Calm down. Calm down and think. “It’s okay, baby. Just hurry.”
No back door. No car. No plan of escape. Damn, Rhyder McLean. Before she met him, she always had a plan. She always had a backup plan!
After zipping the bag, Nicky hefted the strap over her shoulder then froze at the sound of scratching at the door.
“Get in the bathroom,” she whispered fiercely. “Now!”
She hesitated only long enough to make sure he did as directed. Alex raced for the bathroom at the back of the room. Nicky dropped the bag and lunged for the lamp. Yanking the cord from the socket, she gripped the metal base in a tight fist. Back pressed against the wall, she raised her arm as the door creaked open.
No hesitation. She swung the lamp.
A thick forearm shot out to block its progress. The blunt jolt to her wrist sent an arrow of immediate numbness through her hand and up her arm. The lamp flew from her grip, exploding in a shower of tinkling glass against the far wall. A thickly muscled bicep clamped around her upper body and pinned her arms to her side.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” McLean’s furious face swam inches from hers.
The blaze of adrenaline fizzled with recognition, leaving Nicky weak with relief, but relief evaporated when the words from the text flashed in her mind. She shoved free of him. He let her go, and she stumbled back several steps.
“Don’t yell at me.”
“Yell at you?” Blue fury blazed in his eyes. He bent to pick up a white paper bag he’d apparently dropped and kicked the door shut behind him with his foot. “I ought to spank your ass. You could’ve killed me.”
His raised voice was sure to bring the manager running, but his rage didn’t faze her. The flight response had given way to fight. She snorted and shook her numb hand, mostly to keep from slugging him. “I told you Jonathan would find us if we hooked up with you, and he has.”
That deflated McLean’s fury balloon. He stiffened and scanned the room. “Where’s Alex?”
“He’s in the bathroom.” When his shoulders relaxed subtly, a pinprick of guilt poked at her temper. “He’s fine.”
“Then what the hell are we talking about? I’ve only been gone ten minutes.”
Nicky marched across the room and picked up the phone from the floor. She spun around and stomped back, holding it out. “Jonathan sent a text.”
McLean snatched the phone from her hand and read the taunting message. “Shit.”
“Yeah. Shit! Now do you understand? He has people everywhere.”
He jerked up his head. “Not at Global Shield.”
She pointed a stiff finger at the phone. “That says you’re wrong.”
He pulled the radio from his pocket and cued Lyndsay. “You need to get over here. We have an issue.”
“An issue, he says.” Grumbling beneath her breath, Nicky swept up her bag and tossed it onto the bed. With a deep breath, she made her voice as even as possible under the circumstances. “Alex. Come out, baby. Everything’s okay.”
The bathroom door creaked open. Alex’s face was pale, and his eyes were wide with fear. He stood stiffly with his arms hanging at his sides. “Is the bad man here?”
Oh, God. His simple question pierced her heart like a poison-tipped spear and rushed stinging pain to all of her extremities. Helpless tears stung at her eyes, and her throat closed on the need to howl out in rage and grief. She crossed the room in four hurried strides and dropped to her knees. Clutching Alex close, she dipped her head and rested her forehead against his.
For five years she’d held her own. She’d kept them safe and built them a life. But this… Oh, Dad. What am I going to do?
“No, Alex. The bad man isn’t here.” McLean’s deep voice spoke close behind her. “You have my word. I won’t let him near you, ever.”
The instant relaxation of Alex’s body accompanied the subtle nodding of his head. Nicky lifted her face as McLean crouched beside her. The understanding compassion in his eyes brought a renewed wash of tears. She shook her head helplessly.
A knock sounded at the door. Both she and Alex flinched. A warm hand brushed over her back.
“That’ll be Lyndsay.” McLean held out his radio. “Why don’t you help me verify that, sport?”
Alex pulled back from Nicky’s embrace and stepped away. She shuddered at the loss of his clinging arms even as she studied his precious face. Pale but dry-eyed, he angled his chin in a determined slant.
“What do I do?”
McLean handed him the radio. “Just identify yourself as BB and ask for verification.”
