“I said,” she bit out evenly, “there’s no man involved.”
“I think you’re lying,” he stated baldly. “And given that
you’re
the one who made an agreement with the program you never had any intention of keeping, and that
you’re
the one who’s sneaking around after midnight to steal cars, I say
you’re
the one who can’t be trusted. Not me.”
“Damn you to hell,” she replied.
“Sweetheart,” he drawled, “if this evening is anything to go by, I’m already there. Now back to the house.”
She whirled away, her short hair whipping around to hide her face. And even as she cursed him a thousand times in her mind, she still felt the unexpected sting of unshed tears.
Because everything he’d said about her was true. Which meant he had every right to hate her. Every right to distrust her.
But no matter what, she vowed sharply as she marched to the house, she would never tell him the truth. She’d meant what she said. No one was worth trusting.
Not even the strong-armed, slow-kissing Mitch Guiness.
* * *
She awoke to the heart-stopping pressure of a black-gloved hand over her mouth. Automatically a scream rose to her lips, her eyes widening instinctively in fear.
“Shh,” came the low familiar voice next to her ear. She was allowed to turn her head enough to make out the black-shadowed shape of Mitch, crouched next to her bed. He looked at her with steady, grim eyes.
“We got problems,” he whispered quickly. “Now when I take away my hand, you’re not going to make any noise at all, okay?”
Dutifully, she nodded, her heart still pounding in her chest as all her nerves came to frantic attention. Her gaze swept to the nearby nightstand where the clock glowed 2:35 a.m. She’d only been asleep for an hour.
Mitch followed her gaze to the clock. At least she had a cool head; tonight he had a feeling all that icy control he hated so much was going to come in handy.
“Remember when I won the bet with the cards?” he reminded her softly, easing his grip. “And you agreed not to question my methods anymore?” She nodded. “Well, here’s the test, sweetheart. I want you to do exactly what I say when I say it. No questions, no complaints. I know you hate to trust, little Ice Angel, but this night you’re going to have to.”
His voice was so grim, she didn’t dare retort. Instead, her brown eyes luminous in the darkness, she once more nodded. He released his grip completely, quickly drawing back the covers as he motioned her up out of the bed. At once she felt the chill of the cold night penetrating her thin satin pajamas. She shivered unconsciously, her arms wrapping around herself for warmth.
Belatedly, she became aware of his eyes sweeping down her long, slender frame. He turned abruptly away, but she could see the tightness of his jaw betraying his tension. It left her at once breathless and afraid. She scrambled quickly out of the bed, reaching for the relative safety of her robe.
He stopped her with one hand, though, signaling no with a faint shake of his head.
“Clothes,” he breathed. “The warmest ones you can find.”
She nodded, her eyes falling to his grip on her wrist. It was firm and powerful, but not bruising. And when he withdrew his hand, the cold air felt suddenly sharper and lonelier. She shook the sensations away.
Moving expediently to the dresser, she tried to ignore the fact her body was in full view. She was fully covered, she reminded herself. The satin top and bottoms certainly revealed less than all those swimming suits she’d once posed in. But somehow, with his brown gaze following her every movement, she felt abruptly exposed, the satin too cool and smooth against her skin. Every movement had the pajamas swinging against her, revealing each gentle curve of her long, limber body. When she turned, she held the clothes against her chest like a feeble shield.
“Change in the corner,” he whispered curtly. “I’ll pack your things.”
She wanted to protest. Certainly she had no intention of undressing with this man just feet away. But the unrelenting set of his jaw told her words would be useless. And once again the sense of urgency washed through her. He’d said she couldn’t question him, and looking at his grim face, she thought she’d better obey. She crept to the corner, instinctively avoiding the boards she knew creaked. He nodded approvingly.
True to his word, he turned and gave her his back. For the first time, she became aware of the small black duffel bag he held in his left hand. Even as she watched, he opened the first drawer and casually withdrew a thin lacy bra, which he threw in with hardly a second glance. Her cheeks burned and she looked away. Well, if he could be so damn casual, she thought determinedly, so could she. Hastily she began to dress.
