“What makes you think I’d go anywhere with you?” Max growled. He hadn’t liked this guy before he’d met him. He sure as hell didn’t now.
Gage shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because she’s getting away from both of us.”
“Let’s go.” Max lowered his weapon, but didn’t reholster it. He wasn’t about to let his guard down where this guy was concerned.
Before Max had even closed the passenger side door, the SUV squealed into motion. Gage Kimble drove swiftly through the quiet streets, easily catching sight of the sedan once more. But she was still well ahead of them. They rounded the next corner and she was gone. Both swearing, and with Kimble pushing the SUV for all it was worth, they discovered, several hard maneuvers later, the sedan parked in front of a warehouse, the driver’s door still open.
They searched the area thoroughly, but Scout was nowhere to be found. She’d vanished. Max had an uneasy feeling about her sudden disappearance. Part of him was convinced that she was still in the vicinity, but another part of him was certain she was gone.
Dammit. Why hadn’t she trusted him?
He glared as Kimble returned to his Range Rover. And why the hell had this guy shown up?
“I didn’t find anything,” he said, shaking his head in disgust. “She’s given us the slip.”
Max rounded on him then. “Why don’t you tell me what your interest in Scout is?” He still held his weapon in his right hand. Unlike Kimble, he had no intention of behaving so nonchalantly in the presence of a stranger. Especially not when that stranger was Scout’s ex-boyfriend. Her lover … Max clenched his jaw until a muscle flexed there.
A full ten tension-filled seconds ticked by as Kimble stared back at him, clearly weighing his words and attempting to determine just who Max was. “You never said who you are,” he finally countered, with utter confidence that he had every right to know the answer.
“Pierce Maxwell. I’m with the Colby Agency.” Max managed to relay the information without shooting the guy for emphasis. He had never had this much difficulty regaining his perspective on a matter.
Kimble smiled knowingly. “Ah yes. Max. The gentleman she spent those three weeks in isolation with.” He nodded, another knowing gesture. “She told me about you.”
Max narrowed his gaze. “When did she tell you about me?” Dammit, he’d known it. She’d gone right back to this jerk. Even after what they’d shared.
The other man crossed his arms over his chest and leaned casually against his overpriced SUV. “Oh, a couple weeks after she was released. We had dinner at one of our old favorite haunts in Houston.”
Okay. Dinner. They’d had dinner. He was an old friend of her father’s, Max remembered. Maybe he was making more out of this than it was. He had to get a grip here. He had to ditch this guy and find Scout.
“Well, thanks for sharing,” he said with a smile, his tone leaving no doubt as to what he was really thinking. “But I need to be off. Places to go and people to see and all that.” The keys were in the sedan. He’d take it back to the office and pick up his SUV, then he had to put a call in to Cooper. Scout would most likely head back to Houston. Or, at the very least, she’d probably try and contact her assistant.
“We don’t have to be enemies, you know,” Kimble offered. He straightened from the vehicle.
Max tensed, his fingers tightening around the butt of his weapon.
Kimble smiled as if he’d noted Max’s reaction and was amused by it. Max was not amused. In fact, he was about as far from amused as was humanly possible to get.
“Really, Max, old man,” Kimble said jovially, “you should learn to relax.” His gaze turned suddenly hard and serious, but when he spoke, his voice remained low and amicable. “I need to find her. I won’t allow anything to stand in my way.”
Max knew a threat when he heard one. It was his turn to smile then. “What’d she do? Break a date with you or something?” Again Max had to clench his jaw hard to prevent himself from saying more. His rigid posture and tight tone were already giving away far too much.
“She’s pregnant.” Kimble’s expression changed, relaxed into an unreadable mask. “The child is mine.”
Shock radiated all the way down to the soles of Max’s feet. A hurt or disappointment he couldn’t quite label shuddered through him. The child wasn’t his. She had gone back to her ex when she’d walked away from him, without looking back.
