by Tori Carson
He needed sleep. His mara-sex-thon with Channy had been phenomenal, but not restful. While she had caught catnaps here and there, he’d been too paranoid to shut his eyes. Foolish, but the way of things.
He couldn’t look at his bed without remembering her there. Or the kitchen table for that matter. If he was smart, which he’d already proven otherwise, he wouldn’t have been fucking an NBIA chief’s daughter. That took a special kind of stupidity. He should rip the sheets off his bed and wash them immediately, instead of savoring her scent and allowing it to drive him crazy. He was even ashamed of thinking of their weekend together as fucking or just sex. She wasn’t like that, wasn’t meant for that. Damn it.
* * * *
What a night or four. Visions of dead women haunted her sleep. She couldn’t stop thinking about Reese and their weekend together. If she concentrated, she could still feel Reese’s hands touching her. There was no doubt about it, though—as messed up as her brain was, her heart had been the biggest casualty.
She wanted to help Reese. Take away that sad glint in his eyes. She now understood the suspicious, distant look he wore when he thought she wasn’t looking. It wasn’t fair that he was so alone, afraid to get close to anyone. He was a good guy and she wanted him, or at least a chance with him. He needed to get over his pig-headedness and give them a chance.
Every time she woke up in a cold sweat with horrific images of bloody bodies being tortured before her eyes, she would push them away with thoughts of Reese. In those wee hours of Monday morning, she had hastily cobbled together a scheme to eke out a few precious moments of freedom and time to confront Reese. As soon as she got to school, she intended to break the copier. Instinct told her that Reese wouldn’t be the tech to answer the call—he wanted to keep his distance—but it was worth a try. If that didn’t work, she had a backup plan.
She had played Sid perfectly. Calling him at six a.m. had been cruel, but effective. “Sid, where are you? You’re gonna make me late!” Her voice was overly perky yet still annoyed.
“Chantel? It’s…six o’clock! Your school doesn’t start until eight forty. I checked.”
Yeah, being the boss’s daughter had probably saved her a tongue lashing. “Oh, I see. You’re one of those people.” Loathing oozed from every syllable. “Teaching is a cake walk. You only work nine to three—summers and holidays off. How hard could it be? Well, let me tell you something, buster. I bet I put in more hours than you do. I start my day at—” She had her speech memorized, but he interrupted.
“Chantel?”
“Seven a.m. at the latest. I have meetings and—”
“Chantel?”
Grinning at the frustration in his voice, she finally allowed him to speak. It was either that or laugh and that would have blown the whole effect.
“Chantel, I get it. You want to get to work and I’m delaying you. I’ll be there asap.”
He sounded tired and she felt bad, but making it inconvenient as hell was necessary.
Her car was sitting in the circular drive. She got in the driver’s seat and waited. When Sid pulled up, he parked his department car in front of hers, blocking her exit.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked in exasperation.
“Waiting and waiting and waiting for you to finally show up. I’m late, Sid.” She made sure she sounded frustrated and maybe a touch angry.
“Get in my car and we’ll get moving.”
She knew he was minding his manners because of who her father was and she hoped her luck would continue. “I waited for you to escort me. Don’t insult me by refusing to let me drive my own car, Sid.” She blinked, bringing tears to her eyes. “I need to feel like I still have some control over my life. I gave up my house. I moved in with my father. Do you have any idea how hard that was? I’m not going to do anything stupid. Even though I’m late, I waited for you. Come on, give me this. You’ll be right behind me the whole time.”
“Chantel, I could lose my job,” he argued.
“Sid, you told my father you would escort me, not drive me. He won’t fire you for doing exactly what you said you would do.” She looked at her watch. “Seriously, I have a meeting and I’m late already. I have to go. Please, let me drive my own car. I promise to go straight to school and straight back here.”
Eventually, Sid caved in. He practically drove on her bumper the entire way and he walked her to her classroom. Once her dad found out that she’d driven, she knew Sid was in for an ass chewing. As long as nothing bad happened today, she’d have a strong argument for doing the same thing tomorrow.
Phase two hadn’t gone as easily. Both Sid and her father had shown up in her classroom later that afternoon demanding to know why she was still there. By Wednesday, all she received was a disgruntled phone call asking when she planned to leave. They were getting used to her working late and their heavy workload demanded their time.
Thursday, she hadn’t heard a peep. Hopefully, tonight would go as smoothly. All she needed were a few hours alone with Reese, or so she prayed as she snuck out to her car and drove to his house.
Her hands started to shake as she sat outside. His car was in the drive. This was it. What if she was wrong? What if he really didn’t want a relationship with her? What if her imagination had twisted things, warped them to match her fantasy? Maybe he enjoyed his life. Enjoyed boffing a new woman every week. What if he was with one now?
Wimpy Chantel wanted to run away. Crazy Chantel wanted to break down the door and let the flavor of the week have a piece of her mind. Semi-Sane Chantel won out. Very calmly, she knocked politely on the door, though her heart was pounding loud enough that knocking probably wasn’t necessary. Hell, everyone for a city block could probably hear it.
