Reluctant Hero

by Debra Webb

  Becca’s lips were moving, although he couldn’t make out the words through his battered ears and torrent of guilt. Dumbfounded, he watched her reach out and close Alan’s eyes.

  “Parker!” she cried. Her smaller hands shoved at his shoulder. “What do we do?”

  He heard her, barely. It didn’t matter really. He didn’t have an answer. Might as well let fate come to him.

  She caught his face and forced him to meet her gaze, held him so close his nose brushed hers. “Parker. Help me. I don’t know what to do.”

  It might have been the tremor in her hands, or the way she said his name, but something finally cut through the shock. He leaned forward and kissed her, fast and hard, startling them both.

  “No sense dying with regrets.” As a romantic gesture, it didn’t qualify, though her lips tilted into a bewildered smile. It gave him the hope he needed.

  Lurching to his feet, he said a quick prayer for Alan while his mind leaped into tactical mode. Everything had been in that vehicle. His go-bag, her suitcase, her electronics and his were ash. They were down to the cell phone in his pocket, the pistol in his ankle holster and the torn-up clothing they were wearing.

  Outside, the SUV continued to burn. People were inching closer, cell phones held high as they took pictures and video of the flames dancing and smoke billowing up into the blue sky above. Still a bit dazed and half deaf, the coppery sting of blood in his mouth, he understood the fob must have triggered the explosion. He tossed it into the debris scattered across the floor. Maybe it would help the police.

  The safe room upstairs beckoned, but he’d stripped it of anything that would help them now. Hiding up there while they waited for help meant putting more lives in the line of fire. And for what? This was his fight. “We have to get out of here.” Any one of those bystander phones might already have caught a glimpse of them.

  He drew her down the hallway, back toward the front door of the building, and checked for anyone keeping watch outside. He caught sight of a slender man with dark hair leaning against a parked car, smoking a cigarette. He bore a close resemblance to the sentry at the awards gala. While Parker watched, the man’s gaze drifted lazily from the scene of the explosion, up to the roof and then down the block.

  “Who is that?” Becca’s breath whispered over his cheek.

  “No idea,” he replied. “I’m guessing he’s not on our side.” He ushered her away from the slash of light from the front lobby door, into the shadows of the stairwell.

  Every second counted and each minute felt separated, standing apart from the minute before it, the minute that would follow. They had to move, to hide or they’d both be dead by the end of the day. Noticing the scratches on the backs of her hands and the small burns on her clothing, he was furious for his errors that had painted a target on her head. It had been a narrow miss.

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.” She put her hand in his and kept pace with him as they ran back upstairs.

  At the top floor, he turned toward the service hallway and entered the code for the roof access. He paused long enough to send a text message to the office. The short sentence was a code for his assistant. Though it was possible the assassin had managed to track him through his phone, it was a risk they had to take if they were going to get away.

  He slid his phone into a pocket and zipped it shut. He eased open the door to the roof, relieved they weren’t greeted by a shower of bullets, and closed it again quickly. Reaching for her, he tipped up her face to the faint light coming through the screen at the top of the door. He stroked his thumbs over her cheeks, wiping away the smudges and turning her face side to side. Other than the shallow scrapes along her jawline and under her ear, she looked all right.

  “You can see okay, right?”

  “Yes,” she said, her auburn eyebrows knitting together over the wary gaze that seemed to be her default way of viewing the world. “Can you?”

  He grinned. “I’m good. We’re going straight out this door and over the edge. Fast as you can move. Stay low, don’t stop and know I’ll catch you.”

  “You can fly now?”

  “I wish. There’s a balcony. From there, we work our way out of the neighborhood.” And eventually he’d get her out of the city and out of harm’s way. It was an argument they could have later, assuming they survived the next few minutes. “Ready?”

  “One second.” She fisted her hands in the panels of his jacket and pulled him close. Her lips met his with an urgency that shot through his veins like a bolt of lightning.

  He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her flush against his body. At last, he indulged the fantasy of claiming her mouth. Her lips parted and his tongue stroked across hers. The pleasure and heat wove a spell around him. He ran his hands up over her ribs, his thumbs following the soft curve of her breasts.

  He was seeing fireworks behind his closed eyelids, but the sound track of heavy boots thundering on the stairs brought him slamming back to reality. Breaking the kiss, her taste lingering on his tongue, he pushed open the door and they ran.

  He kept his body between her and the door, sheltering her until the last possible second. Surging around her, he went over the roof first. He heard her swear when he dropped out of sight and suppressed a chuckle. He liked her creative vocabulary.

  Landing, he turned and looked up in time to watch her make the leap. Grit, determination and blind faith were a heady combination, he thought, catching her, letting her slide down his body until they were both safe on the balcony of the second-floor condo. “Nice job.”

  “Thanks. I dated a stuntman for a while,” she said.

  Part of his brain mulled that over with a foreign twitch of jealousy as he guided her to the balcony on the next building. From there he followed her down a large cypress tree as easily as descending a ladder. Hearing a loud crack, he looked up as a bullet tore through the branch he’d just left.

