Shane was going to scrub the word relax and the phrase I think you’re overreacting from his vocabulary. If he heard either pass Lacey’s lips one more time...

She sighed and turned toward him. The wind caught strands of her hair, whipping them back along her cheek.

After a nearly fifteen-minute fight with the downed tree, they’d made it to the main road with only a few brief stops. The lane leading to the house was more or less cleared after that. The others had followed them out, making straight for Montego Bay.

Lacey didn’t fully understand the danger of their situation. Somehow she’d traveled the world without too much danger until now, which left her unprepared to deal with what was on the line: their lives.

People like Marcos would kill for a paycheck. He was a mercenary, plain and simple. It just so happened that, as of late, he’d been in the business of living people instead of dead ones. Shane had no such illusions about their longevity should any of them—besides Aanya and Dev—fall into their hands. Most of all Lacey, if Marcos ever found out about the video.

“Why are we back in Ochi?” Lacey frowned at the all too familiar streets.

“We’re getting on the A1 and heading for Kingston.” The bustling city wasn’t a good stopping point for them, but it would allow for them to lose a tail before striking out for the airport.

“Isn’t there another way?” Lacey’s voice was strained, tense. No doubt she would prefer to forget her time spent in Ochi Rios.

He didn’t have the heart to tell her this was intentional.

If anyone was watching the house and saw them leave, they’d follow Shane and Lacey. Hopefully. It was a gamble of a move when they didn’t have a lot of options left to them.

“Why not just...go for the airport?” she asked.

“Marcos has paid off the police. He might have called in favors. There could be people waiting for us at the airport. Besides, we can’t fly out ‘til tomorrow. Might as well lead them on.”

“I take it you’re good at that.” She turned her head, dismissing him.

Shane bit his tongue. Again.

Engaging with Lacey meant butting heads with her. He’d made a mistake giving in and kissing her. Excusing his actions on the basis that she aroused his protective instincts was not going to work. Besides, he was fairly certain that Lacey would rebuff any gesture of help. She was too independent for her own good. She hadn’t yet been faced with her own mortality to really appreciate what she had.

Unlike Shane who, not that long ago, held his friend in his arms as he gasped for breath, blood pumping out. Cisco could have died. Shane had lost too many people to count over the years. He knew very well just how fast a light could be snuffed out.

Lacey muttered something he couldn’t make out.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Whatever you want to say, spit it out. You’ve clearly got something on your mind.”

“Must be tough, never finishing what you start.”

“You’re still pissed about yesterday.” He’d avoided this subject, because he had no defense. No excuse. He’d done what he did, and it had been wrong. End of story.

“Yesterday? What happened yesterday?” She blinked at him, that innocent routine so believable he had to do a double take.

He almost missed the SUV making the same turn they did.

“Shit. We’ve got a tail.” Shane glanced behind them then adjusted his mirror. “Looks like two guys—maybe more. They ain’t local.”

“What?” Lacey twisted to stare out the back window, her slack-jawed shock only a little satisfying.

“Hold on.” He laid on his horn and passed the van ahead of him.

Drivers in Jamaica were fearless, honked a lot, and didn’t know what real speed was like.

“Holy shit!” Lacey braced her hands and feet to keep from getting thrown around. The seatbelt only did so much.

Shane pushed the truck, weaving through traffic. Several people made threatening gestures but they weren’t the ones he was worried about. The SUV trailed behind them a bit, but remained within sight.

“What do we do?” Lacey twisted again. “What do we do, Shane? I recognize them.”

“Hold on and stay out of the mirror.” He needed all his tools to drive.

He took a right, a left and another right, doing a bit of a loop before hitting on the road north toward Kingston. Once they got on the A1 it would be hard to truly get away from the other vehicle. They didn’t want to get caught, merely draw the attention away from the other driver.

Shane whizzed past a stopped police car.

Crap.

At the first opportunity to turn off the north bound road, he took it, bouncing over a majorly washed out and damaged street.

The SUV turned after them, followed by the police cruiser.

Well, at least they knew for certain the SUV was following them, not that he’d had much doubt.

The police cruiser, well, Shane didn’t want to take many risks.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Lacey’s high-pitched voice was tense.