While Alex cued the radio, McLean leaned close and spoke quietly in her ear. “It’s going to be okay, Mama Bear.”
Nicky shifted her head to meet McLean’s gaze. He was so close, the minty wash of his warm breath filled her senses. Beneath lowered brows, sharp, blue intensity glittered in his eyes as he cupped her chin and studied her face. A low rumble of empathy vibrated in his throat. His shoulders loosened and his eyes softened.
“You have my word, Nicky. I won’t let anything or anyone hurt Alex.” The roughened pad of his thumb captured a lone teardrop as it tumbled from her lashes. He brushed the tear from her cheek, and his feather-light touch left a streak of coolness behind. “Or you.”
Her belly muscles contracted with the need to press closer, to crawl into his muscled arms and claim the promise of safety inherent in his rock-solid presence. An answering need sizzled in his darkening eyes, but before either of them could act on the madness of the moment, the radio crackled to life.
McLean pulled away but shifted his hand to brush his fingers down her ponytail. “Your hair is still wet. Take a few minutes, then we’ll talk.”
No evidence of their earlier sensual connection existed during their talk. All business once more, McLean laid down the law. In the end, the heated conversation produced yet another compromise. He stubbornly discarded her argument when Nicky claimed she and Alex would be better off on their own, and since she believed in being honest with herself, she couldn’t disagree. Jonathan had the resources and contacts to find them, no matter how they traveled. Alone, they might present a smaller target, but at the sacrifice of several extra sets of eyes, not to mention muscles.
Then there was Alex.
His simple question about the bad man had rattled her worse than any experience of her life. Considering some of the things she’d faced in the past five years, that was saying something. Her little boy trusted McLean to keep him safe from the bad man. For that reason alone, she agreed to stay with McLean until Jonathan was caught.
Before they left, Lyndsay attached McLean’s phone to the bumper of a northbound eighteen-wheeler belonging to a driver he’d spoken to in the motel’s café the night before. “To muddy the waters if Everson is locked on to the signal,” he explained with a grim smile.
Nicky called Devin and Grace from a random truck stop to let them know when she and Alex would be arriving and to explain they wouldn’t be alone. Devin hadn’t asked any questions once she mentioned Global Shield, but he’d have found out all he could about one Rhyder McLean before they stepped foot on Maxwell property. Grace had said they’d talk when Nicky got there.
A dark and cloudy dawn greeted them as they set off for the west. The second in the line of winter storms McLean had mentioned closed around them before they’d traveled fifty miles. Despite nearly zero visibility, he insisted they continue on. Only when they reached Maxwell Ranch could they proceed to the next step of their plan.
The slowed pace clawed at Nicky’s nerves. Freaked out at how easily Jonathan had tracked them down, even if only digitally, she was desperate to end his reign of terror. She owed it to Alex and her father, and stopping Jonathan once and for all was the only way she and Alex would ever have the chance at a normal life. The concept rocked her to the core. When had she begun to believe in the possibility of a life without fear? Didn’t matter. Now that she had, she was determined to turn the possibility into reality. Before
that could happen, however, they had to survive.
Chapter Fourteen
After Jonathan’s text message, tensions ran high. Ever vigilant against a tail, Rhy set a deliberately random course. Always heading westward, they switched back and forth between interstates and country roads with no recognizable pattern. The green hills of the northeast slowly gave way to the endless agricultural fields of the Midwest.
Alex was unusually quiet at first, but as the day passed, his normal buoyancy returned. Once again, he didn’t ask what was happening. No doubt the time would come when he would have questions, and Rhy didn’t envy the task Nicky faced informing her son that the bad man who frightened him so was his father.
Unlike Alex, Nicky couldn’t seem to relax. Despite Rhy’s diversionary tactics, she remained jittery, studying every vehicle they passed as if suspect in her mind. By that evening, the constant strain had left her dangerously pale. Rhy cast a glance her way and swore under his breath. She sat with her hands clenched in her lap. Tension stretched her lips in a flat line, and even in the low light from the dash, dark smudges were visible beneath her eyes. Making a quick decision, he exited the highway for the well-lit truck stop and attached motel.
“We’re stopping?” She pivoted her head as he pulled into the parking lot.