“I don’t know why she’s on the run,” Kimble added, his face still wiped clean of all emotion. “But I want to help her. To help our child.”
Something dark and unfathomable welled up inside Max. For the first time in his life he wanted to kill a man. A man he scarcely knew and with whom he had no beef. Except one.
Somehow, without flinching, Max said, “I’ll give her your message when I see her.”
Kimble climbed into his SUV. The final look he gave Max before driving away said more than any words could have.
This wasn’t over.
Chapter Eight
Scout held her breath as she felt the car dip slightly with the driver’s weight. The engine started and then the vehicle rolled into forward motion. She exhaled softly, thankful that her plan had worked.
Though it was dark in the trunk, she could deal with it. Her right foot was bare. The sneaker lay on the floor next to her, and her sock now served as a block preventing the trunk’s latch from engaging. All she had to do was keep the lid from bouncing until he stopped again, which wasn’t so bad, since they were on city streets and not bumpy country roads.
She strained to listen when she heard Max’s voice as he spoke to someone. Via his cellular phone, she supposed. She hadn’t been able to make out the conversation he’d had outside a few moments ago. Someone had helped him give chase … but who? No one was supposed to know where they were. Had he lied about Cooper’s whereabouts?
“Yeah, Cooper, this is Max.” Pause. “I’ve lost her. Keep a close eye on that assistant, since Scout may call.” There was a pause. A long, frustrated sigh. “That’ll work.”
Scout tried not to be affected by the sound of his voice, but she always was. There was just something about that husky baritone that made her weak in the knees—even at a time like this. She was so truly pathetic. She’d been in love with Max since the moment she’d laid eyes on him. That she now carried his child only made her love him more.
But she couldn’t trust him completely. Not yet. Alexon had hired him. Max had a strong sense of loyalty. To be disloyal to Alexon would, in effect, make him disloyal to the Colby Agency. She knew the agency’s reputation, they couldn’t know what Alexon was up to. She didn’t see that happening. And if Cooper wasn’t the one to provide his backup transportation, which evidently he was not, then who had? She listened intently as Max spoke again.
“Oh, yeah. I found that file she was looking for. The one her uncle had hidden… .”
The rest of the conversation faded into insignificance. Ice slid through her veins. He knew she was pregnant now. Worse, he’d lied to her. He’d searched the kitchen and the living room and supposedly come up empty-handed. She remembered the encouraging words he’d said to her when he’d tucked her into bed. I’m sure we’ll find that file. He’d already found it. He knew her secret.
Well, now she knew something, too.
She couldn’t trust Max at all.
He was one of the enemy.
Her anxiety ratcheted up a notch. Everything was falling apart. She hadn’t expected Max’s help. Hadn’t wanted it. But she hadn’t anticipated him being in the enemy’s camp, either. There was no doubt in her mind now that he was exactly that.
Somehow Alexon managed to keep tabs on their whereabouts—just another nail in the coffin of her trust. No way would Alexon have known where she and Max ended up last night if he hadn’t kept them informed. No way. And it had to be one of Alexon’s men who’d brought him hunting for her when she’d left with the sedan. There had been no other transportation, and Cooper was obviously
in Houston. Her uncle’s car was still in Alexon’s parking lot, where he’d left it the morning before his death.
A spear of pain arced through her at the thought of her uncle. This was too much. Scout squeezed her eyes shut and blocked the suddenly overwhelming need to simply give up.
No!
Her eyes snapped open.
She wasn’t done yet. She would not let anyone, not Alexon, not even Max, stop her.
Twenty minutes later, Max braked the sedan again. This time he got out of the car and opened the rear driver’s side door. Something dragged across the back seat. Then he slammed the door.
Her duffel, she realized. He was taking it with him.
That was okay by her. She had clothes on her back. There was nothing in the duffel of particular importance. What she’d left behind in her tote bag, even the file on Alexon, held nothing of significant value. None of it proved anything. It all boiled down to her word against theirs.
But Harold’s file was another matter.
