Blindsided

  “You go in,” he said. “I’ll keep watch from out here.” And put on a shirt while he was at it. “If I honk, you drop everything and get the hell out.”

  It was too soon for video from the gas station robbery to be in the news. Her disguise—even without the fake glasses—should still be solid.

  “Okay.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they were tucked away in the dim corner of an apartment complex parking lot that butted up against the back of a deserted strip mall, eating crackers with hummus and drinking pop. In addition to snacks, she’d come out of the store with window markers and a buttload of bumper stickers.

  “You ready?” he asked, offering her the last cracker.

  Waving off the food, she nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  He had to admit, her plan was pretty smart. The cops might not have been able to make out the van’s license plate on the camera, but they’d be able to see the rear of the van, at least from an angle. It was currently devoid of anything but a dealer decal. With Valerie’s stickers, they could change that.

  “Before we put them on, we need to make them look old.” She took the stickers from the bag, handed him the markers, and opened the passenger door, careful to unlatch it slowly to minimize the noise.

  Scott exited his side, flinching at the squeak of the hinges in his own door, and met her by the back bumper. “Can you get this off?” she asked, pointing to the dealer logo.

  While he used his pocketknife to pry off the shiny plastic letters, she spread the stickers face down on the asphalt in a single layer the way he’d laid out the cards from his Memory game as a kid. Then she walked back and forth on them, occasionally twisting her foot.

  She held up a UCLA sticker that was now smeared with dark streaks and punctured through the A. Peeling back one corner, she rubbed the sticky backing on the ground and then pulled the paper completely off.

  “Any preference?” she whispered.

  He shook his head, and she placed the decal neatly on the rear window. With its drooping corner and weathered face, the sticker looked like it had been there for years. “Brilliant.”

  How could he not admire a woman who understood camouflage?

  Twenty minutes later, the back of the van was plastered with logos for the Los Angeles Kings hockey team, Zuma Beach, two surfboard companies, and a bunch of quips about global warming and world peace.

  “I told the cashier we were playing a trick on a friend,” she said, keeping her voice low even though they were far from any windows.

  “Nice.” He nodded. “What do you think?”

  While she was working on the stickers, he had used the paint pens to draw volleyballs and write messages on the side and rear windows.

  Bump, set, spike!

  Sand Dogs are #1!

  Dig it!

  Valerie gave him a thumbs up and a huge smile, and God damn if he didn’t puff with pride like a pathetic schoolboy.

  Inside the van again, he pointed to the pull-down shades mounted at the top of the windshield and over each door. “Get those, will you?”

  While she blocked out the light—and prying eyes—up front, he clambered into the cargo space and tugged opaque blue curtains across the side and back windows. The place he’d been calling home since he arrived in California was neat enough. His clothing and camera bags were lined up on one side of the van, along with a small camp stove, a five-gallon water jug, a box of basic kitchen supplies, and what basically amounted to a chamber pot.

  The previous owner had covered the knee-busting corrugated metal floor with a thick piece of plywood. At night, Scott rolled out a dense foam pad and spread open a sleeping bag, using a thin blanket to stay warm.

  He and Valerie could both fit, but it would be tight. Which, granted, his body was totally on board with, but she wasn’t some woman he could mess around with and walk away from, no matter how much he wanted to experience the touch of her lips or the soft skin of her magnificent breasts.

  Choking back the groan that built in his chest at the thought of her right here, naked beneath him, he took several deep breaths and then rolled out the bedding.

  They were in this together for who knew how long, which meant Valerie was off limits. As if she even wanted a man like him—a killer—touching her anyway.

  He glanced up and caught her watching him, her face mostly hidden in shadow.

  Swallowing hard, he said, “You can sleep back here, I’ll take one of the front seats.”

  “That’s not fair to you. I’m sure we can both fit.”

  Especially if they spooned. Good Lord. Where was his legendary patience now? He bit back his protest. If he made too big a deal of this she’d know exactly what was going through his mind. Better to act like it was nothing.

  “I trust you,” she said.

  He almost laughed. That made one of them.

  Valerie squeezed between the seats and into the back of the van, her heart drumming. The vehicle seemed to shrink, and her awareness narrowed to Scott’s breath, the unreadable expression on his handsome face, the makeshift bed they were going to share…

  Needing a diversion, she took in the black bags neatly lined up against the wall, the small camping stove and box of supplies. The van might be a piece of crap, but he kept it clean and uncluttered.

  “So this is how you spied on me in Zachari?”

  He nodded. “I was one of the ‘surfers’ living out of his van, parked down the street from your rental.”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t catch on. I thought I was so…aware.” How could she have missed him? Her father had trained her to be observant and alert, always. She might have gone lax over the years, but she’d been careful while on the run. Or so she’d thought. He’d followed her around for days even before she ran, and she’d never once felt a tingle of alarm.

  “Don’t feel bad,” he said, apparently reading her thoughts. “We see what we expect to see. And I did learn a thing or two about blending while in the Marines. Hell, half of scout sniper training is learning how to get close to someone without being noticed.”

  She bit her lower lip. His level of training should make her feel better, but it didn’t. “Why scout sniper?”

