CHAPTER SIX
Something felt wrong when he entered the store. His honed instincts flared. He knew it, feeling the tingle of expectation, and he was right. The clerk eyed him with more than a hint of curiosity. A hesitation. Winters always caused a little apprehension, but there was more to it. An alarmed awareness. He failed to act on his gut feeling—that intuition of danger ahead and to get in gear. He was off his game.
Few routes existed from Louisville to Northern Virginia. He chose Interstate 64 East. Safe, fast, and apparently predictable. It took them through the middle of nowhere into the Appalachian Mountains before returning to the buzz of DC’s outskirts.
He pulled out his cell after returning the Glock to its holster. Two bars of service. Not bad.
The phone rang once before Jared picked up.
“What’s your problem now? Let me guess. The lady landed one of her kicks.” Jared laughed.
“Screw you. We had a snatch and grab. I have the package but lost the lady. They’re on foot. I’m headed after them.”
“Jesus, Winters. She wouldn’t be your responsibility if you’d left her in the first place.”
“But I didn’t, and she is.” His chest ached as he tried to keep his patience. Now wasn’t the time to blow his shit.
“Fix this. I better not hear about Titan in some local news report.”
“Just reporting in, boss man. I’ll go radio silent if you want.”
“What I want is to know how the fuck this happened.”
The storefront windows were shattered. Fragments of glass still hung in the window panes but most of it glittered on the sidewalk in front of the store. A small fire skimmed across the gasoline soaked parking lot. At least the sparks hadn’t ignited any pumps. A burglar alarm screeched, and flashing lights spun in bright distress. There wasn’t another store in miles, and traffic was minimal. The lights and siren served to alert no one.
“I’m in the middle of nowhere. They anticipated our route, maybe canvassed the stops along the way, and I’m convinced the clerk called them. I don’t know. Maybe they pulled the bounty hunter routine. Offered big cash.” Bet the clerk regretted that phone call now. “I got a few shots off and took cover from return fire. And I thought you’d want to know what the fuck was happening. That package, this job, it’s hot.”
“Parker’s running the scanners. We’ve got nothing. Doesn’t look like that alarm is tied to a monitoring system. No 911 call out. And best we can tell, those security cameras are for show. We cut the phone lines. You have a quick minute to find your girl.”
“10-4.” Winters blew out and ended the call. Simple package extraction, my ass.
Seconds ticked by as he planned his next move. The clerk lay curled in a ball on the floor, hands over head, whimpering near the soda cooler. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. At least that wasn’t a headache he needed to worry about. Winters crunched over the shards of glass and maneuvered back outside to an offensive position.
He crouched behind a thick telephone pole, weapon in hand. There had to be two additional men in the wooded area behind the gas station. It was the only way to explain how the third man had enough cover to drag Mia’s limp body into the woods.
As if he asked for their locations, they fired at him. Amateurs, giving away their position. That was unexpected after the pros at the airport.
Winters peered from behind the pole and squinted toward the woods, narrowing his kill zone. Triangulating. He couldn’t see the men, but he could predict beginner mistakes. Two more shots pinged out. One sparked off a nearby dumpster. The other one splintered a piece off a telephone pole.
It was exactly what he needed. Those greenhorn gunslingers should’ve stayed home.
He fired. Pop. Pop. One short cry. Another gurgling cough. No return fire. His shots were accurate. But were they lethal? Both shooters were down, he was sure, but he needed confirmation. He waited. One, one thousand. Two, one thousand. He wanted to wait until ten, but he got to nine and about gave up. Giving them a chance to move was torture. He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. He’d be no help if he needed a toe tag. Every second, each passing heartbeat, was too long to wait.
No sounds disturbed the night other than the now hysterical store clerk and rhythmic screech of the alarm system. Winters ducked from his safe position and ran to the dumpster. No one shot at him. He crouched to reload from a clip at his belt, then moved toward the tree line, heading down the same path as Mia.
Her kidnapper wasn’t trying to hide his trail. Thirty yards to the left, Winters saw a downed man. He might have been shooting blind into the woods without a target to set his sights in, but damned if he didn’t have a laser-pointed sense on where to take the fuckers down. He continued to follow the trampled brush. Mia’s second shoe was in the leaves. Anger rolled through him.
Someone stepped on a branch. Seconds passed. Not even the blaring alarm sounded now. The clerk must have disarmed the system. It would be only a few minutes until police arrived at the gas station, assuming the clerk got his shit together and called 911 from a cell phone.
Another cracking sound. Winters’s body jerked toward the sound and launched into motion. The kidnapper shuffled, panting hard, struggling to move with his load. This didn’t make any sense. It was amateur hour. All of the noise from the man acted as a homing beacon. What happened to the professional level of the earlier team? The man sweated whiskey and tobacco. Even if he weren’t making all that noise, Winters could smell him.