“No.”

He turned right at the next opportunity onto an old, barely-paved road. A few branches littered the path. He drove over them with no regard for the vehicle.

Lacey clawed at her seatbelt, unfastening it.

“What are you doing?” She wasn’t going to jump ship, was she?

“Keep driving.”

“Lacey—”

She turned and shimmied over the front seat into the back, and through the rear window.

He kept his eyes on the road, though her wiggling ass might have otherwise been an entertaining visual.

The truck bounced over the potholes. They passed homes, small shops, people looking on.

Lacey made it into the truck bed.

The SUV was a hell of a lot closer.

“What the hell are you doing?” Shane muttered to himself.

She grabbed the cords lacing the five gallon bucket of water and her former collar to the side of the truck.

Oh...

Shane slowed, focusing on finding the smoother path.

The SUV neared.

Lacey crouched in the bed of the truck and hefted the bucket.

The dirty white bucket made a perfect arc, hitting the place where windshield and hood met. The weight of the water plus gravity destroyed the windshield, cracking it into an opaque wall of glass.

All at once, the bucket exploded, sending plastic and water in all directions.

Lacey hit the truck bed, flattening herself.

Shane rammed his foot down against the floorboard and the truck shot forward. He took a left, careening nearly out of control, then promptly another left, the SUV and police car nowhere in sight.

They had to find a place to hide. Marcos’ men knew this truck and now they knew what direction they were headed. If Shane’s guess was right, and they had contacts within the police, they were in some real hot water.

Shane proceeded for about half an hour along the old country road, bumping along northward. Lacey remained sprawled in the back of the truck, her arms and feet braced against the sides.

He turned the truck off the road, driving it between trees and around brush until the street was a memory.

“What are you doing?” Lacey hollered up at him.

Shane shifted the truck into park and killed the engine. That done, he slid out, glad to see that the ground wasn’t all that soggy. He circled to the tailgate and braced his hands against the pickup, looking down on Lacey.

Sweat dampened her brow, her hair stuck in every which way, her dark eyes were wide, her skin pink—and she was alive.

She sat up, breathing as though she’d run every kilometer they’d just traversed.

“Why’d we stop?” she asked.

“They’re going to be looking for us,” he said.

“Wasn’t that the point?”

“Yeah, but we don’t want to lead them straight to the others.” He’d given this some thought, and she might not like it, but it was a sound plan.

“Okay...”

“We spend the rest of our daylight hours hiding out, laying low. Tonight, when it’s harder to make out the truck, we point our nose to Montego Bay.”

Lacey licked her lips.

“We’ve got some provisions in the back seat, just in case.” He nodded at the cab.

“The bucket. It exploded, didn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Lacey blinked at him, then the tailgate.

She’d lived weeks collared and afraid. Now they knew that Marcos hadn’t been fooling her.

Shane let the tailgate down and reached for Lacey. She took his hand. He grabbed her by the knee and dragged her to him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burying her face against his chest, muting that first sob.

For all her ballsy, independence, she was still human, something that was hard to remember. He stroked her back, but kept his words to himself. She might not be their clients, but he’d make damn sure she got home safe and sound. No one deserved what she’d been put through, and he’d kill the person who tried to put another of those collars on her himself.

Lacey focused on inspecting the food their host had packed. Ever since she’d let go of Shane after her adrenaline-fueled crying binge she hadn’t been able to look at him. It seemed like they were either at each other’s throats or about to claw their clothes off—there was no in between.

“Looking for something?” Shane leaned against the open door, his big body blocking out what sunlight there was struggling to get through the clouds and tree canopy.

“Just seeing what we have,” she said.

“I got us a bit of a blind built, so we should be good for a while.”

Lacey steeled herself and turned to face him. For some reason she couldn’t explain, her whole being felt raw.

He stared back at her, the muscle at his jaw twitching and his gaze just as intense as always. Did he ever do something half assed? She didn’t think so. It must be exhausting to be around him, always succeeding, doing his best.

Isaac said Shane had gone through something. If he had, she couldn’t tell.

“What do we have for lunch?” he spoke slowly, his tone lighter, at total odds with the rest of his body.

