Navy Seal Security

by Liz Johnson

  “It’s all fine. Nothing new since two nights ago.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “Well, nothing except finding out about Camilla.”

  “Do you think she’s capable of this?”

  Mandy dug her hand into her bag, rooting around for her keys for several seconds before producing them. “I don’t know. I don’t know her. But a woman scorned, well, she’s capable of nearly anything.”

  Luke nodded as the lights on her white SUV blinked. He glanced at the wheel as she opened her door, and the parking lot lights reflected off a puddle peeking out beneath her front bumper. “I think you’re leaking.”

  “I know.” She threw her bag into the car and slid behind the wheel. “It’s been leaking antifreeze for a couple days. I need to have it looked at.”

  He nodded. “You’ve had other things on your mind.” He put his hand on her door to close it. “Have a good night. Drive safe.”

  “I will.”

  The door clicked closed, and he stood silently watching her pull out of the lot and onto the major cross street. When she had disappeared, he moved toward his car, watching the pool of liquid in her empty parking spot to make sure he didn’t slip in it.

  The yellowish lights above made the puddle’s color hard to distinguish, but it wasn’t a neon color like many antifreeze brands. In fact, it looked more like oil.

  A knot in his stomach went taut, and he shifted one of his crutches to the other side so that he could bend almost all the way over. Stretching his arm as far as he could reach, he swiped a finger through the fluid. Dry and oily. Lifting it to his nose, he inhaled. It smelled like fish oil.

  Like brake fluid.

  Like her brake lines had been cut.

  “Mandy!” He yelled her name, even as his throat closed. The strangled cry died quickly on the wind, and he ran as fast as his crutches would carry him to his car.

  Get to her. Get to her. Get to her.

  He had to find her before she couldn’t stop. Before she sailed through a red light or flew off a mountain road.

  He flung his crutches into his car, gritted his teeth against the eruption in his knee when he bumped his leg and peeled out of the parking lot. He whipped in front of another car and floored it in the direction she’d gone.

  She hadn’t given him her cell number. Too personal.

  But this, this was beyond personal. This was a matter of life and death.

  FOUR

  The light before the highway entrance turned yellow, and Mandy pressed her brake pedal.

  Her car barely slowed and coasted through the red light, accompanied by the angry honking of several other drivers. Her SUV let out a squeal of pain. With white knuckles, she gripped her steering wheel and tried to pull over, but there was no shoulder and she was moving too fast. A car at her side blocked her in, and one in front of her slowed way down.

  “Please. Please. Please,” she begged as she pressed her sluggish brake again. Her car gave a woeful shudder, stopping just inches from the bumper in front of her.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Leaning back, she glanced at her floor mat, which seemed to be bunched under the brake. Giving the carpet a tug, she pressed the pedal again. Her little SUV lurched but stopped.

  Much better.

  Even so, the interstate’s stop-and-go traffic could be more than trying if her brakes were being cranky. With a quick turn, she slipped into another lane. She’d take the back roads home. Dark and windy, but at least they weren’t quite as busy.

  Mandy zipped along the twisting roads as she headed up the hill, hugging the center line, keeping her distance from the sheer cliff to her right. The vertical wall of stone on the far side of the two-lane highway was almost invisible against the black sky as she worked her way out of the city. One pair of headlights in her rearview mirror and the fading red lights of three other cars in the distance before her were her only company.

  She let out a breath, already feeling the stress of the day and Gary’s visit lifting.

  Until she tapped her brakes as she crested a summit.

  Nothing happened.

  She punched them hard and gasped as the pedal reached the floor. With no response.

  Grabbing the wheel with two shaking hands, she tried to keep her vehicle in her lane as it picked up speed.

  The road before her curved back and forth, a black snake—and just as terrifying.

  Blood rushed in her ears, swallowing every other sound, including the frantic prayer leaving her lips. “Help me. Please. I need help.”

