Stolen Heat

by Elisabeth Naughton

  Kat shrieked. Pete moved more of his body over her, shielding her head with his arms and tucking her face against his neck. The seconds that passed as the garage was ripped to shreds by flying shrapnel felt like hours.

  In the brief lull that followed, Pete muttered, “Holy fuck.”

  His weight was a solid force pushing down on her, his breath hot against her skin, but all she could focus on was where she’d gone wrong and how in the name of God they’d been found so fast.

  “Are you hit?”

  She registered his hands gripping her arms hard, his eyes intense, only inches from her own, boring right into her skull. She glanced down at where he held her, then back up again. Somehow, she was able to shake her head. “No. No, I’m not hit. I…oh, God—”

  “Katherine Meyer!”

  Kat froze at the deeply accented Middle Eastern voice.

  “We know you’re in there,” it yelled again. “Come out now so we can settle this in a civilized manner.”

  Busir.

  “Civilized manner, my ass,” Pete whispered. “Don’t you move a goddamn muscle.”

  Perspiration popped out on Kat’s skin. Without warning she was back in the tomb, a knife at her throat, a hard and evil man at her back, holding her tight by her hair.

  “No, no, no,” she muttered, struggling underneath Pete. Panic washed away her common sense. She had to get away. She couldn’t stay here. She had to…what? What could she possibly do? A groan tore from her chest.

  “Pull it together, Kat,” Pete said softly. He locked his legs around her thighs to stop her struggling, holding her tight against his body. Bracing one forearm across her chest to keep her pressed to the cold concrete, he clamped his free hand over her mouth. “Shh!”

  The flight response was so strong, his words and strength barely registered. But when they did, and she realized he was carefully listening to Busir’s movements outside, she went utterly still.

  “That’s it,” he said in her ear. His hot breath tickled the soft skin behind her ear, ran like rivulets down her neck. Or maybe that was the perspiration from her adrenaline rush. She couldn’t tell anymore.

  “Two out front. They’re checking the main door. It’s locked, right?”

  She couldn’t find the words to speak, so she nodded instead.

  “I’m going to let go of your mouth. But you better stay quiet. Nod for me if you understand.” When she did, he slowly eased his hand off her face.

  She forced herself to swallow back the mind-numbing fear. So much for all her training and years of preparation for this moment. Her gun was yards from her, and when it came right down to a life-or-death moment, she’d frozen, just like she had in that tomb.

  What would she have done if Pete hadn’t been here?

  Pete pushed up just enough to peer around the large, metal freestanding tool chest that had saved their lives. Footsteps echoed from the side of the building. From somewhere behind his back he pulled out a very big, very black gun she’d had no idea he carried.

  She let out a small gasp of surprise. He held his fingers to his lips and pointed toward the apartment door. “Exterior access?”

  Common sense was finally filtering back into her mind. She shook her head and swallowed. “Not there. Back of the garage. There’s another door for rear parking.”

  He gave one nod, then lowered himself so he was close to her ear again. Electricity zipped along her nerve endings at both the rush of adrenaline and his skin brushing hers. “I think there are two more. They’re circling the building and reloading. Can you get inside the cab without making any sound?”

  Her heart skipped a beat when she realized he wasn’t going to save his own ass and leave her here for Busir. Regardless of everything they’d done to each other and how he felt about her right now, he wasn’t leaving her behind.

  Stupid-ass tears that had no purpose stung the backs of her eyes. She nodded quickly, blinking in rapid succession to avoid turning into a hysterical woman in the midst of a crisis. She was so not that woman anymore.

  “Good,” he said. “I’m going to create a diversion. When you hear it, gun that engine and make sure the passenger door is open for me.”

  Just what did he have planned?

  “Wait. Are we going out the front or back?” she asked.

  He thought for a second. “You know this area better. With the amount of snow that’s come down, your best guess is a helluva lot better than mine.”

  Her best guess. Crap, her best guess had nearly killed them both. Refusing to think about that, she swallowed again. Hills ran close to the building along the back side. If they went that way, their odds of getting stuck in the fresh powder were much, much greater. “Front,” she finally said, knowing it was their only hope.

  “Front,” he agreed with a nod, staring into her eyes.

  For a second, she felt the connection they’d shared earlier when he’d kissed her spark up again, the same one they’d had in Cairo.

  “Then we pray like hell you can drive this damn rig so we don’t end up spinning our wheels,” he added.

  He eased off her slowly, in increments so their movements wouldn’t be heard. Pushing up to a crouch behind the tool cabinet, gun lifted near his head, he waved for her to get up.

  Kat was rattled as hell, and she knew she was going to be sore from hitting the cement floor, but she forced herself up and somehow managed to get to the side of the truck with barely a whisper. When she glanced back at Pete, though, she gasped. Blood stained the back of his torn sweatshirt in several places.

  She bit down hard on her lip to keep from calling out to him, then prayed the fresh spots of blood were only shrapnel wounds and not bullet holes.

  He’d used his body as a shield for her.

  The heroics were so at odds with what she knew of him. But she couldn’t think about that now. She had to get into the truck and get ready for whatever it was he had planned.