“I’m tired.” He shrugged one shoulder as he lied. He’d planned to travel at least another hundred miles before they stopped for the evening, but she was wound up tighter than a spring. If she didn’t get some rest, she was going to snap.
“Liar.”
His gaze cut to her.
One finely shaped eyebrow arched over eyes full of accusation. “You’re stopping because I’m a paranoid mess, but I don’t need you to coddle me, McLean.”
If only he could. After all she’d been through, Nicky deserved to be coddled more than any woman he’d ever known. If circumstances were different, he’d sweep her away to someplace private where he could pamper her until those shadows in her exotic eyes disappeared. His body tightened with urgency at the thought of replacing the bruising shadows with sated passion.
Christ. What was he thinking? Circumstances weren’t different. He had a job to do, and she was a client. The mental reminder helped to cool the rush of heat his musings produced. He pulled the car to a stop beside the gas pumps and killed the engine before turning to meet her gaze. “A little rest will do you good.”
Nicky’s eyes flashed with defensiveness even as she slanted her chin in a challenging angle. “I’m perfectly capable of continuing on and won’t be accused of slowing you down.”
Rhy shook his head at her echo of his angry words from their argument in the Hawleys’ parlor. What was it with women? Shit. Even exhausted and stressed beyond reason, they never forgot a thing.
“Cut me some slack, Nicky. I’d just discovered the identity of my brother’s killer. I was pissed.”
Immediately, the starch went out of her. Her shoulders slumped as empathy flooded her tired eyes.
“Jesus.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and battled the guilt ripping at his insides. Before they’d left the motel this morning, he’d asked Tim to check out Everson’s documents, but the more Rhy got to know her, the more he was convinced they had to be false. His blind need to repay his debt to her prick of an ex had set the dangerous game they played in motion. If anyone should be sorry, it was Rhy. “You aren’t slowing us down. We’ll get an early start in the morning and make up the time.”
He turned away from her to check on Alex in the backseat. The boy sat silently, his wide eyes wary. Maybe Rhy was more tired than he thought. He hadn’t meant to upset either of them, but he’d apparently done a fine job of it.
He offered Alex a smile. “I’m pretty thirsty. How about you?”
Alex nodded.
Rhy peeled a ten dollar bill from his money clip and passed it over. “Why don’t you and your mom go pick us up a couple of drinks while I fill up the car? I’ll check us into a room when you get back.”
Alex scrambled to unbuckle his belt and opened his door. Nicky said nothing as she exited the car to take his hand. Rhy gathered his weapon from the pocket of the door. He slipped it into the back waistband of his jeans as he rounded the hood to the pumps. His gaze followed Nicky and her son as they crossed the lot and disappeared into the truck stop store.
“Good going, McLean,” he grumbled harshly. Shaking his head in self-disgust, he unhooked the radio from his belt and cued Lyndsay. “We’re calling it an early day.”
The radio crackled. “They doin’ okay?”
“The tension is showing.” Rhy jammed a hand through his hair. On all of them. “Did you reach Tim?”
“Yeah. He’s got the information you requested. He’ll fax the report and send over your new phone as soon as I give him a location.”
Rhy eyed the small motel the truck stop included, but decided against it. They were only twenty miles from Amarillo, but before he could suggest Lyndsay search out something closer to the city, and a little less shabby, the doors of the store burst open. Nicky clutched at Alex’s hand as she moved at a near run toward Rhy and the car.
“Shit. We’ve got trouble.” Rhy reached for his weapon and palmed it at his thigh as he hurried forward.
“I’m on my way.” Lyndsay’s voice answered from the radio.
Rhy’s gaze scanned back and forth, charting the lot and storefront. Nothing stood out to account for Nicky’s alarm, but something had spooked her. Her eyes had widened, stark and full of fear, in a face as pale as a marble headstone.
Rhy didn’t bother asking what was wrong. “The keys are in the ignition. Start the car and buckle up.” He stepped around them, putting himself between her and Alex and whatever had scared her. Thumbing off the safety, he continued to scan the area until the car engine purred to life. He backed to the driver’s door and slid inside.