  The car behind her seemed to be gaining on her, but she couldn’t let herself be hypnotized by the white lights. Her lane seemed to narrow, and she focused on the center line.

  Just stay away from the edge. Don’t go over. And don’t miss a turn.

  Her palms turned slick, but she couldn’t risk wiping them. Mandy squeezed the steering wheel tighter, praying she wouldn’t make a wrong turn. The road had to level out. It had to.

  But it just continued its steep decline. No escape. No emergency exit.

  Emergency.

  Her emergency brake.

  She grabbed the handle next to her seat and pulled it as hard as she could. It refused to engage. The red light on the dashboard didn’t even appear. The rapid-fire beating of her heart drowned out everything except the truth. Someone had cut her brake lines and disabled her emergency brake. Someone wanted her to go off that cliff.

  The same person who had tried to run her over.

  Suddenly the headlights in her mirror barreled down on her, almost reaching her bumper before swinging up beside her.

  She couldn’t make out the car or the driver in the dark, and he swerved closer. As if in slow motion, she waved him off, but he just drew nearer. Was he trying to push her over the edge?

  She wouldn’t give him the chance.

  Leaning into the steering wheel, she swallowed the lump in her throat and pressed the gas. Her car gained a little ground before her pursuer caught up. His whole car seemed to be shaking with the effort to maintain the speed, but he kept his distance from her, hugging the far line as he whipped down the opposite lane.

  Risking a glance in his direction, she caught a waving hand and a familiar mane of shaggy blond hair.

  Luke.

  He motioned for her to roll down her window, but did she dare risk taking her hand off the wheel again? But what did she have to lose? She was dead either way.

  With one flick of her finger, the window automatically went down. Tears filled her eyes at the wind’s unrelenting assault.

  “Emer—cy. Bra—”

  The howling wind seemed to steal his words, but she tried to respond. “Broken!”

  He didn’t reply. Maybe he hadn’t heard her. She tried again but stopped short as a set of headlights glared right at them.

  “Car!”

  Luke shook his head and cupped a hand to his ear. Forgetting all about her sweaty palms, she jerked a hand in the direction of the truck heading right for him. At the same moment, the other driver leaned on his horn.

  Suddenly Luke was gone. Vanished as the truck careened past her, still honking his displeasure. But all she could hear was the no, no, no that crashed through her mind.

  She craned around as much as she could without losing sight of the road and caught a glimpse of the car behind her, just as the road swung wide. Overcorrecting for it, her back wheel caught the yard of gravel at the edge of the incline. The back end of her car whipped to the left. Then dangerously close to the cliff. Her heart stopped.

  This was it.

  She was going over.

  Suddenly she was back on the road, her speedometer pushing ninety.

  She wanted to cover her eyes or hold her breath or do anything to keep from seeing her inevitable end.

  Lord, let this be quick.

  “Run—way. —uck. Ramp!”

  Luke had returned to her side, and he pointed just to her left.

  A brown sign pointed to a gravel runaway-truck ramp. It was go
ing to total her car. And maybe her body. It was also her only hope.

  Heart in her throat, she jerked the wheel toward the exit, praying that she hadn’t chosen the wrong way out.

  Gravel crunched beneath her tires, the momentum of the car sending her flying forward.

  And then it all slammed to an end.

  *

  Luke skidded to a halt at the base of the ramp, grabbing his crutches and leaping from the car before it had fully stopped. He set the foot of his injured leg down, immediately regretting the decision. “Ahhh!” Fire shot through his knee at even the lightest pressure, but he swung his way toward the cloud of dust masking Mandy’s SUV. When he reached the rear bumper, he tossed his crutches down and used the vehicle to keep his balance as he hopped toward the driver’s door.

  There was no sign of movement from within, and Luke forced his voice to remain steady as he called out. “Mandy? Doc? Are you okay?”