“Not much, but this’ll do.” She pulled out some snacks, offering him the bag.

He took the crackers and jerky, opening it and offering it to her first. She accepted the food though it wasn’t what she really wanted. If she had her way, she’d curl into a ball and wait for things to get better. Time and experience had taught her that was a poor way of dealing with her problems.

At times like these, the greatest thing she could do to help was eat. If she didn’t eat, she would be weak. If she was weak, she couldn’t contribute. If she couldn’t contribute, she would be dead weight, and why would anyone pull her along?

Lacey popped the bite in her mouth and stared off over Shane’s shoulder, refusing to meet his gaze. She’d been a big girl for a few minutes, now she could play the avoidance game. Whatever it was between them, she wasn’t going to fix it. Couldn’t. She didn’t know how to deal with a man like Shane.

Isaac? She’d met a dozen of him. She knew what he wanted, how he ticked. He didn’t interest her much. But Shane? His type didn’t run in her circles. They weren’t the adventurous, world-traveling sort. He was military through and through. He fascinated and scared her with his intensity, what he seemed to want.

She, on the other hand, was wild. Untamed. That’s what her sister always called her, just before rolling her eyes. The wild child.

Lacey didn’t mind the word. Yes, she was wild and she lived her life without care for belongings or attachments beyond her next trip. Her family didn’t understand her free spirit and likely never would.

“You like coconuts?”

“What?” She blinked at him.

“Coconuts. Do you like them?” Shane was trying awfully hard to be nice to her.

“Yes?” She peered up at him.

“I found a tree over there. Didn’t realize it was a coconut at first.” Shane reached up and took something off the roof of the truck, and presented her with a green, hairless coconut.

“Jamaican coconuts don’t look like what they sell in stores.” Lacey took it, contemplating the bounty.

“Here, hold it, and I’ll cut it open.” Shane pulled out a long knife from his boot.

She grasped it, and he carefully sliced a hole into the top of the fruit.

Coconut water wasn’t her favorite beverage, but beggars couldn’t be picky. Given what they’d just gone through, she was willing to do a little irresponsible self care.

She opened the glove box and pulled out a small bottle of Appleton Estate Signature Rum someone had left behind. She unscrewed the lid and poured what was left of the bottle straight into the fruit.

“What—Lacey.” Shane shook his head.

“Please don’t tell me you’re opposed to a stiff drink?” She could only handle so much, and she’d officially reached her limit.

Shane pressed his lips together, swallowing whatever protest he’d been about to voice.

“Not at all. Ladies first.” He gestured to the communal fruit.

Don’t mind if I do...

She’d thought about swigging the rum straight, but even this as a mixer was better. Appleton had a deliciously smooth taste when combined with something else. It was dangerous and popular with tourists.

All the better for curing her wonky mood.

She sipped the nutty mixture. Not something she’d order, but right now it would do.

Lacey offered it to Shane, who once more shook his head. Maybe she’d worn him down finally and he was accepting her for who and what she was, because he took the coconut from her.

“How is it?” He sniffed the drink.

“Not terrible. It’s not as warm as you’d think.”

Shane saluted her, then took a gulp. His shoulders jolted, no doubt from the alcohol hitting his taste buds. There might be more rum than coconut water in the mix. He shook his head and handed the fruit back to her.

“That’s strong. Be careful.”

“I don’t intend to throw anymore explosives around, if that’s what you mean.”

“Yeah, let’s talk about that.” His gaze narrowed. “Don’t do anything like that ever again, okay?”

“But—”

“There was no reason to risk your life like that, Lacey. What’d happened if they detonated it with you right on top of it?” He shook his head and bit his lip as though he were holding words back.

“I was trying to help.” Shit. Could she do nothing right?

“I know, and thank you. You’ve done nothing but pitch in and help, even when you didn’t have to. But—please—let me do my job from here on out.” His hand settled on her knee, squeezing it gently. “Lacey, please?”

“Okay, fine, yes.” She turned her head and found it hard to breathe. Was it more humid? Had they missed the memo on more rain?

“I’m only asking because I don’t want to see you hurt. That’s why we are here, so you don’t have to do anything else. You’ve done enough.”

