The weird twisting route of a road went up then down and finally curved until he found a different farm route. They passed a sign for Kentucky before he found what passed for a rest stop. Needing gas soon, he decided to pull off. Pilar kept trying to fade out on him, and he needed three things.

The first was to make sure she wasn’t more injured than she’d been acting. He had enough medical training that he could pinch hit, but if she needed more care, then they were going to need a hospital.

The second was something to eat. Vending machine food was probably the best they could hope for at the remote spot. Still, chemical cream filled cakes which could likely survive an apocalypse were better than nothing. The sugar kick would carry him until he found real food.

The third, but no less important—he needed to take a leak. Three bottles of water and coffee earlier, and his bladder was hating on him.

Checking their six, he found it wide open with no sign of their pursuers. Though she’d been quiet for a while, his sexy passenger with her cascades of dark hair and midnight eyes roused as he slowed the truck and turned in.

“What are you doing?” The husky tenor of her voice dipped as she pushed forward. With a wince and a groan, she let the seatbelt stop her and then her polished nails with their fancy designs appeared in his periphery as she gripped the seat.

“Bladder break. We need to stretch or we won’t be able to move.” All true. He needed to check his cell for signal, too. See if he could get ahold of a map, plot a course out of the mess. Keeping his attention split between the road and his driving meant he’d been driving blind, relying purely on instinct.

“Is that safe?” Genuine fear coiled between the syllables, then she sucked her upper lip between her teeth.

“You’re going to be just fine, sweetheart.” It was a promise. He needed a few more details to get the lay of the land and the enemy pursuing them, but they’d get there.

Keeping her concern in mind, he followed the lot of the rest area around until he could park behind the buildings. They weren’t much in the way of camouflage, but some cover was better than none. Putting the truck into park, he waited a beat. At the accident site, he’d heard another engine. Her pursuers had been close, but not in line of sight. They’d waited until after he took her out of the damaged car to make their move. Patience tempered by cunning kept things interesting, but he’d settle for boring being better as long as his charge was with him.

When he shut off the engine, everything went quiet. Even his passenger seemed to stop breathing. “Easy,” he told her. “Just take a deep breath and let it out slowly.” His pulse slowed as he deepened his own respiration. The click of her seatbelt, then the rustle of fabric on fabric as she slid over closer to him followed by the faintest pressure of her nails on his shoulder let him track her motion.

“We’re safe?”

“Position secure, at least for the moment. Let’s move.” He needed to piss like a racehorse. Pulling a holster from under his seat, he slid it on then snagged his jacket from the floor.

Ready, he holstered his weapon where he could pull it fast, then slid out of the truck. The movement pulled his back and suddenly his face throbbed all over again. Yeah, he would have a shiner and his muscles might protest, but they’d been through worse. Once out of the truck, he listened again before opening the back door for Pilar. He hadn’t seen more than farm vehicles in the past two hours. Now was as good a time as any.

Cutting a glance to Pilar, he paused to absorb the woman standing next to him. He hadn’t gotten a good look at her earlier, outside the cascade of night in the dead straight, long black hair and gorgeous eyes. Well to be fair, he’d also noticed the slick beauty of her full lips, and the shadows promising to be bruises around her nose and the abrasions on her cheeks.

The rest of her though—damn. A woman with curves like a country road, all dressed up in black slacks, a white top and covered by a black jacket. Smart. Refined. His gaze dipped to her feet. Three-inch heels. Sexy? Sure. Practical? Hell no.

“Got different shoes?”

The question seemed to startle her. “What’s wrong with these?”

“Can you run in them?” She had said trouble with a capital T. Capital letters often required running at some point.

Eyes narrowed, she tugged her purse out. The careful movements, the controlled breathing and barely suppressed winces all screamed pain. “We have a car.”

“Truck,” he said absently, then circled her to reach the storage box in the bed while keeping his head on a swivel. The dark metal matched the bed of the truck. After rubbing absently at score mark on the black metal, he flipped it open. He had some boots inside. They’d be big on her, but if she double socked, they’d work in a pinch.

Below his boots, however, were another pair that didn’t belong to him. Huh, they must have been Trudi’s. He’d been keeping an eye on her with Flint. His partner’s reporter girlfriend was a handful, but a practical one. Trading his for those, he thrust them toward Pilar.

“Try these.”

Bewilderment marred her expression. “These are Prada.”

“These are practical…or I could just break the heels off your shoes.” They really didn’t have time to argue about it. His suggestion galvanized her. As she stepped out of her shoes, he dropped the boots in front of her. They were work boots, had steel toes from the feel of it.

While she got them on, he kept watch and checked his truck. There was a dent on the hood and some impact damage on the side panels. Nothing he couldn’t hammer out, buff, then repaint. A bullet hole in the door would need repairing, and he found two more along the side.