  She didn’t respond, and he hopped a little faster, matching the rising tempo of his heartbeat. He hadn’t thought it could go any faster than it had when that truck had come flying around the curve and he’d had to slam on his brakes. He’d whipped behind Mandy only a fraction of a second before the big rig would have slammed into him.

  But the thought of what he might find inside her car had his heart hammering a painful tattoo.

  “Luke?”

  The voice was no more than a breath, and he thought he’d imagined it until he hopped another foot in her direction.

  “Luke? Are you okay?”

  The sudden quiet in the center of his chest echoed through his limbs, and he closed his eyes to capture the memory of that peace. “Fine. I’m fine. You?”

  There was a long pause. He couldn’t move fast enough to get to her door. Finally his fingers wrapped into the open window, and he pulled himself even with it, staring hard through the muddied air.

  Large brown eyes blinked twice before closing for a long moment. Her pink lips formed a tight line as though she was trying to pull herself together before speaking. The rest of her face was painted in a fine layer of grime.

  He reached for her cheek, but stopped short. She hadn’t moved any of her limbs yet, and he wasn’t about to touch her before he knew how badly she was injured. “Can you move your arms and legs?”

  Without opening her eyes, Mandy waved both hands and bounced both of her knees. A soul-crushing groan followed.

  “Where do you hurt?”

  “Everywhere?” She swung her head in his direction, and only then did he see the streaming red line above her right eye.

  Shrugging out of his long-sleeved overshirt, he pulled it inside out, wadded it up and pressed it against the gash. With his other thumb, he swiped at the dirt on her cheeks, looking for other abrasions. “You hit the steering wheel?”

  She started to nod but seemed only able to manage a grimace. “How bad is it?”

  “It could have been a whole lot worse.”

  She opened her eyes at that. Fear and something close to panic lurked in the depths there. They were on the same page. She’d dodged another bullet, another attempt on her life. But someone was more calculating and brazen than they had guessed. Whoever it was had access to Mandy and her car. And he wasn’t going away.

  After clearing her throat, Mandy reached up for the shirt pressed against her hairline. Their fingers brushed as she felt around for the right angle, and he was tempted to give them a comforting squeeze, until she took charge. “I’ve got it.”

  “Honestly, how much does your head hurt?”

  Without missing a tick, she replied, “Four out of ten.”

  He’d guess from the size of the gash and speed she’d been going, she was more likely at a six. So she either had a high tolerance for pain or a low tolerance for letting people help her. Probably the latter. Doctors were notoriously bad patients.

  “Do you have a flashlight?”

  Rooting around in her center console, she finally pulled out a roadside-ready light and handed it to him.

  “I was going to check your pupils—” he chuckled, pointing it at the ground and flicking it on “—but I think this thing would make you go blind.”

  “I’m all right. Maybe a mild concussion, but I don’t have any nausea or ringing in my ears. And my head really only hurts right here.” She tapped the shirt still stemming the flow of blood on her forehead. “I didn’t lose consciousness, and I have no memory loss.”

  “Clearly you remember all of your concussion training from school.”

  She squinted sternly at him, but a tiny smile broke the facade. “Yes. I’m fine. How did you know to follow me? How did you even find me?”

  “That puddle under your car wasn’t antifreeze. It was brake fluid. I had a hunch you’d skip the highway if your car was acting up, so I chased you down. Hope you don’t mind.”

  Her grin managed to reach another level. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He nodded and leaned back enough to get a better look at her car, the tires nearly submerged in the sand. “You’re still sinking. If you can move, we better get you out of here and call CHP.”

  The California Highway Patrol wouldn’t be too happy that their truck ramp had been used by a smallish SUV, but Luke had never been so glad to see a ramp as he was that night.

  Swinging her door open, he hopped on his good leg and offered her a hand to help her out of the car. When she landed on the shifting rocks, she stumbled against the car. Resting against its frame, she took several cleansing breaths.

  “Dizzy now?”

  “Just a little bit.” When she opened her eyes, she reached for his arm but stopped short. “How did you get over here? You can’t be walking on your own.” Her voice rose in volume and pitch with each word.