I’m coming, honey. Don’t you worry. I’m gonna kill this fucker for you.
Silent as a breeze, he closed the gap. Winters pressed through the thick Kentucky backwoods, zeroing in on his target. Her perpetrator panted harder now. Cigarette smoke and cheap booze poured from his sweat. The man circled the same few feet, unsure what direction to commit to. He seemed disoriented, unsure of the path to his getaway vehicle. The woods were blindingly thick. It would be easy for a novice to lose focus.
Mia gasped. She sucked air like a woman hell-bent on coming round.
He saw movement through the trees, less than forty feet away. Target acquired. The man struggled. He was overweight and panic-stricken, glancing in every direction, knowing he was the hunted.
One stealthy step after the next, Winters drew closer. He would sidle up behind the man and snap his neck. He was the Grim Reaper right now and had never been happier to own the role.
Ten feet. He crossed a downed tree. The man stalled. Mia stirred again, registering a croaky cry. It hit Winters in the gut, blazing a fury in his blood.
Five feet. The man had no idea just how close he was to death.
Mia roared out. Her palm flew straight up, connecting with her captor’s nose. Winters heard a clear crack of a nose breaking. A smile crossed his face. That’s my girl.
Her attacker released her legs to cover his nose. She slopped back a kick that rang true to the man’s nuts, doubling him over. He let go and covered his crotch. Gravity did its job, and she hit the ground, flailing, but then righted herself.
Hell, yes. No doubt. That’s my girl.
Not that he needed the distraction, but Winters took full advantage of it. He snapped the man’s neck and let go. His only concern was gathering Mia against his chest. He tried to calm her, brushing off the leaves and sticks clinging to her. She thrashed wild. Each limb fought for freedom.
“Let me go.” Her speech was slurred, but it didn’t keep her from shouting.
With one arm around her torso, he attempted to put a hand on her cheek and direct her gaze to him. To assure her that she was safe again. She bit down hard on his finger.
“Son of a bitch!” He didn’t let go of her waist, but her struggle lessened a degree as she recognized him, trying to piece it together.
“What?” Her confusion evident in her unfocused eyes.
“Calm down, Mia. It’s me. Colby.” He hushed her, whispering in her ear and trying to counteract her reaction to whatever drug had knocked her out. His lips danced across her temple. Her silken skin was like heaven. “You were drugged, but you’re okay.”
She hung limp in his arm. Her hard breathing regulated, and her shaking slowed to a gentle shiver. “I thought you liked to be called Winters.”
He laughed. The comment was absurd. Her mind didn’t work like other victims, and it fascinated the hell out of him.
He placed her on bare feet, holding her shoulders to keep her upright. As he murmured to her, he smoothed a stray strand of hair. They had to get a move on. But he needed one more minute to confirm she was alive. That she was his. “You’re a funny girl, you know that? Are you okay?”
“That’s a ridiculous question.” She scowled at him, trying to get her balance. Her arms counteracted her sway, outstretched and wavering. Her words slurred, but she didn’t try to dust him away like a pestering fly.
Winters laughed again, a smile staying on his cheeks. This is my kind of woman. No bullshit and plenty of sass. She impressed him, and it wasn’t the first or second time she’d pulled that card.
“Ready to get out of here, doll?”
She nodded, but still, she wobbled, bracing against him. Her palms on his chest, though unsure and drugged, did a hell of a thing to him. He ran his hands over her forearms and dropped to her waist. It was more possessive than steadying.
“Then let’s go. I just need to figure out where their car might have been.”
She slipped her hands over his and turned to walk. He took one step in the direction of the highway, then dropped his gaze to her bare feet and the underbrush. With an easy swing, he lofted her into his arms. She didn’t fight him and fit perfect against his chest like the missing piece in a jigsaw puzzle.
She rubbed against his shoulder, bemoaning her lack of strength and judgment. He ignored her words and focused on her nuzzling him. There was no denying how satisfying it was to hold her.
“Why their car? I want our truck.”
Her rasp wasn’t meant to be seductive. He knew that. It shouldn’t have done a thing to turn him on. But it sounded like a morning after rasp, all scratchy and grated, and it made him twitchy and turned-on.
What the hell was his problem? Awareness was key to their survival. Her survival.
Tonight, he was out of character, starting with missing the signs of impending assault, all the way up to here and now. He shouldn’t be running around with a hard-on. His concentration should’ve been laser-beam focused on their safety and the disk in his back pocket.
He cleared his throat and foraged a path through the woods. “I have to assume the cops are seconds away from the gas station. So, forget our pickup truck. It was rented with an alias anyway. No biggie.”
“Colby?”
“Yes, doll?”
