Swinging the wrong way down a one-way street, Chase took a moment to steal a glance at his passenger. She was pale-faced and hanging on to the grab handle with white knuckles, frantically checking the rear window, head swiveling as though she could create the distance they needed through force of will alone. Relieved she was holding it together, his gaze flicked back to the road as he spun around yet another corner. At least he didn't have to worry she was going to flip out on him, not just yet anyway.
It was going to be tough, but he had to get them somewhere they could make proper plans. He was on the run with one of the most well-known women in the country if not the world. Tough was an almighty understatement. Bloody nightmare would be closer to his current reality. The only option he could come up with was his dark safe house, one that no one in the service knew about, and, if he'd done his job right, one no one could connect him to. He needed to change cars a few times before going there, but if he did things right they'd be able to hunker down for a few days. He didn't like the idea of moving Elizabeth from vehicle to vehicle, as the chance of someone seeing her as they swapped out would be high. But, if the people after them had the kind of access he had to assume they had, they’d have a maximum of twenty-four hours before the green sedan was tracked down. Swapping cars would make them harder to track. There might only have been two people in the vehicle they had just evaded, but he couldn’t be certain how many people were involved, and whatever the hell was going on here meant he had to assume the worst.
After driving for another twenty minutes to be sure they didn't have a tail Chase pulled into a dated multi-story car park, deciding he'd do what little he could to buy them some extra time.
“Keep your eyes open for a dark green sedan,” he told Elizabeth as he drove around, making his way through the block concrete levels, the peeling paintwork and graphics barely registering. He'd nearly given up hope when she pointed to the left.
“Is that one there?” She indicated a vehicle in a far corner.
“Perfect,” he said, before parking up and hopping out. Chase calmly changed both plates, swapping his with those on the vehicle.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he hopped back in the car and drove back towards the exit. Chase parked the vehicle in a space where he could see the exit barrier but the cameras there couldn't see them.
“I've changed the plates. With all the CCTV cameras in the city we're too easy to track.”
“But how does that help?” she asked. “Surely the cameras will still track us here?”
“They will, but they won't track us out. They'll track that car out. It'll take a few hours at least for them to figure which vehicle they should have followed, by which time we'll be in a completely different one.”
“Who are they?”
“What did the CO tell you?”
“Jack Cheshire? Only a little. He promised that you would tell me what was happening when we were safe.”
“Well we're a long way from safe, Miss Worthington, but I'll do everything in my power to prevent you from coming to any harm.” Chase paused to watch a couple of vehicles exit the car park. “The honest answer is we don't know who's behind this. Cheshire will be doing everything he can to figure this out, but in the meantime we're on our own.”
“Why? Surely the police can resolve this? Why don't we just contact them for support? Jack’s CRW team can continue to provide security while this is sorted out.”
Chase stared at her, a little stunned. Not only was she not flipping out completely, she was sitting there calmly rationalizing about who could help, making plans and referencing the Counter Revolutionary War wing who were tasked with protection detail.
“Normally you'd be right, but at the moment we don't know who we can trust.” Chase turned slightly so he could look directly at her and see how she took the news that was about to follow.
“Two suspects were apprehended in the church. One was shot dead, and the other was injured. He's being interrogated as we speak. The suspect that was killed was one of our own.”
The heiress’s brow furrowed. “When you say one of your own, you mean he was part of our security team?”
“Yes. He was SAS.”
Chapter Seven
Beth couldn't stop her gasp of shock from slipping out. When Jack had told her she couldn't trust anyone she'd thought he was just advising caution. Now his message took on a whole new meaning. The SAS regiment weren't just the best of the Air Force, but they were supposed to be the most loyal. If someone in their ranks had turned traitor this was huge. She was in a lot more trouble than she'd realized.
“I really am on my own!” she gasped.
Beth's breathing grew more ragged as panic began to take over. She wanted to be brave and strong, wanted to be kick-ass like the stars of her favorite TV shows, but right now she was all out of brave. The last few hours had been some of the most frightening in her life.