  He nodded toward the crutches leaning against the bumper. “I just hopped the last eight feet.”

  Her narrowed gaze homed in on his face. “Do you have any idea how badly you could have reinjured your knee? Sand, gravel, anything like this—” she stomped her foot on the yielding ground “—could mean the end of your full recovery. The end of your chances with the teams.”

  Her words hit just where she’d aimed, like a punch to his gut and a left hook to his jaw, for good measure. But he didn’t look away, even as he tightened the muscles keeping his injured leg elevated. “I wasn’t thinking. I saw your car slam to a stop, and…” His voice trailed off as he waved a hand toward his car, its headlights illuminating them from the base of the ramp.

  Mandy scrubbed her free hand down her face and rubbed at her eyes. “Thank you. Thank you for…” She finally looked away, long lashes shading the storm in her eyes. “Thank you for following me. For checking on me.”

  The rush of fulfillment that always came in the middle of a mission surged through his veins, and he smiled at her. “I’m glad I was there.”

  “Me, too. But promise me that you won’t be careless.”

  He hopped several times and twisted to pick up his crutches—making sure his knee was completely out of danger—shooting her a wry grin in the process. “Why, Doc, you sound like you really want to see me pass my navy physical.”

  “Of course, I do.” She began a slow, careful descent, passing him with ease. “I hate wasting my time.”

  *

  By the time they asked CHP to check for any evidence Mandy’s attacker had left behind on her car, said goodbye to the officers and arranged for the wrecker to pick up her vehicle, Mandy was ready for a hot bath and a full night of sleep. Neither seemed plausible, though. Even if she could get into a bath, she was pretty sure that she hurt too much to get out of it. And every time she closed her eyes, she felt that sickening lurch of her tire catching on the gravel, nearly flinging her off the road.

  “Do you want me to take you to the ER to get that checked out?”

  She jolted at the nearness of Luke’s voice, right next to her in the car, then groaned as she cradled her left arm across her chest.

  Everythin
g. Hurt.

  And that ache was beginning to surpass the stinging on her head. Flipping down the visor of the passenger seat in his car, she opened the mirror and pulled the shirt back to reveal the wound. The hair right above her forehead was matted and brown, but the red stripe wasn’t oozing. She prodded it with a tentative touch. “I don’t think so. It’s not very deep. I just want to go home and get some rest.”

  “Classic head wound.” Luke carefully positioned his injured leg below the steering wheel and closed the driver’s side door. “Those usually bleed like they’re going to kill you, even if they’re just a scratch.” He followed the motion of her hand with his eyes as she pulled her fingers away to confirm the bleeding had stopped.

  The tips were clear, save for the dirt caked in every knuckle and embedded under every nail. She looked as if she’d been in war rather than simply doused in sand and grime. Maybe she could swap the bath in favor of a hot shower.

  When she was clean and rested, then she could face whatever—whoever—was out there.

  “Where am I going?”

  She pointed him down the hill in the direction of her house, thankful for the telltale jerk as he tapped his brakes, pulling back onto the deserted highway. Still, her heart beat just a little harder with every swerve in the road and change in the slope.

  They sat in silence for several minutes, her eyes glued to the edge of the reach of his headlights.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “What, exactly?”

  He lifted his right shoulder and dipped his head to the far side. “I don’t know. Anything. Like when you knew you were in trouble. How you’re feeling.” A hitch in his voice suggested that he wasn’t any more eager to talk about her feelings than he was to lose the brakes in his car.

  Good.

  She didn’t want to dissect the emotions rolling over her wave after wave, like the never-ending Pacific surf. There were too many of them, and trying to pull them out and analyze them left her chest aching for air and her eyes stinging with unshed tears.

  No matter how involved in her situation he had become, Luke was still her patient. And she had to keep some semblance of distance between them.

  “Or about who might have sabotaged your car.”