Flipping out his utility knife, he checked to see if he could remove the bullet easily or not.

“What are you doing?”

“Just seeing if I can get the evidence. Might be useful. Besides,” he said, glancing at her as the smashed bullet popped out. “It’s a new truck.”

The corners of her mouth curved. “You mentioned.” She set her shoes back inside the truck, but her attention was on the front seat.

“Your gun is in the lock safe.” He eased by her and pulled it out. “Want it in your purse?” The baby Glock was pretty light, but it would be effective at close quarters. Not that he had any intention of letting someone get close enough for her to need it.

“Thank you.”

When he placed the weapon in her palm, he gave it a beat. Would she try to take advantage of the situation? Attempt to turn the tables? Not expecting someone stunning to be deadly or dangerous was usually the last mistake soldiers made, but he’d seen it all—women who stabbed in the back, both literally and figuratively—or who traded on whatever skills and talents they possessed. Ambushes using women and children, sometimes as fodder for the weapons or to put them at ease so they could strike while they were sleeping.

Cannon preferred not to get his throat slit or his head blown off.

Pilar closed her fingers around the weapon, careful to check the safety before she tucked it into her oversized bag.

Good, he liked to have his opinions of people proved, even if history said trust no one who wasn’t his brother in arms. “Let’s go.” He locked up the truck and guided her to the brick buildings.

The day had started off sunny enough but darkened gradually as clouds began to thicken. It would be sundown before too long, and a bite of chill in the air had the woman walking next to him shivering. At the door to the women’s bathroom, he opened the door first and checked inside before motioning her in. Lemon cleaner covered the musty scent, but it smelled better than most of the men’s bathrooms he’d ever been in. There were three stalls, so he pointed her to the farthest one from the entrance.

“Go ahead, I’ll use this one, then step out and watch the door.”

She hesitated at the door to the stall. “What?”

“Rule number one of any protection detail, you don’t get separated from the protectee, no matter what their sensibilities are. It’s a bathroom, the stalls give you privacy, but the men’s is on the other side of the building.” He made another shooing motion and her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. When no sound came out, he used both hands to wave her in. “Or you can keep standing there, and I’ll leave my door open while I take aim at the toilet from here.”

It wasn’t far. He’d make it.

The suggestion worked. The door slammed behind her and the rickety lock went into place. Satisfied, Cannon took care of business but didn’t close his stall. He needed to be able to keep an eye on the door. Once finished, he washed his hands and checked his face in the mirror.

Yeah, good thing Flint couldn’t see him. He’d give him no end of shit about the black eyes. Even plowing through the barn and destroying his last vehicle hadn’t left this many bruises.

Splashing some water on his face, he winced at the cold on the nose. Nothing to be done for it. Nothing was broken, and bruises healed. “I’ll be right outside,” he called.

“Fine,” came the strangled response, and Cannon couldn’t help but chuckle as he stepped out. She hadn’t made a single noise since slamming the door. Hopefully, with him outside, she could pee.

He did a visual scan of the area. His truck sat as a little battle weary, but still the only vehicle in the lot. No movement came from the woods around the place, and the road they’d been traveling on was quiet. Listening, he didn’t catch the sound of another car.

Good. The longer it took the pursuit to catch up, the more time he would have to prep for any possible assaults. Tugging his phone out of his back pocket, he checked the signal. No bars.

Damn. If he had a satellite phone, it wouldn’t matter. He’d left his with Flint and Trudi. Flint didn’t plan on leaving her for the foreseeable future, not until they were certain everyone involved in taking a hit out on her was out of the picture. Their business was on hold—or at least on hiatus—which was fine. Country and family first.

He checked the bars again. No bars, no way to call his mom and duck out of the obligatory visit. Since he was supposed to get there in roughly three hours, she’d assume he’d blown her off again.

Yeah, he could live with that. He’d just slid the phone in his pocket when the sound of an engine echoed toward him from the tree-lined corridor. The trees muffled sounds for people on the other side, but not for those within the area. The lack of other traffic made the sound stand out. Putting a hand on his gun, he kept one on the door handle and tracked for the direction traveled.

The white vehicle coming around the bend looked very familiar. Opening the door, he didn’t glance inside. “Get the gun out Pilar and stay in there until I get you.”

Her murmured affirmative was all he needed before he slipped away from the door and blended better against the other building. It gave him a shield as he tracked the car entering the lot. They made a beeline right for his truck.

After considering and discarding several scenarios, he strode up the path toward his truck. The white SUV pulled up right behind his truck as though planning to box him in. Sure, whatever worked for them.

A tall man with swarthy skin exited and circled the vehicle to meet him. Wearing a very unfriendly expression, he didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He already had a gun out. “Where is she?”