Whatever reserves she'd tapped into to hold onto her dignity for the hair-raising journey she'd just been on were well and truly depleted. Cold sweat prickled her skin as the edges of her vision started blurring. A tiny bit of logic flickering at the back of her brain told her she was hyperventilating, but that flicker of thought died before she could use it. Panic continued to roll through her when she felt large warm hands cradle her face. Gently her face was turned to the side, and she was forced to look up into the dark grey eyes gazing down at her in concern.
“Breathe with me,” Trooper Maddox urged, taking a deep breath in and tilting his head towards her, an encouragement to copy him.
Beth made herself follow his lead and took a deep breath, fighting to resist the urge to gasp it back out, and forcing it out in time with his. Slowly her vision returned, and it took less effort to keep her breathing steady. Suddenly she became aware of the callouses on the palms and fingers gently cupping her face, her body heating in response to the feel of his touch on her skin. A mere six inches separated their faces, and the depth of concern in those stormy eyes sent a different, warming flutter through her chest. If she didn't know better she'd have thought he was concerned about her, about Beth the woman, not the heiress. But she did know better. She had learned the hard way that people didn't see beyond the money.
Before she could move he spoke, his words so quiet they were almost a whisper.
“I promise you as long as I have breath in my body you won’t have to face this alone. I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you safe,” he said, his tone low and even.
Blinking at him, Beth felt the truth of his works wash through her. Somehow, she believed he wasn’t just giving her empty sentiment. He was a man of his word, and the quiet delivery simply reinforced that. Overwhelmed, she didn’t know how to respond.
Pulling back, she stuttered, “Um, thank you, Trooper Maddox. I'm sorry for falling apart on you.” Her voice came out oddly husky.
He pulled back into his own seat with a jerk. “You're welcome, Miss Worthington. For the record you don't need to apologize. You've had a huge amount to deal with in the last few hours, and you're doing better than a lot of the men I know!”
“Really, Trooper Maddox? Better than your colleagues? Now I know you're humoring me!” she teased, desperate to relieve the intensity of the moment and keen to prove she could be brave, that her meltdown had been a moment of weakness that wouldn't be repeated.
“Well, maybe not all of them, but I could certainly name a few you're braver than!” He paused before adding, “Miss Worthington, I don't want to overstep, but it looks like we're stuck together for the time being. Perhaps you could call me Chase?”
Beth smiled at the man across from her. “Chase it is.”
It suited him. Someone who exuded testosterone and masculinity on this level did need a strong name to go with it.
“Chase, I really am sorry for pointing your gun at you earlier,” she said, meeting his gaze so he would see her sincerity.
“I won’t say I enjoyed it, but I do unde
rstand,” he said. “Let’s just agree it was an experience not to be repeated.”
“Agreed,” she said. Frowning to herself she added, “I guess calling me Miss Worthington isn't going to help us keep a low profile?” she asked.
“I'm afraid not,” Chase said wryly.
“I suggest you call me Beth then,” she replied.
“Beth?” he asked.
“My family all call me Beth. Elizabeth is the public name. Beth is a name that people won’t connect with ‘The Heiress’,” she said, making little bunny ears with her finger around the name the press used for her.
Chase smiled at her. “Okay, Beth, let's get going and see if we can't get you to safety.”
Beth quickly gave up trying to understand what was going on. They had changed vehicles and plates a few more times before driving all the way back out of the city to the airport where they drove into yet another huge multi-story car park and Chase parked up.
“Stay here and keep your head down, I'll be back in a few minutes,” he instructed.
“You're leaving me?” Despite her exhaustion she felt the panic start to rise again at the thought of Chase leaving her.
“Not for long. I need to get a vehicle from one of the higher floors. We're in a CCTV black spot here, but there's no way I can get us upstairs and back without being seen. We'll lose all the advantage we've created so far if anyone sees you on camera.” Chase hopped out of the car, and, walking so casually you would never have known he was up to anything, he disappeared from view.