“Yeah, but no one hired you to come save me.” Her gaze slid toward his, the painful truth stabbing her between the ribs.

“Not everyone knows about us.”

“My family wouldn’t pay anyone to get me back. They can’t afford that, and even if they could, they probably think I deserve this. That I need to be taught a lesson.”

“This one’s on us.”

“Why?”

“Why—what?”

“Why rescue me?”

“You were being held against your will. It was the right thing to do.”

“Do you always do the right thing?”

“I try to.” He stared at her mouth a moment, then blinked. Shane pushed off the truck and took a step back. “It’d be cooler sitting on the tailgate.”

The inside of the truck was stuffy, even with the door open.

Lacey slid out, cradling the coconut between her hands, and followed Shane around to the rear of the truck.

“Did you put bug spray on lately?” he asked.

“Yeah. Want another drink?”

“Sure.”

They sat in silence, passing the rum and coconut back and forth until it was gone. Shane cut the fruit in half and gave her one side and his knife. She carved chunks out, nibbling on the fresh meat, for lack of anything better to eat.

“What’s bothering you?” Shane asked after a stretch of silence.

“It’s funny. I know my parents don’t like my lifestyle. They wish I’d settle down, go back to school or get a regular job. It doesn’t bother me most of the time, but every now and then it does. Like now. I mean, I knew they wouldn’t pay the ransom for me. They don’t have that. Even my sister doesn’t have that. But...I don’t know. I got to talk to them once and...it just seemed like they were more annoyed than worried. Like, there goes Lacey, getting into her wild trouble again.”

“Stress does things to people. They’re probably worried about you.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Lacey tipped her head back and stared up at the trees. “Why did you kiss me and then walk away?”

Shane muttered something under his breath.

“Was it me?” She was reasonably certain it was. Nothing else made sense.

“No.” He seemed to growl the word. “You’re a client. You’ve been through a lot. The last thing you need or deserve is me pawing at you.”

“I did kiss you first, remember?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Is it a company rule?”

“No...”

“No?” She peered at him. “There’s more to it than that?”

Shane slid off the tailgate and turned his back on her, only to pivot around. Whatever the answer was, he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Some guys sleep with clients, yeah. They say they’re comforting them, or playing into the fantasy some have of boning their bodyguard. Are we supposed to? Technically, no.” He braced a hand on the truck next to her knee.

“It really bothers you, doesn’t it?” Now, why did that fact make him just a tiny bit more attractive?

“We’re here to protect, that’s it.” He pinned her with that soul-deep stare.

“Is that why you and Isaac were at each other’s throats?” She shifted, annoyed with herself for letting him under her skin. It had to be the rum making her insides all warm and squishy.

“Yes. He’s one of the worst offenders.”

“Isaac said there was an accident that you feel responsible for. Did that have something to do with sleeping with a client?”

The color leeched out of Shane’s face.

“Who told you that?” he asked.

“Isaac said—”

“No one slept with anyone. I fucked up. Me, okay? And our friend took a bullet for it.”

“I’m sorry.” Lacey swallowed.

“That’s why we have to follow orders. When we don’t, mistakes happen, people fuck up, and someone gets hurt.”

“I see.”

“What? No come back?” His brows rose.

“No.” She chuckled and crossed one leg over the other. Okay, so the warmth was a bit more than just her insides. Damn him. He was kind of sexy when he let down that wall. His stony exterior hid someone who cared, who was passionate about what he did. That was someone she wanted to get to know, not his polite mask of a man.

“Who are you and what have you done with Lacey?” He frowned.

“I understand your reasoning better, and won’t bug you about it again. There, happy?”

“Why do I get the feeling I just walked into a trap?”

“No trap. I understand your...moral anchor better. And I’m sorry about your friend.”

“You’ve poked and prodded at every turn. Why stop now?”

“I do not!”

“Do, too.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Just calm down,” he parroted at her.

“I don’t sound like that.” She jabbed her finger at him.

He wrapped his hand around her finger and gently placed her hand in her lap. The gesture brought him close enough that she got the slightest smell of soap on his skin.

God, she wanted to kiss him...