Blindsided

“You said you wouldn’t leave me,” she said, unable to keep the hurt out of her voice. Just hours ago when he’d kissed her, he’d made a promise. She flushed with desire at the memory and anger at his change of heart. “I believe your exact words were, ‘I’m not going anywhere.’”

  He finally looked at her, color high on his cheeks. “Before this happened”—he gestured to his bandaged leg—“I could protect you. Now, I can barely walk. I won’t just hold you back, I could put you in danger.”

  Men. Good God. “So, if I were injured instead, you’d want to split up so I wouldn’t slow you down?”

  Scott’s lips twisted, and he gave a sharp sigh. “Of course not.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just… If you hurt your leg, you could still do your computer magic. And if we had to run, I could, I don’t know, carry you or something.”

  She stood and held out her hand for the scissors. He turned them over with a puzzled look.

  “I can’t carry you, and you can’t do ‘computer magic,’ so I should leave you behind,” she said, snipping through the right leg of his pants with just enough care to avoid stabbing him. “Did you get hit on the head too? God, you must think I’m a complete bitch if you believe I’d walk away now.”

  “Valerie.” His tone was part apology, part warning as the scissor blades approached his stomach. “No. I—”

  She let him off the hook as she clipped through the thick waistband and stood. “Look, I get that you were trying to be noble and self-sacrificing or some shit like that, but we’re in this together. You wouldn’t leave a Marine behind, right?”

  He shook his head and rolled in his lips as if trying to hold back ill-advised words.

  “Well, I won’t leave you behind either.” She stowed the scissors in the first aid kit and unzipped the legs from his clean pants to make them easier to put on. “I’m not asking for forever. Just until we clear our names.”

  Or die trying.

  “Give me your shorts.” She made a “come here” gesture with her hand, the fire draining out of her. How could he believe she’d only want his help—him—if he could protect her? Did he really think that was all he was worth to her?

  He studied her for several beats with the strangest look on his face, and then raised his hips and pulled the damaged shorts covered in dried blood out from under his butt, letting them drop to the floor.

  For a moment, she could do nothing but stare. His abs were still partially exposed and he was mouthwateringly gorgeous from his ripped biceps to his sculpted calves. The only thing detracting from the view was his boxers.

  And then, against her will, she giggled.

  Scott frowned. “What?”

  “Nothing,” she said, laughing harder at the bright yellow underwear covered in a tiny print. “I just wasn’t expecting…frogs.” Green ones.

  He affected a hurt look. “You don’t like my cheap skivvies? Or is it that they’re not covered in rifles? Or desert camo.” He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Maybe an Abrams tank with the big-ass main gun right down the front?”

  She laughed again and covered her mouth with one hand.

  He tugged her hand away from her face, sliding his palm against her skin until their fingers curled together. “Don’t hide that gorgeous smile. I haven’t seen enough of it.”

  Her stomach did a slow flip, and she swallowed hard, her smile fading at the hot look in his eyes.

  The plane slowed and dropped altitude.

  Scott sighed and released her, reaching for his pants. “Let’s get this done before we land.”

  “No more talk of splitting up?”

  He shook his head and looked her in the eye. “I’ll stick with you as long as you want me.”

  As long as you want me? Jesus, Kramer. Unfiltered thoughts popped out of his mouth around Valerie at an alarming rate. Maybe working with Todd Brennan—a damn good operator who lacked all tact and couldn’t tell a white lie to save his life—was having an effect on him.

  Definitely Valerie was.

  Scott resisted the urge to walk his words back. Either way she interpreted them, they were true. Especially now that he was certain she hadn’t been manipulating him into staying to protect her. If all she wanted was a bodyguard, she would have jumped at the chance to part ways now that he was injured.

  Instead, she’d blindsided him with her loyalty. And the realization that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  His mouth went dry.