“What’s happened?” He slapped the radio into her hand and shoved the car into gear. They peeled from the lot to the sound of squealing tires.
Her voice shook with emotion. “The day of my father’s funeral, there was a man on the airport shuttle.”
Rhy whipped his head toward her as he accelerated onto the highway entrance. She’d never mentioned their meeting the day of her father’s funeral. He’d assumed she simply hadn’t recognized him, but if she’d made the connection…
Nicky’s knuckles went white as she clutched the radio, and her eyes held a touch of wildness. “He kept watching me. I think I just saw him.”
Two hours later, Rhy shut the bathroom door behind him and padded through the suite to the desk. His new phone sat in its charger. He picked up the envelope containing Tim’s report and took a seat near the balcony doors. Music from the kids’ movie Nicky had turned on for Alex jingled from the second bedroom.
Tonight’s five-star accommodations were a far cry from the roadside motel he’d planned on, but the look of horror on Nicky’s face when Lyndsay called in to say the bald truck driver from Iowa had checked out had sealed the deal. She needed a break from the tension of the past few days. Some of that coddling they’d discussed was definitely in order. An hour or so soaking in the suite’s Jacuzzi tub was just what the doctor ordered.
Rhy shifted his gaze to the closed bathroom door. The solid, wooden panel was no defense against the images that clicked past his mind’s eye in a sultry slide show. Warm water and steam. Naked, slick curves. Sleek calves leading to firm thighs. Dusky rose nipples peeking through a froth of bubbles. A shadowy triangle of dark hair, guarding the entry to paradise.
He dragged a hand over his face as he dropped his gaze to the envelope in his lap. Fuck. He’d faced down terrorists intent on his destruction with less anxiety than Tim’s report, but in battle, the picture was black and white. Good and bad, right and wrong, were easier to discern when facing an enemy carting heavy weaponry.
With Nicky there was no black and white. The colors were varied and blurred—and fucking surprising. Since Pamela, he’d s
teered clear of sex except to slake his body’s needs. The world was full of women who weren’t interested in long-term, and that suited him fine. A quick screw, and he was out the door. He didn’t hang around, didn’t get involved. Sex was safe. Relationships weren’t.
Getting to know a woman inevitably led to feeling, something he’d avoided for the past four years. But trapped in close quarters with Nicky, the protective wall of indifference he’d built following his ex-wife’s and daughter’s funerals had begun to crumble, exposing more raw emotions than he’d experienced in years. Skepticism and distrust had slowly given way to liking and respect, to caring and a sense of protectiveness that had nothing to do with the mission. And the change scared him shitless.
Less than a week ago Rhy had been convinced Nicky was all he despised in a woman, but the black heart he expected didn’t match up with her irresistible mix of strength, determination, and vulnerability.
Senator Hawley had called her loyal and honorable, and with the exception of Everson’s documents, Rhy had seen nothing to contradict the claim. Nicky’s forthrightness and bravery tugged at his mind while her body called to his like a siren song and left him hard, but what if he was wrong?
He’d fallen for Pamela, hard and fast, and had nearly been destroyed when it all went to shit. A smart man didn’t repeat the mistakes of the past, and in the end, avenging Brian’s death should be his only concern. The General’s daughter and her son were a means to an end. His undeniable attraction for her, his affection for her little boy, shouldn’t matter, but they did. Damn it, they did.
Rhy tore open the envelope. Tension he hadn’t realized he carried dropped from his shoulders as he scanned the information Tim had included with Everson Plastics’ financial records and Devin Maxwell’s background check. When he finished, he lifted his gaze to the bathroom door. Innocent. Like a celebratory chant, the welcome verdict repeated in his head.
He leaned forward to prop his forearms on his thighs and stared out the balcony window, the pages dangling from his fingers. Gut-deep relief grappled with guilt and uncertainty. When had his bitterness gained the upper hand over instinct? In spite of Everson’s lifesaving shot in Afghanistan, Rhy had never trusted the man. Yet he’d let the bitter lessons of the past blind him, sucking him into a situation far worse than the betrayal of a woman he’d thought loved him but hadn’t when push came to shove.
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