She wanted that file.
She would have it.
When she heard another door open she made her move. She allowed the trunk lid to fly open and she bounded out, landing on her feet and taking off at a dead run. She was at Max’s back and had the barrel of her weapon pressed against his head before he could turn around. The fact that he’d been loading her duffel into his SUV had been to her advantage.
“Give me the file,” she demanded without preamble. Why beat around the bush? She knew what she was dealing with now. There was no point in pretending.
Dawn was streaking across the nearly deserted parking lot. They were back at the building that housed the Colby Agency. The sedan she’d exited as well as another in the same color sat next to an SUV. Max had parked the sedan directly behind his own SUV, which had facilitated her ability to come up behind him with such ease.
“Scout, listen to me. You’ve got to trust me,” he said in that voice that had haunted her dreams for four long months.
She laughed. Couldn’t help herself. “Trust you? Trust you?!” Hysteria rose in her voice with each word she uttered. “Just how stupid do you think I am, Maxwell?”
“Listen to me—” He made a move to turn around, but she stopped him with a jab of the barrel.
“Don’t move,” she said from between clenched teeth. “And put your hands up where I can see them.” How could she have allowed herself to fall in love with this guy? She blinked back the tears brimming. He’d fooled her completely. She’d cared about Gage, but she’d seen through him to a degree all along. He’d never owned her heart the way Max had.
What a fool she’d been.
“Just take it easy,” he urged softly, using that lady-killer voice to rattle her. “I’m not the enemy, Scout.”
She scoffed. “You are something, Pierce Maxwell, I’ll give you that. But I’ve got your number now, so give me the file.”
“Your friend told me about the pregnancy.” His voice was still soft, but there was an underlying tension that was both unmistakable and unnerving.
He knew she was pregnant with his child, and all he could do was say “Your friend told me… .”
A frown creased her brow, adding another layer of tension to the headache already pounding in her skull. “What friend? What the hell are you talking about, Maxwell?” The file had told him her secret.
“Gage Kimble,” he said flatly. “He told me.”
Gage? When had Max seen Gage? “What does Gage have to do with this?” She nudged him with the barrel once more. “I’m sure you discovered I was pregnant when you found the file. Why lie about it? Now, give it to me!”
“He also told me,” Max added, so maddeningly calm that she wanted to scream, “that the child was his.”
To say the announcement shocked her would have been a vast understatement. Gage had told Max that she was carrying his child? That was insane. Why would he say such a thing? How could Gage even know about the baby? Maybe Max was simply baiting her to get the truth. She opened her mouth to set the record straight about Gage, but snapped it shut instead. This was perfect. Though she still couldn’t fathom where Max had run into Gage or why, at least now her secret was safe for a little while longer. She would simply allow Max to believe what he would. A twinge of regret flickered through her, but she ignored it. He didn’t deserve to know. Sure, he was the baby’s father, but she couldn’t trust him. He was the enemy now.
“I don’t care what he told you. Just give me the file.”
“It’s in my back pocket.”
Scout swallowed with difficulty. She didn’t relish the idea of touching him. Well, the real problem was she knew what her physical reaction would be, and she didn’t want that. But she did want the file. She had to have it.
Firming her resolve, she reached beneath his sport jacket and checked first one jeans pocket and then the other. The one on the right bulged slightly with his wallet. The left yielded only a few folded pages. She quickly unfolded them and glanced downward.
“This is all?” she demanded, certain there must be more. The way her uncle had talked, he had irrefutable evidence on why she was being sought and by whom. Of course, that would be Alexon. They were the ones who’d held her hostage. That’s where her uncle had worked. It was all quite simple … and more costly than anything should be.
“I found those pages buried in the canister this morning when I got up to make coffee,” he explained. “You were in the shower … or I thought you were,” he added, disappointment echoing in his voice.
“Like I’d believe anything you said,” she muttered. What should she do with him now? She arched a speculative brow. She could lock him in the trunk of the sedan.