“Sorry?” Cannon canted his head to the side. The man moved with a limp, and there was scarring on the right side of his face, which also left his ear somewhat deformed looking. Maybe a bad burn? “I don’t speak asshole.”

Right on cue, pissed face lifted the gun to point at him with emphasis for each syllable. “No more games. Where is she?”

What was it with people and waving guns in his face? “Man, I’m telling you, I don’t speak asshole.” He reached for his pocket as though reaching for his keys, and the man took a step forward. The action put his weight on the unsteady leg. Taking control of the gun, he sent it upward even as he went low and struck that bad knee.

The man toppled, and Cannon pointed the gun at the man in the SUV, but he put his foot down and the car screamed out of the lot before he could get a good look at the driver—but not before it bumped the back of the truck.

“Oh man…” Cannon sighed. The vehicle was gone, roaring up the road the way they were headed. That could be a problem. Walking to the back of the truck, he sighed. White paint all over the bumper of his brand-new truck.

Dammit.

Pissed Face groaned and staggered to his feet. He lunged forward, and Cannon twisted, caught him and slammed him into the back of the truck. The man collapsed. “See…no dents. That’s how you do it.”

After putting the weapon away, he got some rope out of the storage locker. “It’s a new truck,” he informed Pissed Face as he secured his hands and feet, then lifted him in a fireman’s carry. He’d dump him in the men’s room with a closed for service sign. Let someone who worked for whatever county this was find him and call the cops.

Finished, he returned to the ladies room. “Come on, Pilar. Time to go.”

Though she didn’t want to admit it, the bathroom break was the best relief for her poor, bruised bladder. For her ego, though? No, she wasn’t feeling the love. Her face looked like she’d kissed the mat after one round with a championship boxer—or like the time she took a hockey puck to the face when she was a kid. The scrape on her face would likely get angrier over time. When she rinsed her mouth out, she managed to reopen the cut inside her lip.

Still, the stop also gave her time to go through purse and make sure she had everything. Necessities like hairbrush with requisite bands looped around the handle. She pulled her hair back and up. If she could have just covered half her face and hidden the bruises, she’d have gone for it. As it was, she wanted to keep it from tangling any more than it already was. Also, in the bag was a book, her wallet, a cell phone that had long since died as she’d forgotten her charger, and an old-style looking music cassette in a plastic case. Everything was intact, thankfully.

When he warned her to get her gun and stay inside, she’d forgotten how to breathe. But once outside, all she saw was the truck in the empty lot. “What happened?”

“Trouble passed through.” The ease of his tone didn’t do her heart rate any favors.

Jerking around, she studied their surroundings. Half-expecting to see men coming at them with guns, she frowned. No soldiers. No smoke. No bodies. Spinning back to face him, she blew out a breath. “Where are they?”

“Come on,” he said, pulling her around to his left side.

“But where are they?” When she would have stopped to look again—he caught her hand in his and pulled her along. He’d made her wait what? Five minutes? How could he have taken care her grandfather’s men so quickly?

“One is probably on the road looking for reinforcements or coming back to circle around, so we should go.” He got the passenger door and nudged her to climb up in his truck. Even in her heels, it would have been a climb. Suddenly his hands were on her waist, warm and firm. He lifted her up and she slid onto the seat and set the purse at her feet. “Buckle up,” he ordered before closing the door.

Her questions had to wait until he was behind the driver’s seat again. He pressed a button, and the car started right up. Keyless entry had always been a convenience, but keyless start? She had car envy.

“What happened to the others?”

“One other,” he said, backing out, and then putting the car into gear. It took no time at all to get back on the road, but instead of continuing the route they’d been following, he went directly across the grassy median.

Holding onto the oh shit handle for dear life, Pilar swallowed a scream. On the far side of the highway, he turned left and they were heading back the way they’d come.

“He’s unconscious in the men’s bathroom. When he wakes up face to face with the urinal cake, he’ll have plenty of time to rethink his life.” Wearing an unrepentant grin, Cannon tapped the steering wheel. “I forgot to hit the vending machine, but we’ll find food soon. There’s more water in the cargo box, so I can grab it out of there at the next stop. Jerky, too.”

Who was this guy? Pilar opened her mouth to demand an answer, then snapped it shut again. The guy was risking his life for her—after she slammed her car into his. Their whole new definition of crashing into you aside, she had nowhere else to go. The friends most capable of helping weren’t ones she could trust. Too many were on the family payroll.

Just like me…

“Don’t look like that,” Cannon said, the ease in his tone washing over her like warm rain, not comforting and yet soothing at the same time. “I’m not a big fan of traps, even the sloppy man gets lucky sometimes. There was an exit two miles back, another small road, but we can angle south and gradually east. We’ll make it back to West Virginia, maybe even Virginia.”