  Despite his plan to avoid emotional entanglement with a woman, he’d moved far beyond lust and duty with her. He didn’t just desire her, he cared about her. He wanted to see her safe and happy. That didn’t mean they were destined for wedding bells—he still didn’t believe in long-term relationships, and, hell, they’d be lucky to survive the next few days—but he could quit fighting his attraction and enjoy their time together.

  As much as one could enjoy losing everything and being on the run.

  Pulling himself back to the reality of their plane landing, he let Valerie help him don the hiking shorts, and then zipped the legs on. While she buckled in, he gathered up his bloody shorts and stuffed them into the outer pocket of his backpack along with the dirty wet wipes and gauze. He didn’t want to leave a mess for Caitlyn—by some miracle, he’d managed not to get blood on the seats or carpet—and it was best if there was no evidence he was injured.

  They touched down a few minutes later, the landing as soft and smooth as the ones he remembered from flying with her in the Caribbean, despite the rain and wind.

  “Wow,” Valerie said, her eyes widening slightly. “I expected at least a few bumps.”

  “Impressive, right?”

  Rain pattered overhead, a reminder of the cold, wet conditions they’d face outside. He hoped like hell Kurt had been able to set up transportation and a safe place to stay. At least for what little remained of the night. Scott knew he was asking a lot, but he and Valerie needed something to go their way.

  Once the plane had taxied to a stop, Caitlyn left her seat. “We’re at an abandoned airfield just outside of Leesburg. I believe you have friends waiting for you in a black Ford Explorer about two hundred yards down the street at a strip club.” She pointed toward the starboard wing. “Go that way until you hit the road. Then turn left.”

  Two hundred yards? Fuck me. The way Scott’s leg throbbed, that was bound to be a long, slow walk. Not her fault, though. He rose and took her outstretched hand. “Thanks for this. I owe you one.”

  “Sure thing.” Her green eyes sparkled in the dim cabin lighting. “But it’s Kurt who owes me, not you.”

  He smirked. “I’ll pass that along.” Something was up between those two, but Scott didn’t have a clue. As far as he knew, his boss and Caitlyn hadn’t spoken in person for at least ten years, back when they were in the Air Force together, before Kurt was a PJ. Before he’d lost his legs in Afghanistan. Did she know about that?

  “I can’t thank you enough,” Valerie said, also giving the pilot a handshake.

  Caitlyn nodded. “Okay, time to get moving,” she said, all business again as she strode to the back of the plane and opened the hatch, letting in the rain and frigid air. “I landed without permission, and I have no idea who’ll come to check it out.”

  “Sure thing, ma’am.” Scott slung his backpack over his shoulders and limped toward the door, gritting his teeth so he wouldn’t wince with every step.

  “Shit,” the pilot said. “What happened to you?”

  “Just a scratch. I’ll be fine.”

  “A scratch,” she muttered. “My ass.”

  He chuckled and scanned the area outside the plane for threats. Beyond the concrete strip was an open field, low hills behind it nearly invisible in the rain, despite the city lights reflecting off the clouds. No obvious threats.

  He took the stairs like a toddler, placing both feet on a step before moving to the next one. As long as he didn’t bend his knee, he was fine. It was the only way to ensure he didn’t go ass ov
er teakettle onto the pavement. Icy rain pelted his head and soaked his shirt before he reached the ground.

  Valerie joined him, staying close as he hobbled behind the plane and onto the short, slippery grass alongside the runway. “Can I help?” she asked over the noise of the idling engines, her teeth chattering.

  “You could go on ahead and flag down the car.”

  The propellers started up, drowning her response, but she shook her head. The plane turned and taxied behind them as they followed a paved walkway behind a small shed. The rain fell harder, tapping a deafening beat on the metal roof. Beyond the building, they encountered a chain-link fence separating the airfield from the tree-lined road.

  The gate was chained and locked tight. “And me without my bolt cutters.”

  Valerie walked away from him, scanning the fence, presumably for a gap or hole.

  He did the same for about twenty yards on his end and returned to the gate. “I think we need to go over. We’ll freeze to death before we can cover the entire perimeter.”