“I haven’t lied to you, Scout,” he insisted, looking over his shoulder at her, those blues eyes beseeching her for the one thing she wouldn’t give him—her trust.
Firming her grip on the nine-millimeter, she issued one last demand before leaving him for good. “If you haven’t lied to me, then why is it that Alexon shows up every time I’m with you? There’s no way they could have known we’d go to my uncle’s house. You had to have tipped them off.”
He shook his head, the movement drawing her attention to all that thick blond hair. It was the color of wet sand and begged to have her fingers run through it. But that would never happen again.
“I haven’t contacted Alexon since I found you. That’s the truth, whether you choose to believe it or not.”
“Yeah, right,” she snapped. “Like they just happened to show up this morning at 5:30 a.m. when I was making my escape.”
Max turned slightly to look at her. She nudged him with the weapon. He flinched, but didn’t back off. “That wasn’t Alexon. That was your boyfriend, Gage.”
He said the name with blatant disdain. But it wasn’t his pointed annoyance that grabbed her attention, it was the bald-faced lie.
“Why would Gage show up at my uncle’s house?” she retorted, disgusted with herself for even pursuing the subject. “I haven’t—”
Before she could finish the statement that she hadn’t seen Gage in months, Max interrupted with a flare of temper. “It was him. He showed up looking for you. When you took off we followed in his vehicle.”
She tried to think what kind of car Gage had driven the last time she saw him, but nothing came. Their relationship had been over for months. When he’d asked her to dinner shortly after her release from isolation, she’d gone out with him only to get her mind off Max. Then she hadn’t seen Gage again.
“I didn’t know the two of you were pals,” she spat, suddenly suspicious of the coincidence. Sure, Gage knew where her uncle lived. But why show up now? After all this time?
“Trust me,” Max said, his tone, his expression nothing short of deadly, “we’re not.”
This was all entirely too confusing and she had no time for any of it. She shoved the pages into her jeans pocket and motioned toward the sedan with her weapon. “Give me your gun and then climb into th
e trunk.”
He turned all the way around to face her, making her take an unexpected step back. Only then did she remember that she was minus one shoe.
“I’m not giving you my weapon and I’m damn sure not climbing into the trunk of that car.”
Why was it men always thought that women weren’t serious when they gave an order?
“You might want to rethink that, Maxwell.” She smiled saccharinely. “After all, I’m the one holding the gun.”
He glanced at her weapon, then back at her, a hint of a smile lingering around the corners of his sexy mouth. “You’re not going to shoot me.”
Fury streaked through her and she cocked the weapon before she could think better of it. “Says who?” She lifted an eyebrow.
Now she had him. He looked decidedly more accommodating.
“Put the weapon down, Scout,” he suggested. “I know you don’t want to do this. Let’s talk about it.”
“I’m through talking to you.” She jerked her head in the direction of the sedan. “Now, let’s go.”
“Drop the weapon.”
The male voice came from right behind her, and she felt the nudge of a cold steel barrel on the back of her neck. Now she had a dilemma.
“I don’t think so,” she replied. Heck, what did she have to lose? Maybe Alexon didn’t give a rat’s tail about Max’s life, but they did want her in one piece. They wouldn’t kill her.
Three things happened in the next few seconds. Something passed between the two men; Scout saw it in Max’s eyes. A bout of morning sickness hit her—so hard that she had to slap her left hand over her mouth. And her right arm was suddenly knocked upward, forcing her aim away from Max.
When a second wave of nausea hit she would have dropped her weapon entirely if the man behind her hadn’t snagged it from her hand. She made a mad dash for the rear of the SUV and broke into a fit of dry heaves.
She could hear Max and the other man talking, but she couldn’t stop heaving long enough to do anything about it. Since she hadn’t consumed anything since last night there wasn’t much to lose, but the spasms plagued her for several more minutes. She wished for water and for crackers, about the only things she could safely eat and drink in the mornings. God, this part was supposed to be over by now.
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