“Why there?” Even after the truck was back on solid pavement, she was unwilling to let go of the handle. Battered, shaken, and definitely stirred, she wanted nothing more than to be thousands of miles away, hidden in some grass shack on a beach where the hardest decision was what color umbrella would come in the drink.

“Friends.” A non-committal response.

“Weren’t you going the other way?” Not that he’d told her his destination.

“Changed my mind.” There it was again, the same unrepentant, devil-may-care grin. “I figure away from Trouble is where you were headed, and I did say I’d get you there.”

“You’re insane.” The words slipped out, regrettably, but she couldn’t dispute the facts. He had to be crazy.

“Hmm,” he said, seeming to roll the sound around in his mouth. Her uncle used to sample wine the same way, swirling it on his tongue and then seeming almost constipated before he pronounced whether the drink was worthy of consumption. Finally, Cannon scrunched his face in a gruesome and altogether fantastically adorable grimace. “Guilty, I’m afraid. Still, we got the truck and we’re alive. I call those solid marks in the win column.”

Pilar opened her mouth to dispute either as wins, at least not in a balance sheet when she had so many strikes in the loss column.

“At least if you add weight to survival, which I always do.” His follow-up remark silenced her. “There it is…” The comment pulled her attention in front of her as he slowed to take a right on a road she would never have noticed. This wasn’t like most highways or throughways she’d ever traveled. Some of the roads crossed it with only stop signs on their side. Of course, the lack of traffic would make that easy.

The new road was tiny and plunged them into darkness between thick trees. “Are you sure this is a road?” Leaning forward, she squinted as if it would make the trees back off and give her a better view.

“Well, road might be a generous term.” The dips and bumps in the cracked, faded, and resealed black top bounced them along. Fortunately, the truck seemed to have good shocks. “But it’s away from the main route and can buy us time to put some distance between us.”

Guilt nibbled at her conscience. This poor guy had been driving along, minding his own business. Now he was in the middle of her mess. “Maybe you should drop me off at the next gas station or truck stop we find. I can give you cash to cover the damage already done, and let you get back on the road to the trip that had to be better than this one.”

“I’ll tell you a secret,” he said, not missing a beat though his gaze never left the road. Which was good, because what light had been left seemed to vanish behind all the trees.

Where the hell were they driving? Narnia? Oz? Please don’t be Mordor. “You don’t have to confide in me. In fact, I’m not sure I have room in me for more secrets.” The last was a slip, and from the way he glanced at her, he’d caught it.

“You seem like the kind of gal who can handle what life throws at her.”

“Gal?” Every time she thought she had the guy pinned down, he threw her for a loop. Who said gal anymore? Didn’t it go out in somewhere in the last century? “Who are you?”

“A friend, and right now, you seem to need a friend. Don’t know who those guys are or where they are coming from. You don’t have to share, not yet anyway. That might change, but we’ll blow that bridge when we come to it.” With every syllable, he chipped away at her bottom line. The one that said she didn’t have any right to involve him, yet she had. The one detailing every mistake that put her on a collision course with danger, yet here she was. The one suggesting the best way out was to find a payphone and turn herself into her grandfather before anyone else got hurt.

“I do need a friend,” she blurted out, hating how needy she sounded. “But friends don’t put friends in the line of fire.”

“No, friends never leave a friend behind.” He reached over and took her hand. “I’ve got your back. When you’re ready to tell me what’s going on, you can. Until then, I’ll keep you alive. We good?”

The grip of his fingers over hers offered more than comfort, more than security—it was a promise she wasn’t alone, and God how she wanted to accept it. “Why?”

“People haven’t been nice to you, have they, sweetheart?” The warm timbre of his voice sent a shiver along her spine.

“Not particularly, no.” Hateful as it might be, she was used to people disappointing her, or worse, leading her on only to shatter the illusion at the worst possible moment.

“Well, fuck them.” Blunt, to the point of painful. “You keep your walls up and your weapons out. Still not making me walk away.”

“But…why?” No one was that nice. “No one goes out of their way for a complete stranger.”

The long-suffering sigh he released almost made her laugh, mostly because his smile didn’t falter. “Because we survived a fire fight together. That makes us pretty damn far from strangers.”

He had a point. “I’m overthinking all of this. I know I am. Doesn’t mean I can stop just because you say so.” Pilar squeezed his fingers. “It also means if you tell me all this only to lull me into trusting you, and it turns out to be a lie, I might be tempted to shoot you.”

With a light tug, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed one of her abraded knuckles. “Sweetheart, if it all turns out to be a lie, then you should definitely shoot me, not just be tempted by it.”

Dammit. The man’s charm had charm.

She laughed. “Deal.”