  Glancing back to the rooftop of his building, he saw the man with the scar raise a rifle. Parker ducked around the trunk of the tree, covering Becca. Two more gunshots ripped through the air, biting into the tree trunk, followed by the welcome sound of emergency sirens.

  * * *

  BECCA, WRAPPED IN Parker’s protective embrace, felt his body jerk and heard him groan while they waited out the shooter. “Are you hit?”

  “He missed me.”

  She suspected a lie, but this wasn’t the time to debate it. “Where to?” The tidy courtyard garden between the buildings seemed as big and open as a football field now that someone was shooting at them.

  His embrace eased, his hands light on her shoulders as he squared her in the direction he wanted her to go. “Through the gate, over the fence and across the next street. I can borrow a van from the inn on the next block.”

  Borrow. She wondered about his definition. “All right.”

  “Run and don’t look back.”

  She wasn’t about to make that promise. “Then you’d better keep up, because I’m not leaving you behind.”

  Before he could argue, she grabbed his hand and used every ounce of the adrenaline coursing through her body—from that searing kiss and the outrageous danger—to get through the gate. Remembering her days on various movie sets, she released him just long enough to get over the fence. Hand in hand, they raced across the street and moved from one bit of cover to the next as they headed for the low-rise inn right on the ocean.

  Although the bullets had stopped, Parker wasn’t behaving as if the immediate threat was over. “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  “Keep moving,” he said, his voice tight. “We’re almost safe.”

  She glanced up at his smudged face, relieved his eyes were alert when he met her gaze. She squeezed his hand, grateful he’d pulled himself away from the abyss that had nearly dragged him under when he saw
Alan’s body.

  Becca promised herself she could vomit later. Not now when it could slow them down. “Your phone is ringing,” she said when she heard the classic rock riff emanating from his pocket.

  He waited to check it until they were safely inside the rear lobby of the inn. He swore as a faint smile ghosted across his lips. “Change of plans.”

  She tried to get a peek at the screen, and got distracted by the blood on his hand. “You’re hurt. How bad is it?”

  “It’ll wait,” he said. “One more sprint and we’re out of here. Can you do that?”

  “No borrowed van?”

  “We’ve been upgraded,” he said with a bewildered expression.

  She suspected running from an assassin didn’t often go as planned, and this twist appeared to be in their favor. “I’m game if you are,” she replied. “Lead the way.”

  She tucked herself under his injured arm as they walked out of the inn, marveling at how quickly opinions could change. This morning, she’d been willing to cause him any harm to get away. Now a part of her ached knowing he’d been hurt protecting her. When he’d asked her about trust, her affirmative answer was pure instinct. She’d made a gut call in the heat of the moment, but she knew when the dust settled the answer would be the same. Despite all the things she should still be furious about, she did trust him.

  A nice bonus, considering she was already addicted to his hot, possessive kisses.

  She noticed the wince of pain when he broke into a jog as they reached Golden Gate Park. “Are we still being followed?”

  “Not for much longer.” He pointed to the sky. “Hear that?”

  It took her a second to realize it was a helicopter rotor. “That’s our upgrade?”

  He nodded, taking her hand again as they ran toward the sound. They reached the soccer fields, and a moment later the small helicopter with the Gray Box logo set down long enough for them to climb on board. When they were buckled in, the pilot lifted off and circled, getting to altitude.

  Becca watched, more than a little awed at the views of the city flowing by below. “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure,” he replied. “Sam Bellemere seems to have hijacked my escape plan.”

  “That’s what happens when you hang with billionaires,” she said.

  “Rush and Sam were outcasts when we were in high school.” He brought her hand to his lips for a moment. “Thanks for sticking with me.” He loosened his grip on her hand, making it clear that any continued contact was her choice.

  Lacing her fingers with his, she connected the dots between what he’d said and left unsaid. She knew a bit about Rush from her interviews. Although some of his competitors had labeled him and his partner as cocky, she’d always found he could back up even the biggest claims. “Those two were your investment strategy?”

  Parker gave a nod, his gaze locked on the view through the windscreen. “I didn’t have anything better to do with the money when it landed in my lap.” He shrugged a shoulder. “They needed investors. It worked out for everyone.”

  “You don’t need to be ashamed of being wealthy,” she said, earning his full attention.

  “I’m not.” His brown eyes were filled with emotion, his lips pressed into a flat line. “I should’ve paid the ransom.”

  “No.” The man was hurting, not just from the wound in his arm, and she wanted to make it better. “You said it yourself. If the blackmailer wanted money, we wouldn’t be here.”

  “At least not until next week.” His laughter was bitter and weak.

  “Don’t start second-guessing now, Parker,” she said in the tone she used with unruly reporters. “Your car didn’t explode from a random malfunction. It certainly wasn’t a typical act of terrorism.” They both knew terrorists wouldn’t risk exposure and criminal charges over such a low potential casualty count. “This was personal.”

  “That’s what scares me,” Parker admitted.