Mitch knew he had only to look up, and he would be able to see everything in the mirror before him. But a man could only take so much, and now certainly wasn’t the time to push his limits. Things were wrong, very wrong.
He’d only been asleep half an hour before the sensation had woken him. Four times before, he’d had the sensation, the spine-tingling, stomach-clenching certainty that something very bad was about to happen. The first time, he’d been a young boy climbing a tree. He’d been fighting the sensation when the tree branch broke, plunging him to the ground and breaking his arm and shoulder. The second time he’d paid more attention and walked out of an old barn right before the roof had collapsed.
Then, he’d had it fifteen minutes before he’d seen his partner shot down in cold blood, taking two hits himself. Finally, he’d had it when Liz’s husband had been brutally slain in front of Maddensfield’s tiny cinema. He’d found himself buying tickets and boarding a plane back home before he’d ever even heard the news.
He trusted his instincts, and tonight was no different. Especially when he’d checked Bill’s room and found no one. If all was going according to plan, Jamie should have relieved Bill over half an hour ago, and Bill should have been back in the house. Instead, he was nowhere to be found.
He grabbed a last sweater and thrust it into the bag. That ought to get them through at least one day. Hopefully by then they’d be in a position to buy whatever else they needed. Or so he hoped.
He glanced up then, catching Jess pulling her sweater down over her jeans. They were all set. But then, looking down, his eyes fell on a small crystal bottle of oil. He didn’t have to pick it up to know it probably smelled like peaches.
Did her lover like the smell? he found himself thinking savagely. She’d said she’d never worn it for Les. Maybe the unknown man had given it to her in some romantic tryst. So help him God, he wanted to hurt the man should they ever meet.
But even as he swore at himself and cursed Jess for her illicit lover that would probably kill them both, he found himself throwing the fragile bottle in the bag, as well. It would serve him right.
His face was dark and angry when he turned back around. He forced himself to take another calming breath. There would be plenty of time to be angry later. Now he had to get them out alive.
“Ready?” he asked. She nodded, and both their eyes moved in unison to the clock. It glowed 2:42. It had taken them seven minutes to become prepared, and in his mind, Mitch knew that was seven minutes too many.
“Follow me closely,” he said curtly, his voice hushed. “And for God’s sake, don’t make a sound.”
Once more she nodded, her face pale but set in the faint light. No screaming female here, he acknowledged grudgingly. There was something to be said for that.
Keeping her low and behind him, he crept from the room. The whole house was quiet, the deep abnormal type of quiet he’d learned to distrust. From far off came the faint click of the water heater turning on, and they both jumped. Mitch reached back a hand for her. Without questioning, Jess took it, folding her small, slightly trembling hand into his warm, solid grip. Down the stairs they went.
At the landing, he took out his gun and used it to lead them around the corner. But the entryway was empty, no sound giving anything away. Moving low and quickly, he half pulled her to a back door behind the stairs.
Jess shivered as the cold hit her, her hand tightening on Mitch’s grip. Then dimly she became aware of the fact she was in a garage, a garage housing a big black Blazer. In the back of her mind, she registered surprise at seeing the vehicle. No one had said anything about there being another car present. But there was no time to contemplate it further. Next thing she knew, Mitch was urging her inside the driver’s door. She clambered over to the passenger’s seat and he unceremoniously dumped the duffel bag in her lap.
“Head down,” he ordered. She ducked obediently.
Softly she could hear him counting under his breath.
“One, two, three.” And then in a flash of an instant, the Blazer roared to life, thrust into Drive and tore through the garage doors. Jess covered her ears at the sound of the impact, her gaze coming up enough to see wood fly by the windows.
The crash was followed by thundering cracks, and in a thin moment of clarity, Jess realized someone was shooting at them. Mitch’s head bounced down as a bullet slammed through the windshield, burying itself with a thud in the leather seat.
“Down,” he commanded again, though Jess was already huddled as low as possible. She turned out of the seat altogether, crouching with her back under the dashboard. It seemed the whole world had exploded into roaring engines, screaming rubber and booming guns. With a small curse, Mitch slammed the vehicle into Reverse, ripping it through a 180-degree turn, then gunning it forward once more. The back window shattered as two shots found their mark, and he could feel the sudden rush of chilling wind ripping through the cab.
