vowed.
No, she was far from fine. Max cursed silently, resisting the urge to take her in his arms. She was hurt and frightened and exhausted, but dammit, at the moment there wasn't time to deal with any of those things. First he had to get her away from there, to someplace safe.
Gritting his teeth, Max gave her shoulder a squeeze and straightened up slightly. The bus stopped at the corner and waited for the light to change. From a half-crouched position, Max peered through the windshield. Scanning the street that ran in front of the station, he spotted the Camaro cruising toward them, not twenty feet away.
He ducked and went rigid, waiting. Hell! Had they seen him?
"What is it? What's wrong?" Erin grabbed his arm and started to rise.
Max shoved her back down and held his hand on her shoulder. "Sit still," he commanded in a rough whisper. "Don't move. The last thing we need is for them to get a glimpse of that red hair."
Erin's eyes went wide. She stared at him like a trapped fawn, and beneath his hand he felt her trembling increase, but to her credit, she clamped her lips together and said nothing.
The driver gave them a sharp look, which Max ignored. He held Erin's hand in a tight grip and waited, tensed and braced, expecting to hear someone bang on the door at his back at any moment.
Instead, the driver swung the bus out into the street, turning in the opposite direction from the blue Camaro. Max held Erin's gaze and waited, but after a while he slumped back against the door, all the air rushing out of him. Until that moment he hadn't even known he'd been holding his breath.
"Do you think they saw us?" Erin asked, looking at him hopefully.
"I don't think so. But they may figure it out. Sit tight. I'm going to have a look."
Max climbed past her into the aisle and made his way to the back of the bus, ignoring the curious glances of the other passengers. He bent over and looked out the rear window, and his mouth curved in a tight, satisfied smile.
The blue car was still going in the opposite direction at the same slow speed.
It didn't take long to go a mile, but to Max's relief, the driver took a winding route out of the city, making several turns before stopping to let them off.
When the bus pulled away from the curb, Erin gazed after it longingly, the brief sense of victory she felt fading. Panic fluttered in her chest. Determined not to give in to it, she squared her shoulders and looked around.
The driver had deposited them on a quiet corner of a hilly street in what appeared to be a prosperous area of town. The buildings were old but well cared for, many of red brick with crisp white trim. Farther up the hill the street was lined with tall, narrow Victorian houses. The general appearance was orderly, sedate and affluent.
"Well, at least this is a better neighborhood," Erin said with a halfhearted attempt at a smile.
"Yeah, but not necessarily safer." Max looked around, frowning. He took her elbow and started to lead her down the hill, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings.
A block away they heard a trolley bell, and at the next intersection they turned the corner and saw the car rumbling away. "C'mon, let's catch it," Max said, urging her into a trot. "I feel like a sitting duck out here on the street."
After the footrace they had just run, Erin barely had enough energy to move, and by the time they hopped onto the trolley she was drained. Breathing hard, she collapsed on the center seat, and when Max put his arm around her and pulled her against him she went willingly, resting her head on his shoulder with a sigh.
The lady opposite them stared. Her expression grew wary and slightly appalled as she took in Erin's skinned knees, scratched face and torn, dirt-smeared clothing. Too exhausted to care, Erin ignored her. She leaned against Max and let her mind go blank. For the moment she was simply grateful to be alive.
Max massaged her shoulder, his hand rotating in slow, soothing circles, but when Erin glanced up at him she saw that his face was set, his eyes hard and piercing. Swiveling his head back and forth, he scanned the traffic around them constantly.
His vigilance reminded Erin that they were far from safe. Whoever had shot at them—or more precisely, at her—was still out there somewhere, searching for her at that very moment.
Erin pulled away from Max and sat up straight. Her worried gaze met his, then joined in the surveillance.
They rode in silence, the proximity of the other passengers making it impossible to discuss what had happened, but every now and then their eyes met and held. Though Max's gaze reflected the same worry and anxiety she was feeling, she also saw reassurance and solid strength there, both of which she sorely needed.
The trolley steadily put more distance between them and the bus station, but after a while the aimless riding began to grate on Erin's overwrought nerves. Finally she could take it no longer. Leaning close to Max, she muttered, "Max, we can't ride this thing forever."
"I know."
"Well, what are we going to do?"
The bell clanged, and the trolley slowed. Max made a quick search of the street. Grabbing her hand and the suitcase, he stood up and pulled her along with him. "We're going to get the hell out of here."
They had no sooner hopped off the trolley than Max flagged down a taxi and bundled Erin inside.
"Take us to the St. Francis Hotel," he instructed the driver as he climbed in after her.
Erin looked at him sharply. "Why are we going there? We need to get out of this town."
"We're going to. But those guys are probably watching the airport, so we can't risk going there. And we can forget taking the bus. That leaves only a car. We can rent one at the hotel."
"Oh, I see."
"And while we're there we're going to check in to get a few hours' rest."
"What?" She looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. "Max, we can't do that! We still have to find Elise!"
"I know. And we will. But, dammit, Erin, neither of us is in any condition to go on. We're both about ready to drop. For the past couple of hours we've been running on adrenaline and willpower."
"But Elise—"
"Has to rest sometime, too," he finished for her.
Erin's face remained stubborn. Raking a hand through his hair, Max looked away, then back again. His expression held both understanding and exasperation. "All right, I'll make a deal with you. It's—" he glanced at his watch "—almost eleven. We'll get a room, sleep until about six, then drive as far as Bakersfield."
"Why not Las Vegas?"
"Because it's too far. Even if we had the energy to make the drive, which I doubt, we'd arrive in the wee hours. This way we can get some rest, then get up early tomorrow morning and be in Las Vegas before ten."
Erin looked at him resentfully, knowing he was right but hating the thought of delaying the search so much as an hour. She was terrified—and she had Max with her. Imagining what her twin must be going through, all alone, with no one to turn to, made her cringe.
Still, she had no choice. All the will in the world wouldn't take her bruised and battered body much farther. She ached to the marrow of her bones, her eyes burned and her head felt like a fifty-pound block sitting on her shoulders. Seven hours wouldn't be nearly enough, nor would seventeen. The way she felt, she could probably sleep around the clock.
"All right. We'll do it your way," she agreed with weary reluctance. "Except we'll get two rooms, not one."
Max gave a snort of laughter, but when he spoke there was steel in his voice. "Forget it, sweetheart. After two attempts on your life, I'm not letting you out of my sight for a minute. Anyway, if it's your virtue you're worried about, you can rest easy. I'm too beat to seduce you."