  She looked up, hugging her shivering form. “What about the barbed wire?” The prickly topper that canted toward the road had been designed to keep people out, not in, but was effective either way.

  “We’ll have to take our chances. At least here there’s a break.” He pointed to the gate hinge where there was a gap in the barbed wire to allow the gate to swing open. “We can use the hinges as steps and slip over between the brackets.”

  “Will you be able to do that?”

  “I’m fine.” He could suck it up. He’d suffered much worse. “You go first.”

  Without argument, she shifted her bag so one strap hooked over each shoulder, tucked her toe into a space in the chain-link fencing and pulled herself up. The barrier was only about seven or eight feet tall, but their hands were turning numb from the cold, and the rain made everything slick.

  Valerie climbed like a monkey, quickly reaching the top. Once there, she crouched with her hands on the brackets that held the barbed wire and carefully stepped over to the other side, sliding her calves through the gap in the fence posts. She planted one foot on a hinge and the other in the fence, and gracefully lowered herself to the ground, dropping the last couple of feet with a muddy squish.

  “Perfect,” he said. He’d forgotten she was a climber.

  She beamed at him through the wires, her face wet and shiny, hair plastered to her head. “Throw me your bag. It’ll be easier to keep your balance.”

  He hesitated. She was right, but his camera was the backpack. If she dropped it… Then again, if he fell, both he and the expensive toy would be worse off. With his leg protesting every movement, he had enough issues.

  “All right.” He removed the bag from his shoulders and turned it straps up. “Ready?” When she nodded, he shoved it almost straight up and over.

  Thank God it wasn’t too heavy. The pack cleared the barbed wire and Valerie caught it with ease. “Come on,” she said, glancing down the road in both directions.

  Nothing moved, but the longer they lingered the bigger the chance of discovery.

  Scott closed his eyes and flashed back to beatings from his dad and grueling physical therapy sessions, psyching himself up. Quit thinking and just do it. With a growl, he raced up the chain link. Fire streaked through his leg, but he shoved the pain aside, focusing on making his nearly numb fingers work as he climbed.

  At the top, he had no choice but to use his good leg for stability as he swung over. Rather than try to pick his way around the barbed wire and climb down, he vaulted away from the fence. The second his feet hit the ground, his injured leg gave out with a stabbing protest and he landed on his ass.

  He stifled a grunt of pain and focused on the water dripping from his hair as he corralled his breath. Three in, six out. This is old hat.

  Valerie’s hand landed on his shoulder. “You okay?”

  With a nod, he pushed to his feet and took his backpack from Valerie, motioning her forward as he slid the straps over his arms. “Let’s go.”

  Dagger-like pain stabbed at his thigh as he set a quick walking pace down the road, but there was no point in slowing down now. What was a little more pain when he was already awash in it?

  Scott forced himself to focus on the deserted street, watching the shadows between the barren trees for threats. The glow of streetlights hailed them from about a hundred yards out, and they soon came across a brightly lit building painted dark purple with a dozen cars in the lot.

  GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS

  Valerie wrinkled her nose at him. “I suppose it was the only thing open twenty-four hours.”

  “Close by, anyway. Someone sitting in a car on the street this late would arouse suspicion.”

  The door of a black Explorer parked on the side of the building popped open and a short, thin woman in a long parka stepped out, her face hidden in the shadow of the hood that covered her head. She waved and walked toward them.

  “Tara?” he asked, grabbing Valerie by the hand and rushing the other woman. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Tara Fujimoto was Steele’s brilliant business manager. She hardly topped five-two in heels and probably didn’t even weigh a hundred pounds. No matter that she was good with a gun, she was no match for Hollowell’s hired thugs.

  She raised her head, her pretty face and dark eyes finally visible in the rain-filtered light. Scowling, she said, “Nice to see you too. Get in the car and we can talk on the road.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Leesburg, VA

  Wednesday, 3:30 a.m.

  ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL WOMAN. APPARENTLY, SCOTT’S job was rife with them, but he didn’t appear happy to see this one.

  He directed Valerie to the back seat of the SUV where a wool blanket and several towels lay stacked on the dark leather. Her hands were so numb and shaky that she couldn’t latch the seatbelt, but she had enough control to towel dry her hair and swab her clothes before wrapping the blanket around her body and over her damp head.

  Her jaw hurt from trying to prevent her teeth from clacking together, and she couldn’t get her shoulders to relax. Had she ever been this cold?

  In the front seat, Scott dried off in silence while Tara backed out of the parking lot. The woman turned down the road away from the small airport and jacked up the heat, blasting blessedly warm air through the vents at Valerie’s feet.

  “The drive shouldn’t be bad this late. Less than an hour,” Tara said, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “By the way, I’m Tara Fujimoto, business manager at Steele. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”

  “Hi.” Valerie worked her cold jaw, trying to loosen the clenched muscles.

  “I’m not sure if you drink coffee, but it’ll help warm you up,” Tara said, passing back a stainless steel travel mug. “I have cream and sugar if you want it.”

  “Thank you.” Valerie added hazelnut-flavored cream and three sugars and clasped the precious mug with both hands. Tara had seemingly thought of everything.

  “This one’s yours.” Tara looked at Scott and gestured to another travel mug. “You were limping. What happened?”

  “Shrapnel.” He waved off her concern. “Valerie took care of it.”

  “Shrapnel? Were you in an explosion?” Tara’s calm, almost flippant voice changed to an impossibly high pitch, fraught with concern. She took the corner a little too fast and they all swayed to the left.

  “Someone shot at us as we tried to board the plane.”

  “Shit.” She carefully brought the car to a stop to the side of the road just before the on-ramp to the toll road. “Was anyone else hurt?” she asked, glancing back at Valerie, who shook her head. “Is Caitlyn okay?”

  “Everyone’s fine. Why are you stopping?” Scott asked, looking around at the empty street through rain-drenched windows.

  “Thank God.” She grabbed her phone from the console and tapped the screen. “I’m texting Kurt and Dan. They need to take extra precautions.”

>   “Why isn’t one of them—or one of the other guys—here? If someone on Hollowell’s team had been waiting for us on this end, you could have been hurt.”

  Tara patted his arm before putting the car back in Drive. “Aw, you do love me,” she said, her voice pretty much back to normal.

  A little piece of Valerie’s heart twisted with jealousy at the familiarity between Scott and their driver. Which was freaking stupid. But how did one compete with a woman like Tara?

  “Look, I know you can shoot, even under pressure. Dan told me how you held your own after you and Jenna escaped,” he said, lowering his voice, but not so much Valerie couldn’t hear him over the rain or the rhythmic hum of the windshield wipers. “But you’re not trained for defensive driving or hand-to-hand combat.”

  Now Valerie was eavesdropping shamelessly. Tara’s escape?

  “True,” Tara said. “Which is partly why I’m here. No one watches the secretary.”

  “Nothing against secretaries, but you’re far more than that.”

  “I know that, but the guys who are after you don’t. Besides, Jason and Todd are in Tampa watching out for your mom, you’re here, I don’t think Mick’s ever coming to work for Steele, and Kurt is the person they’re most likely to be watching, if anyone. Dan is at the safe house.”

  Valerie assumed those were all people Scott worked with. And apparently, they all trusted him, supported him. Believed in him. Her eyelids burned. Jay had been her best friend at Aggressor. She couldn’t think of another person she’d go to at the company for help. Not one person who would be on her side in this scenario. How sad was it that she’d been there for three years and had only one true friend to show for it?

  And now he was gone.

  She bit back a sob as empty office buildings passed outside her window, bright cones of rain visible under the parking lot lights. Pressing her forehead to the cold glass, she closed her eyes. God, she was so tired. Tired of looking over her shoulder, tired of fighting her attraction to Scott, tired of worrying about who she could trust. And straight-up exhausted.