  “That’s what we’re called.” He sat on the wheel well, arms resting on his knees, hands loose. Hardly the picture of a trained killer, which was probably part of what made him an expert.

  A shiver ran through her.

  “Taking out targets is such a small part of what we do,” he said. “Most of the time we’re on reconnaissance and overwatch, providing intel for the platoon and covering their maneuvers.”

  “Is it lonely?”

  He gave her a strange look. Most likely, people usually asked how many kills he had or whether he got a thrill from taking lives. She wasn’t sure she wanted those answers.

  “Despite the lone-wolf reputation the media gives us, we usually work in pairs or teams of four.”

  “Yeah,” she scratched an invisible pattern into her jeans, “but you’re separate from the rest of the troops a lot, aren’t you? Not just physically, but in skill set.”

  “I guess so.” He studied her face with an intensity that made her toes curl. “Being a HOG definitely sets you apart from the crowd, even in the Marines.” Finally giving her some relief from his probing stare, he peeked around the edge of the curtain to his right. The downside of privacy was lack of visibility to the outside.

  “It was like that for me when I was a kid, working scams with my papá, and then later…” Her jaw tightened and she forced the memories aside. “No one could relate to me.” She slipped off her running shoes and sat, tucking one foot beneath her. “Honestly, nothing’s changed.”

  “That sucks,” he said, suddenly on the move, checking their surroundings from all angles. Even several inches shy of six feet, he was too tall to stand upright, so he hunched over, his back curled like the handle of a cane.

  He ended his rounds at the rear window, dropping to his knees, intent on s
omething outside.

  Fear made her less than graceful as she crawled to his side and rose up to see what had captured his attention. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He released the curtain and faced her, their noses not even a foot apart.

  They were so close she could hear his soft breath, smell the sweat and dirt and faint spice on his skin. Feel the heat radiating from his body. His gaze landed on her mouth, and she stopped breathing.

  Looking away, he shifted to the side, putting space between them, and riffled through his bag. “Nothing,” he repeated. “I was just watching for changes and thinking about our next steps.”

  Right. Exactly what she should be doing. Air flooded her lungs as she sat on her heels and nodded. The only way to end this nightmare was to prove her innocence, and now that Jay was gone she had to start over. Her heart turned to lead. More memories to box up and store deep in her mind behind a vaulted door with a lost combination.

  “What have you come up with so far?” she asked.

  Scott looked up and blinked, as if startled that she’d spoken. For several seconds, he did nothing but watch her, his body a statue clothed in an Arctic Monkeys band shirt and shorts.

  “Scott?”

  Instead of answering, he shook his head gently, leaned close, and kissed her.

  If asked, Valerie would have said she had a better chance of winning the lottery than being kissed by Scott Kramer. Since only fools played the lottery, she had believed both were impossible.

  And yet, his soft, warm lips were pressed to hers right now, his beard scratching her chin. Outside the van, the night was silent save for the gentle hush of an occasional truck on the nearby freeway and the bark of a dog, but nothing else registered as his fingertips trailed along her cheekbone and into her hair, spinning threads of delight all the way to her toes.

  Her stomach did cartwheels when their tongues touched. The reality was light years ahead of her fantasies. How could she have known that her entire body would feel electrified? That every caress would create a spark that jolted her heart and melted her bones. No one had ever kissed her with such…focus.

  She tugged him closer, her skin turning to fire at the near full-body contact as he slid an arm behind her, pulling her even tighter to him. Her fingers tentatively explored the power and strength of his back and shoulders, tracing the contours of his muscles. He wasn’t a big man, but he was solid as granite and honed like a knife. Strong and hard and hot.

  And his kisses… Her breath caught as he tugged and nipped and soothed with desperate lips. His free hand left a trail of lightning from her neck, down over her shoulder, finally, thank God, skimming the side of her breast. She moaned and leaned into his touch, achy with desire, ready to drown under the onslaught.

  He pulled back so fast she had to grab his shoulder for balance.

  “Sorry,” he said, his voice rough, breathing heavy as he shuffled out of reach.

  Her own breath came in ragged gasps, her hands and lips aching with loss as he retreated. “No, it’s—”

  “That wasn’t part of the plan.” He ran a hand across his mouth and his gaze met hers, the regret in his eyes unmistakable in the dim moonlight that seeped under the shades. It was one of the few times since she’d met him that his expression wasn’t on lockdown. But did he regret the kiss…or stopping? “I don’t have an excuse, but it won’t happen again.” At least his chest rose and fell in time with hers. He wasn’t unaffected.

  Small comfort. His rejection still stung like a slap with a ruler, even if getting involved right now was a bad idea.

  But was it?

  How bad would it be, really? They had little to lose. If the police—or worse, Duncan—caught up with them tomorrow, she’d never have another chance with a guy like Scott. They’d both be in jail. Or dead. Her heart skittered at the thought, and she blinked back the avalanche of tears that threatened over what her life had become.

  She’d been alone since long before she went on the run, but the last three weeks had been the worst in years. Until last night—God, not even twelve hours ago—when Scott had finally chosen to trust her and join her side of the fight.