Now if only they didn’t hit the fuel tank, he thought grimly, slamming the gas pedal to the floor. He practically flew over the bumpy gravel-encrusted road, the vehicle hitting eighty miles an hour before he threw it around a sharp turn. A straightaway opened up before him, and he throttled the Blazer to a hundred miles per hour, but not before seeing two gray sedans rip around the corner behind him.
He found himself smiling. Sedans. The damn fools.
He slowed slightly for the second corner, but even then the vehicle rocked briefly onto its side and he had to fight for control. At least there were chains on the tires or he most likely would have lost it altogether. He spared one glance for Jess, still hunkered down under the dashboard. Her face was pale, but composed. He nodded at her in grim admiration, and she silently nodded back.
Then he abruptly swung the wheel left, and swerved off the road altogether. The Blazer hit a solid bump, and for a brief moment was airborne, then landed with a jolting crash guaranteed to require ten years’ worth of chiropractic. Jess was slammed against the right side from the impact and she winced. But she didn’t cry out loud, realizing Mitch needed all his attention for the snowy, tree-studded terrain.
Glancing back, Mitch saw both of the vehicles make the turn. The first vehicle, however, wasn’t so lucky in its landing. The lower-sitting sedan hit hard, the hood flying up from impact. Blinded, the driver swerved only to hit one of the numerous trees now surrounding them. The second car barely made it around the first, only to find itself zigzagging through the forest to keep up with Mitch.
To his left, Mitch saw a sharp incline and, without a second thought, he drove straight for it. The Blazer’s four-wheel drive could handle a lot more than some luxury sedan—he was willing to bet his life on it.
He slammed on the brakes abruptly, realizing if he hit the incline at this speed he’d simply roll the vehicle. Once more Jess slammed against the floor, and this time two more shots were fired as the sedan gained on them.
But then with a grim look of determination, Mitch plunged the Blazer up the hill, gunning the engine as he slammed it down into low gear. There was an agonizing moment as the wheels spun, searching for traction in the slick, winter snow. Then the chains dug in, and the Blazer surged upward.
More shots rang out, followed almost immediately by the sharp sound of crashing metal. Looking into the rearview mirror, Mitch caught the disappearing sight of the second sedan flipping over and rolling down the hill. He grinned an unpleasant grin.
Next time, they’d learn to adapt to their surroundings.
But then he instantly sobered. Of course, there would be a next time.
He slowed down as the Blazer crested the hill. He had only the faintest idea where they were, and it would take some doing before they hit a main road. Not to mention the fact that the Blazer left tracks as clear as a landing strip. They’d have to move fast to keep one step ahead.
They came out of the woods to what looked to be the local route. He angled the vehicle to the north, drove half a mile, then swung a careful 180-degree turn that headed them south without leaving any signs of tracks along the road. Satisfied now that all signs indicated they’d gone north, he drove them towards their true direction.
Glancing over, he watched Jess gingerly climb back onto the seat. Her face grimaced slightly as she moved, and he imagined she’d gotten more than a few bruises from the ride.
“First class just isn’t what it used to be, is it?” he said wryly, weaving in and out of the trees.
She merely looked at him. “They’re gone?”
“For now.”
She nodded. The air was blowing like a fan through the holes in the front windshield and the missing back window. She could see her breath when she breathed, and already goose bumps were racing up and down her arms. She huddled, conserving what body heat she had.
“I think there’s a blanket in the back,” Mitch said softly. She glanced over the seat, and after a bit of exploring, pulled out a green army blanket. She spread it out over both of their laps, earning herself a sharp look.
“You can have it all,” he told her curtly. “I’ll be fine.”
“I haven’t argued with you all night,” she pointed out levelly. “So maybe you could reward me by just giving me this one.”
He grinned suddenly, liking her backbone. Even half-frozen, shot at and bruised, she remained thinking on her feet. She was definitely something else.