He stepped through the thicket and pushed low-hanging branches away from her. She nestled against his chest.
“Thank you for saving me. Again.” She paused for a heartbeat. “Is it going to stop?”
The innocence in her words killed him. He growled with heated emotion. Anger. Lust. Possessiveness. “Hell, yes, it’s going to stop. So don’t worry about it. I’m going to fix all of it.”
Winters dropped his chin to her silky, tangled hair and breathed her in. Her hair pressed against his skin, tempting his control. Despite the day, she still smelled like butterscotch and vanilla. He heard a sigh that caught him off guard. It was his sigh. He rolled his eyes but sighed again, kissing her forehead and letting it linger.
She tightened her muscles in his arms and stiffened. “Please don’t do that.”
“What? Kiss you?” He knew he shouldn’t have. He stepped over more branches and pushed another thorny branch away from her. Why did he kiss her just now? She was scared, and he was on the job. If there was a better reminder of that than a shootout at a gas station, he didn’t know what it was.
“Yeah, just don’t.” Her body remained as still as a sniper blending into brush.
“I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me.” That was the hundredth apology for the day. It had to be a record considering he apologized… never, whether he should have or not. Strange. Mia tested him in a way he didn’t know possible. Hell. Strange didn’t even begin to describe it.
“You should be sorry.” She looked tart. Her lips pursed together, and the bridge of her nose scrunched in a wrinkle.
That was one confusing look. This was why he shouldn’t mix it up with her. Why he didn’t mix it up with any woman who wanted more than an exchange of first names. Then again, he liked knowing that Mia was Mia Kensington. Whatever. His blood sugar must’ve been low or something. He continued to cover ground in search of the car.
“Wanna explain the attitude?” Was he auditioning for Dr. Phil’s job? Christ.
“I heard you back at the gas station. I love you?” She mocked. “I heard you talking to your wife or girlfriend or whatever.”
He laughed. This shit’s funny. Of course she heard him. He knew she was too close. This was funny, but he kept that to himself, instead opting to tighten his hold. More of a hug, really.
An abandoned car sat on an access road, he closed the distance like he just saw a sign screaming it was two-for-one freebie day at Glock and Company. She fought the hold, pushing her shoulders away from him, but he couldn’t have cared less, and he worked to not chuckle out loud.
“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” he said and kissed her nose.
She hissed and squirmed in his arms again. Her backside unintentionally rubbed on his forearm.
Christ, he might not live through this day. “Mia, would you cut that out? You’re distracting me.”
“No. I’m out of here.” Rub, rub, rub.
“Right. And where you going?”
“It doesn’t concern you.”
She was too much. Enough with all the snark and scoots. They killed him. With each sway of her backside, he was digging his grave. Each time he hit the rocky bottom, he’d just start over fresh.
He stopped at the car. “Here you go. Down as you requested. Your chariot awaits.”
She crossed her arms and tapped a bare foot.
“Fine. We can do this again.” He scooped her up, jacked open the passenger door, and plopped her in, then moved to the driver’s seat. The keys were in the ignition. Excellent—easier than hot-wiring the thing. He twisted the key. The sedan turned over and idled. The radio came on. Elton John’s “Can You Feel the Love Tonight”.
Funny. So very funny.
“I can feel something.” Mia pressed buttons on the radio. Static and garbled stations filtered in through the speakers.
“You’re testy when you’re like this. It’s cute.” He repositioned his chair and chuckled. “This whole jealous thing is adorable.”
She jammed the buttons on the radio harder. “Jealous? You’re a piece of work. Stop talking to me.”
“You’re mad that we kissed. That you grabbed me. Not used to the whole white knight thing? Or are you upset that you were turned on in the truck?” He slid the tip of a finger from her cheek to her chin. She batted it away, hard.
“White knight? Are you insane?”
She glared at him. Oh, if looks could kill, Winters would’ve been on the next bus to Morgue City.
“Some would say yes to both white knight and insane. But from you, I’ll take strategic, operational genius. Handsome man who keeps saving you. Take your pick.”
“There’s something wrong with you.”
“I thought you analyzed me already and turned up empty-handed.”
“That was before I knew you.”
“And where is all this coming from again? Oh yeah, cause you were eavesdropping and heard me say I love you.”
She turned up the static on the radio loud enough it hurt his ears. Calling her out wasn’t the best move he had in his arsenal but better than ignoring her.
He turned the volume down, steered them back on to the road with one hand draped over the steering wheel, and followed the road’s turn as it passed by the gas station. As expected, blue and red flashing lights flooded the area. Local troopers combed through the store and his truck, wondering what the hell just happened in their one gas station, two stop light town.
If they hadn’t found the bodies already, they’d be stumped. Podunk Kentucky didn’t see a lot of shootouts, and it didn’t have a regular body count.