  Having him along for the ride made everything easier, and she was so goddamned tired of facing the world, her future, alone.

  He cleared his throat and looked beyond her shoulder. “I’ll sleep up front.”

  They only had a couple hours until daylight, but Valerie wasn’t in the mood for sleep anymore. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, grabbing onto the front of his T-shirt and curling the soft fabric into her fist. “Please, don’t.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Azusa, CA

  Monday, 4:30 a.m.

  SCOTT WAS LOST THE MINUTE Valerie’s lips met his. He’d used up every ounce of willpower he had backing away from her the first time. Now, he couldn’t even remember why he’d wanted to.

  Her hands curled into his hair, the light scratch of her fingernails at the base of his neck making his knees weak. Sitting back on his heels, he tugged her onto his lap and explored her sweet mouth. Slowly, slowly, torturing both of them, he slid his hand down to cup her left breast, to gently caress the heavy softness in his palm.

  He stroked a thumb across her rock-hard nipple and she arched back.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered in a groan, nipping at her lips.

  Valerie moaned in response, a plea that went straight to his groin.

  Her fingers slid beneath the hem of his shirt, trailing over his abs, up his chest and across his collarbone, her touch lighting him up like an incendiary grenade. She ground her hips against him, and he nearly exploded. Jesus.

  Cradling her around the shoulders and hips, he lay her down without breaking the kiss, stretching out above her, aligning their bodies from head to toe.

  A small voice at the back of his mind whispered a warning. You can’t just walk away from this one.

  Fuck off, he answered back.

  Propping himself with one arm, he tugged the bottom of her shirt with his free hand, wishing he could risk opening a curtain to let in more light. He wanted nothing more than to see her in all her bronze glory. Then again, he wasn’t necessarily ready for her to see all of his not-so-glorious parts. Maybe darker was better.

  “Wait.” She stopped his progress with her hand over his, something odd in her voice.

  He froze. “What’s wrong?” Had she heard something? Christ, he was so caught up in her that he’d lost his sense of situational awareness. He dropped his hand and started to push away.

  “No, don’t,” she said, grabbing the waistband of his shorts, her smooth fingers tantalizing against his bare stomach.

  Come on, baby, move that hand a little lower.

  “But, um, I’d like to leave my shirt on,” she said, without meeting his gaze.

  “Why?” The fear and vulnerability on her face drove him up onto his knees, dislodging her hand from his pants as his brain flashed neon red warning signs.

  “I…” She absently rubbed a hand across her ribs.

  “You know what? You don’t need to tell me.” This whole episode was veering dangerously close to relationship-forming territory. Assuming they survived this nightmare, he needed to be able to move on when it was over. Physical intimacy was one thing, but emotional? That was something else altogether.

  He cared enough to spare them both.

  A slice of white light flashed under the driver’s side window shade, illuminating the front seat and dashboard, drawing Scott’s attention away from the gorgeous woman laid out before him. Something hard rapped against the glass.

  “Anyone in there?” a man asked from outside.

  Shit. What the hell had he been thinking letting down his guard? Bad enough that he was ready to break his own rules to sleep with Valerie, but now he’d let his libido put them in danger.

  Her eyes widened, and he put a finger to his lips. “Don’t move,” he mouthed.

  Shaking her head, she sli
d out from under him, tugging her shirt down to her hips. He grabbed her arm. “Trust me,” she whispered, gesturing him out of sight as she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

  He let go. She was the mistress of the con, right? Time to let her prove herself.

  “Hel-lo.” The man outside rapped on the window again. “Valley Security.”

  Scott’s shoulders relaxed a little. Rent-a-cop. Potentially dangerous, but not the police.

  Finger-combing her hair, Valerie clambered into the front seat, pulled back the curtain, and used the crank to roll the window about a quarter of the way down. “Hi,” she said, cheerfully. “What’s going on?”

  Nerves of steel, that woman.

  “Ma’am.” The man shone his flashlight beam around the interior of the van, but Scott stayed out of range. “You can’t park here without a resident permit, and you definitely can’t camp here.”

  “Oh, no, I’m not camping. My mom said any space without a number was for visitors.”

  “Your mom?”

  “Yes, sir, she lives here,” she said. Scott couldn’t see her face, but he could hear the genuine warmth of a smile in her tone. “Esperanza Ramirez?”

  Silence. Scott couldn’t see the guard from his vantage point either, but he could imagine him shaking his head.

  “Anyway.” Valerie’s hand flashed in the light as she gave a dismissive wave. “My boyfriend kicked me out last night”—she blew out a breath, spinning a whole tale behind that small noise—“and she said I could stay with her, but she’s a cleaner on the night shift at the JPL, and I don’t have a key. So, she told me to wait in the parking lot until she gets home at seven-thirty.”

  The man’s shoes made a scuffing sound on the asphalt.

  “What time is it now?” she asked, shifting closer to the window, probably giving the guy a little dose of her stellar cleavage.

  Those incredible breasts that she wouldn’t let Scott see naked. Let it go. He swallowed hard and held in a sigh.

  Clearing his throat, the guard said, “Almost five.”