She had run a hand over the hood of his car. It was still warm. He had to be here. Why wasn’t he answering the door? Did he have someone with him? In for a penny, in for dessert, she might as well peek through the windows.
Before she did more than turn, Reese had snaked an arm around her waist, brought her into the house and shut the door.
“What the hell are you doing here?” His sexy voice was sharp and accusative.
He seemed taller than she remembered. More masculine, more loud, more everything. Where was the soft, mushy man of her dreams who’d rushed into her arms, feathering kisses along her face, as he told her how happy he was to see her? “I’m fine, Reese, thank you for asking. How are you?” She answered his outburst as calmly as she could. She’d been told that sarcasm was her true medium.
This wasn’t going right. He was supposed to be thrilled that she’d escaped. Pleased that she’d taken the initiative. Not barking at her. Maybe he did have a woman stashed away.
“Channy, doesn’t your father have a lick of sense? He should’ve kept you under lock and key, not allowed you to run around getting into even more trouble.”
“Thank you, I’d love to sit down. I’ve been on my feet all day.” On her way to the couch she stealthily glanced into his bedroom. No woman on the bed anyway. “I’m so glad you want to discuss my dad. I must admit, I’m curious as to how you two met.”
“Woman, have you not heard a word I’ve said?”
“I’m listening. Come sit beside me.” She patted the cushion next to her. “Let’s talk.”
Teague had known he was getting company long before the knock had sounded. His security system had alerted him the instant the perimeter had been breached. He still couldn’t believe that Channy was back in his home. He didn’t like the way his heart had skipped a beat at the sight of her. He shouldn’t want to see her again and yet he did.
Four nights had gone by and all he’d thought about was Channy. His dreams were pure erotic fantasies, but his nightmares were hell. Sometimes Mr. G. caught them together. Other times the Weasel found Channy alone and vulnerable. Neither could be allowed to happen.
“Why are you here alone? Why aren’t you locked away in some safe house?” He realized he was digging his fingers into
her arms and he forced his grip to loosen. This new self-assured Channy, while she was sexy as fuck, had to go.
What the hell was her father thinking? Teague wanted to find him and beat some sense into him.
“Why did you come back to my house after you dropped me off?” she demanded, not seeming to care that he was furious.
“What do you mean?” He cocked his head. “Sshh,” he ordered. A faint blinging sound was coming from down the hall. “Is anyone with you?”
“No. Is anyone with you?”
Her question surprised him. What an odd thing to ask. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her into the back bedroom. At a touch of his hand, the flat-screen TV turned into a computer monitor showing the front of the house. “Shit.”
Channy chuckled. “That’s cool,” she said, looking at the TV. “Did you forget you ordered pizza?”
“I didn’t order pizza,” Teague growled and pushed her toward the closet. He knelt down and removed a section of the flooring, revealing a security pad. Teague input the code and the door to his safe popped open, offering an array of weapons. He took them all. After he punched another code into the pad, a rope ladder dropped down. “Up you go.”
“Uhm, I don’t climb. I’m afraid of heights.”
“Not a good time, darlin’.” He came up behind her and smacked her perfect butt. “Up.”
The doorbell rang and a male voice shouted, “Pizza!”
“I can’t do it.” Panic filled her eyes. “Up isn’t good for me. I get the shakes, vertigo.” Her voice quivered slightly. “You name it.”
She was serious. Son of a bitch. He couldn’t afford to have her freeze up while they were running along the roof’s edge. It was too risky. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Too much time is going by. Seconds count. “Coming,” he shouted back, hoping to gain them some time.
He slipped on night goggles and peered out. They’d expect him to go out the back. With his preferred method of escape useless to him, he chose the only one left. Out the side. Silently, he slid the bedroom window open and scanned the surrounding area.
“Crawl out the window and lie flat on your belly. Don’t move and don’t talk.”
She nodded and followed his instructions.
Behind them, he heard wood splintering and loud banging. “Alive, G. wants ’em alive!” Great, if the ring leader had to shout reminders to his crew, it meant that he had a bunch of hotheaded, trigger-happy yahoos after him.
Chantel about jumped out of her skin when Reese’s body partially covered hers.
“To the right about ten feet is a dog house. Crawl inside it. Make yourself small, I’m coming in too,” he whispered in her ear.
She flipped her purse over her shoulder and did as she’d been told.
This spy crap looks a lot more fun on the big screen. The burrs on the ground were grinding their way into her wrists and forearms, making it difficult to keep going. Angry men, shouting and breaking things, urged her on. Once inside, she curled up tight to the side trying to make room for Reese’s larger body.
Half in and half out, Reese moved aside a board. He pulled her down to his level and whispered, “Go through. You’ll come out in the neighbor’s yard. Stay flat on the ground, near the perimeter of the fence and head toward the far side of the house.”
When she hesitated, Reese gave her a push. “Faster,” he ordered, blocking her body between his and the fence.
Chantel scooted and crawled faster, thankful that this yard had more grass and fewer burrs. Lights lit up the kitchen a few yards away. A couple and their young kids were eating dinner. It was wrong to possibly bring danger into their lives. She wanted to stop and go back, but Reese was there blocking her retreat. “Keep going.”