  Using both hands, she reached up and lifted the door handle, pausing when the soft click seemed to echo through the vast garage like a cannon exploding on the horizon.

  “Katherine Meyer!” Busir yelled again. “This is your last warning. Come out now peacefully or we come in after you.”

  Kat didn’t waste any more time. Busir was a man of his word. She’d learned that a long time ago.

  She pulled the door open and quietly rejoiced when the hinges didn’t creak. In jerky moves, she crawled across the seat and slid behind the wheel. Her pack with the pendant of the crouching pharaoh nestled inside was already secured under the seat—a precaution she’d made earlier, just in case. She glanced up to let Pete know she was in position, but by the time she looked he was already gone.

  Fear iced her veins. She had no idea where he was or what his diversion was going to be.

  An explosion from within the small studio apartment rocked the truck and entire garage. Flames shot out of the doorway. Kat ducked her head and stifled a cry just as gunshots whipped through the air again in rapid succession.

  The world felt like it had caught fire. But from somewhere far off, she heard a familiar voice yell, “Go, go, go!”

  She twisted the keys in the ignition and revved the engine. Just as she was about to step on the gas, Pete threw himself into the cab of the truck and yelled, “Now!”

  She gunned it. Their bodies jerked back at the sudden momentum. The Ford’s tires squealed on the cement. Seconds later they crashed through the wooden door at the end of the garage and tore off through the snow.

  Two bodies Kat barely saw leaped out of the way of the truck. The tires slipped, and the back end whipped around on a thick layer of fresh powder. Miraculously, they somehow gained traction.

  Gunfire ignited behind them. Pete rolled over the seat, gripped her head and pushed. “Stay down!”

  Kat tightened her hands on the wheel, leaned down as low as she could and tried to focus on getting to the road without killing them both. When a blast of cold air rushed through the cab, she
realized Pete had opened his window and was firing back. She couldn’t spare a glance to see if he’d hit anyone. They were about to reach the road.

  “Hold on!”

  She pulled hard on the steering wheel to make the turn. Pete fell into the seat, rammed into her shoulder. The back end slid again, this time as if the tires were on an ice rink. And in the split second that followed, Kat realized in a moment of utter clarity that unless a miracle struck, they weren’t going to make it.

  They were going to spin. Right there in the middle of Hwy 249. Before they could correct, Busir would be on them.

  Oh, God. This was it.

  After six long, lonely years, she was really going to die in a car accident after all. This time in the middle of a blizzard. And she was taking the man she’d once loved with her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The tail end of the truck whipped across the ice-covered road and sent Pete and Kat spiraling to the left. Pete gripped the dash hard as the tires slipped, then caught in the powder and the old vehicle corrected itself, shooting out of the drive.

  When they finally turned a corner and were out of direct sight of the farm, Kat let out an audible breath. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. She darted a glance into the rearview mirror at the old barn, now half-engulfed in flames and partially hidden by trees.

  “What was that?”

  “Propane,” Pete said. “Small tank in the kitchen.” He ditched the spent magazine from the Glock he’d found, snapped the new one into place and darted a look behind them. It was hard to see much through the surrounding forest and early morning darkness as they shot down the barren road, but the red glow of flames was still visible through the canopy, as was the smell of burning rubber through the open window at his side.

  Wouldn’t be long before those fireworks were spotted by some locals. For their sakes, he hoped Kat’s thugs were gone by then.

  Shit. How had Busir found them so fast? The other guy, the long-haired one from the auction, had been there, too. The one Pete knew he’d met before but just couldn’t place.

  They rounded several bends in the road before Kat glanced in the rearview. Breathing easier, but obviously with enough adrenaline still rushing through her body to run a marathon, she said, “I don’t see anyone behind us.”

  “Not yet.” He repositioned himself on the torn fabric bench seat and wished like hell they had a Hummer like the bad-asses behind them. Just his luck to get stuck in a rusted-out, beat-to-hell-and-back pickup. “I think I shot out at least one, maybe two tires on that big rig. We’ve got a bit of a head start. But they’ll be coming.”

  Dawn was just rising over the hills. He figured they had fifteen minutes, maybe less if she didn’t pick up her pace on these snowy back roads. “Speaking of which. How do you think they found us?”

  She shook her head but stayed focused on the road. “I don’t know. We had a run-in with them outside the pir—” She stopped abruptly and pursed her lips. “Your girlfriend’s apartment.”

  His brow lowered. And though he couldn’t quite make sense of the scenes popping through his mind, he had a vague recollection of being in an alley, wrestling with someone who looked suspiciously like Busir. Then being shocked into stupor by Kat’s presence.

  He reached a hand up to run fingers over his bruised eye. “A run-in, huh? Was this before or after you drugged me?”

  “Before. And I didn’t drug you. They did. I just made sure they didn’t take you with them. Their interrogation techniques aren’t pretty.”

  She wouldn’t look at him, and the sickness sliding across her features struck him as completely at odds with the tough-as-nails liar he’d pegged her as earlier. When he’d come to in Slade’s garage apartment, he’d been so focused on what the hell she’d done to him that he hadn’t stopped to wonder how she’d actually gotten him all the way to Pennsylvania in the first place. Was it possible she’d somehow saved him from a much worse fate?