  She could already see where this conversation was headed. He wanted to send her away. Fortunately for him, the argument would have to wait as the helicopter began its descent over a building in the heart of the city.

  Chapter Nine

  Parker’s gaze drifted around the sparsely furnished condo and he thought billionaire lessons might be a good idea. Sam and Rush had conspired to keep an eye on him after his visit to Gray Box yesterday. Parker hadn’t considered the idea that doing research from a location protected from prying eyes might have prying eyes on the inside.

  Not that he wasn’t grateful for the assist.

  Sam had tapped into his cell phone GPS and kept a police band open. Parker had only made it easier when he called for help identifying the driver tailing him. When the emergency crews were dispatched to a fire near Parker’s location, Sam had leaped into action, reorganizing Parker’s most trusted team and sending the helicopter to bring them to the building Sam had purchased, stripped down and rebuilt per his exacting specifications.

  While Parker was relieved to know he and Becca were completely off the radar, guilt gnawed at him. There were three men on a list with targets on their backs. Tony hadn’t checked in since following the burglar from Becca’s apartment, and Alan was dead. For a security expert with a military background, Parker was doing a lousy job of keeping people safe.

  He replayed the explosion over and over, looking for the next step forward, while he showered off the smoke and debris and let the doctor Rush had sent over treat the wounds in his shoulder and leg. The assassin’s bullets had missed him, but not the splinters from the tree. Parker turned down the offer of painkillers, wanting to keep his head clear.

  Recognizing his primary mistake, he wished he could go back for a do-over. It was as if his military background had fallen out of his head. He’d slipped into the civilian tendency to underestimate an opponent. Cocky and overconfident, he’d relied too much on his home field advantage. The world was a smaller place in recent years and it was too easy for people to travel and train with experts anywhere around the globe.

  The man—or men—hunting him and his team were definitely in the top of their class.

  He’d seen it in those eyes when the man had the syringe to Becca’s neck. Recalling those first images of her coughing and sputtering from the smoke, tears rolling down her soot-smudged cheeks from red-rimmed eyes, he swore. He’d nearly gotten her killed too.

  “Are you hurting?”

  He turned at the sound of Becca’s voice and tried to dredge up a smile despite the guilt weighing him down. “I’m fine.”

  Her blue eyes searched his face and he knew she saw the lie. He waited for her to call him on it. She didn’t. She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him in a gentle hug that felt like a cool balm, soothing him from head to toe.

  She’d been seen by the doctor and given a chance to shower and change as well. He breathed in the fresh clean scent of her hair, appreciated every healthy inch of her in his arms. “You smell fantastic.”

  “Thanks. You too.” She stepped back and grinned at him, turning in a circle. “What do you think?”

  Sam had checked their sizes and had clothing delivered for both of them. Parker had pulled on jeans and a blue button-down shirt, while Becca had chosen black slacks that hugged her hips and an ivory cable-knit sweater. “You’re gorgeous, Becca.”

  And he needed to get her far away from him to make sure she stayed that way.

  “We should—”

  “Go upstairs and thank Sam and Rush,” she finished for him. “Lucy and Madison are bringing lunch.” Catching his hand with hers, she tugged gently on his good arm, leading him closer to the elevator. “I’m not letting you overanalyze this alone.”

  “It’s better to pick apart my mistakes as a group?” He knew he sounded like an ass and couldn’t get a grip on the emoti
ons slamming through him. The loss was bad enough, and the fear layered over all of it was paralyzing him. If another wrong move resulted in losing another friend, it would break him.

  There had only been one other time in his life when he felt this overwhelmed, this uncertain of his ability to create a positive outcome.

  She stopped at the doorway and laid her hand on his cheek. “Parker. Everyone upstairs is here to help.”

  “It’s not their fight.”

  “It is now. This isn’t the time to fall on your sword in a solo act of honor. You need your friends. We need them.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “We?” She couldn’t mean it the way some part of him wanted her to mean it.

  “If you didn’t want me involved, you shouldn’t have kept me locked up like a pet hamster in a cage.”

  “That’s not what happened,” he shot back.

  “Facts are so often a matter of perspective,” she said with a shrug. “Now you’re stuck with me. Come on, they’re waiting for us.”

  “Won’t you please go visit family or friends? Preferably in Europe.” His throat felt raw as he posed the question and he knew better than to blame it on the earlier explosion.

  “No.” She pursed her lips, linking her hand with his again. “Not without you.” She walked out into the hallway, dragging him along, and pressed the button for the elevator.

  “I’ve got a car downstairs,” he said. Any woman who jumped off rooftops and dated stuntmen had to know how to handle a car like his Spyder. “Sam is storing it for me. You can take it anywhere you want.” He told himself the offer didn’t mean anything. He could buy another one any time he wanted.

  “Not without you,” she said again. She crooked her finger as she stepped into the elevator.

  “Becca, be reasonable.”

  “That, I can do.” She gave him a soft kiss, eased back as if gauging his reaction. “I can’t seem to stop doing that,” she mused. “Let’s share a meal with friends and we’ll both be reasonable.”