She wanted to tell him no, but the longer they stayed there, the more danger they were all in so she kept going. Halfway to the house on the far side, Reese stopped her and went alone. He peered between the bars of the wrought iron fence. He stayed at ground level and somehow worked the latch allowing the gate to swing forward enough to slide through. Long moments passed before he motioned her to him.
“One more house to go. Stay tight near the shrubs. They have a yip-yap dog so keep to the outside and be as quiet as possible. Once we get to the sidewalk, we’ll dip around the corner out of view. Move fast. If they have night goggles, we’re exposed. Go.”
His breath on her ear made her quiver inside. How could he turn her insides into goo when they were running for their lives? Her focus should be on getting away, not getting into bed. She noticed that he had a pistol in one hand and considered drawing hers, but she was having trouble crawling. Apparently it was a learned skill. As she neared a window, she heard growling and a bark. Instantly, she froze, not wanting to draw the dog’s attention.
A pissed off “Get moving” startled her into motion. The farther she went, she realized the dog was playing with someone inside. She wondered how many times Reese had traveled this route, preparing for danger. Chantel had been right all along. She was in over her head, but it had nothing to do with Reese’s seduction skills and everything to do with his commando abilities. She wasn’t cut out for this.
It took at least three years to cross in front of his neighbor’s house. Her pants were ruined, her wrists bloody and she was willing to acknowledge that being with him was dangerous. And exciting. Other than being in his bed, she’d never felt more alive.
* * * *
“Sir, have you heard from Ms. Donley?” He cringed.
“No. Report!” Donley barked.
“I’ve been monitoring her cell phone using GPS. Once it switched towers, I was immediately notified. It’s heading in the opposite direction from your home.”
“Can you pinpoint the location?”
“Yes, sir. I checked the address and it’s one of ours.” Sid gave him the exact location and waited. He couldn’t out and out ask his boss what was going on, but he was curious as hell. In the background, he heard the slapping of computer keys and a familiar grunt of frustration.
“Send in the nearest unit. Have her picked up and placed in protective custody.”
“Sir?”
“Have you forgotten how to follow orders, Sid?”
“No, sir.”
* * * *
Teague breathed a sigh of relief once they were inside the storage lot. It should be smooth sailing from here. He reached under the bumper and found the hidden key. Good ole American muscle. Pre-computer shit. No satellite navigation. No Big Brother shutting off the ignition or locking the doors at their whim. Just good old-fashioned horsepower and lots of it. The throaty exhaust rumble made his heart zing.
He looked over at Channy and felt oddly at peace. It made no sense. They were both running for their lives and yet he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather have by his side. She brought him a deep down comfort he didn’t remember ever experiencing before.
Sirens were filling the area causing alarm bells to ring in his brain. “Did your father know you were coming to see me?” He made an effort to sound casual.
“No! He’d have had my head on a platter. Why do you ask?”
“I’m wondering how they keep tracking me down,” he answered, taking off the kid gloves. She had to know what they were up against.
“Who is ‘they’, Reese?” she asked, looking out of the back window of the car.
Teague shoved her head down below the top of the seat. “The less you know the better, Channy.”
“Why on earth do you think my dad would give anyone information about you?” She stared at him, clearly surprised. “You’re crazy.”
“Probably,” he muttered, as he drove down a side street bringing the front of his house into view. He pointed to the cars lining the street in front of his house. “Unless I miss my guess, those plain Jane cars with the lights in the grill belong to your father’s men. How would they know to come running just minutes after I get ambushed? I didn’t call them. Did you?”
She shook her head. �
��Maybe they were tracking my car. I didn’t think about that. But what does it matter? We need the help.”
“Somebody set me up. Again.” He looked at her pointedly. “If it wasn’t your father, it was someone in his camp. I did a bit of checking. He’s been the regional chief in every location they’ve moved me to. Every one of my handlers, in three different states, answered to him. The safeguards surrounding my identity hinged on the Chief of Staff limiting access. My identity and location should have been buried behind so many red flags no one could find information on me. I don’t believe in coincidence.”
“I don’t know.” She looked confused. “Obviously, if a neighbor had noticed something off, they would have called the police. But my dad isn’t the one tipping them off. That’s just crazy.”
“We’re being followed. Channy, if you’re in on this, tell me now,” he warned her. He couldn’t find it in himself to believe that she would betray him, but he wouldn’t put it past Donley to use her in some way, to tell her one thing while he was planning something else.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. My dad was probably monitoring the GPS in my car. I should have thought about that before I came over.”
“You’ve gotta be carrying a tracking device. No one could know this car and no one saw us get away.”
He rolled down the window. “Give me your purse,” he ordered.
“So you can throw it out the window? No way.”
“Don’t fucking argue with me, Channy. These guys play for keeps.” As if on cue, a dark-colored sedan pulled up beside them and opened fire, spraying bullets at the tires. Teague pitched the car toward them, ruining their shot. Thhe sedan bounced a curb and was forced to slow.
Teague dragged her head back into his lap and searched the floorboard for her purse. With the sedan maneuvering for another shot, he hopped the median and nailed the gas. Whipping the ass-end around, they sped off in the opposite direction.