  What exactly had she witnessed in that tomb? What had Busir and his crony really done to her roommate?

  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Because if it was as bad as he was starting to envision, it gave her a damn good reason for disappearing into thin air for six years.

  “How far to the nearest town?” he asked instead.

  “Eight miles, maybe more. But there’s nothing there. A gas station. A store. Both of which will be closed this early in the morning, especially after a storm like last night’s.”

  Just what he was hoping for. He glanced back over his shoulder. Still no sign of Busir. He figured that had to be a plus, all things considered.

  “Where’d you learn to drive like that?”

  She seemed surprised by the question, which made him realize it was the first time he’d asked anything personal about her in the hours they’d been locked up together.

  “Upstate New York. You either stay locked in your house six months out of the year or learn to drive in snow. Since I tend to go stir-crazy indoors, I learned how to drive in the snow.”

  So that was where she’d been hiding. And why she’d so easily shown up at the auction in New York City.

  “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?” she asked a few minutes later.

  He glanced sideways across the seat. The early-morning glow illuminated her profile. He still did a double-take when he saw her with that short black hair, but her face was just as he remembered. As if she hadn’t aged a day beyond the twenty-five she’d been when he’d known her.

  A heavy tingling started low in his stomach and inched its way south. He stiffened and shifted the Glock to his other thigh, palming the cool metal in the process to give his body a different sensation to focus on. “Good skill to have in my line of work.”

  He glanced out the window at the sun rising slowly over the white-covered hills and told himself he didn’t care about her reaction.

  She kept her eyes on the road as she made the sharp S-turn, but he heard her mumble, “Job security.”

  He looked her way again. And thought about the kind of men he’d dealt with before he’d met her.

  She had no idea about job security and what he’d done.

  Silence filled the cab. He propped an elbow on the windowsill and ran his hand over his mouth, contemplating what she’d say if he told her.

  Then frowned. She wouldn’t say anything. Even after their steamy months together, after everything he thought he’d meant to her, he knew she wouldn’t care. And why should she? If her story was at all close to the truth, she had every reason to hate his guts.

  The truck rounded a bend, and the small town of Keeneyville came into view. As Kat drove down the main street, he sat up straighter and refocused on the here and now.

  Like she’d mentioned earlier, the downtown consisted of nothing more than a smattering of homes, a two-tank gas station with a flapping green-and-white sign advertising overinflated prices and a hole-in-the-wall market where the locals probably bought beer and cigarettes and gossiped about the local high school football team like they were the Super Bowl champs. There were no people milling around at this early hour, no other cars on the road for that matter either. The one stoplight in town was blowing gently in the wind and flashing yellow as if the power had gone out during the storm.

  “Turn in there.”

  Kat’s eyes widened, but she didn’t question him, simply pulled into the lot behind the market and parked next to a blue, early-90s Pathfinder covered in snow. Pete popped the truck’s door before she came to a complete stop.

  “Hold on, Pete. You’re blee—”

  He hopped out before she finished her statement, the too-small boots crunching in the snow as he moved. A quick glance in the passenger window confirmed there were no keys, but no alarm either.

  He looked down for a rock to smash in the window as he walked around the vehicle but couldn’t see anything useful through the snow that filled the lot. When he reached the driver’s side, he lifted the door
handle on the off chance whoever had left this POS here had forgotten to lock it. And wouldn’t you know it, the damn door pulled open.

  Maybe things were looking up for him after all.

  He’d just slid into the Pathfinder and leaned down to look under the steering column when he heard footsteps scuffing across the snow, followed by Kat’s surprised voice.

  “What are you doing?”

  He popped the panel, found the two wires he figured were the right ones and pulled. “Saving my ass,” he said as he sat up. “Your friends back there are going to be looking for a rusted-out Ford. Not a beat-up Nissan.”

  He used his fingernail to strip the wires, made the connection and smiled as the engine burst to life, the sound like music to his ears.

  “So you’re just going to steal it?”

  “Yep. Now back away, or you’re going to get run over.”

  From the corner of his eye he caught her startled expression, but he ignored it. They were away from the farm. She had her own means of transportation. They didn’t need each other anymore.

  He sent her a two-finger salute as he pulled out of the lot and turned onto the street.

  And then made the mistake of glancing in the rearview mirror.

  Kat stood in the middle of the snowy lot, staring after him with eyes that were flat and resigned. She’d expected him to leave her like that. And he’d just reaffirmed every one of her beliefs about him.

  He hit the brakes at the end of the block, gripped the cold steering wheel with both hands and dropped his head.

  Fuuuuuuck.

  If he’d seen hurt or even disbelief on her face he could have sped off without a second thought. But not with that look of…cold indifference etched into her features.

  Muttering curses at her, at himself, at the whole situation in general, he circled the block and slammed on the brakes in front of the market’s empty lot. Kat was still standing in the same place, watching him with impassiveness.

  He leaned over the seat and popped the passenger door. “Get in.”