Despite her instincts being to keep an eye on her surroundings, Beth sank down in the seat to make sure she wouldn't be seen. She had to force herself to concentrate on her breathing. Logic told her that Chase wouldn't have gone through all of this to simply abandon her now, yet sitting alone she felt incredibly vulnerable. It was a little frightening how quickly she had come to depend on his solid, reassuring presence.
Heart almost jumping right out of her chest at the gentle rap on the window, she was relieved to see it was Chase. As she climbed out of the car and into yet another rental car, her heart continued to pound, her body taking its time to catch up with her brain.
“Is this why we came to the airport?” Beth asked.
“Yes, a rental car is less likely to be reported stolen quickly, meaning the people following us will have to track every vehicle that leaves this car park to find us. It'll give us a few days of safety before they could possibly catch up with us,” he explained as he pulled the steering wheel firmly to guide them down the sharp corners of the exit ramp.
“But, don't they have those computers where they can track cars and stuff?” Beth asked, well aware she sounded completely vague but trusting he’d catch her meaning regardless.
“You watch too much TV,” Chase said, the lightness of his tone making it clear she had amused him. “Yes, they do, but trust me, they are nothing like you see on TV shows. It’ll take them days to track all the vehicles that leave the airport over the space of an hour and that's before we get back into the capital and they need to access the reams of private CCTV footage to properly track the vehicle any further.”
They finally pulled into an underground car park a little further out of the city than the house she'd regained consciousness in earlier that day, but still in an area of massive apartment complexes and three-story town houses.
“We’re here,” Chase said.
Without a word Beth simply followed Chase’s lead and climbed out of the car, shivering in the cool evening air. As he moved around the vehicle to join her he shrugged his jacket off and slipped it around her shoulders. The simple courtesy warmed her more than the jacket itself. The sensation of the heat of his body and his scent wrapped around her as he placed his hand in the small of her back and led her towards a stairwell.
As they entered Chase moved his hand from the small of her back and looked at a complicated display machine before he motioned to her to stay where she was. Although missing the comfort of the contact she took the opportunity to look around and take in her surroundings as Chase moved further into the apartment. Just as stark as the house they had spent most of the afternoon holed up in, there was more of a mix and match of furniture. It looked, and felt, like somewhere that had been filled with furniture over time, rather than simply having been ordered from a single page of a catalogue. The walls were the obligatory magnolia, but instead of the equally beige carpet at the previous house, there was wooden flooring as far as Beth could see. The mish-mash of multiple uncoordinated rugs spread out was homey, despite the dust that gave the place a sense of abandonment. The front door had opened straight into the lounge. This property didn't have the benefit of a garage that led straight in so they'd stashed the car in the underground parking and dashed up the stairs. Evidently taking the elevator would have been too great a risk.
The air was chilly with a feeling of damp that reinforced that the place hadn’t been used for a long time. The warmth of Chase’s jacket around her shoulders was her only protection from the cold. He'd been pretty unhappy bringing her from the car without any sort of disguise, still figuring that the jacket would at least stop her dress from being recognized immediately, something she was certainly grateful for now. With all the TV coverage of the abandoned wedding it was unlikely there was a person alive who hadn't seen her bridesmaid dress.
Chase returned, tucking his .45 back in his waistband.
“This is my safe house,” he explained, gesturing to the apartment. “We should be able to hole up here for a few days. Hopefully the situation will be handled by then.”
Beth looked up at him and frowned. “But if there is an internal security breach won't they know to look for us here?” she asked, trying to get a handle on what was happening.
“No one knows where this place is.”
At her questioning look he explained that when people joined the SAS they were encouraged to set up untraceable bolt-holes, somewhere they could go to ground if needed.
“This is mine. It's in a false name. The bills are paid from an untraceable account. I've never told anyone anything about it. It would be impossible to find. We have to accept that whoever is behind this is likely to be able to trace this area through the stolen vehicles, but that would take even the most talented tech a few weeks.”
“Hence why we changed cars so much,” she reasoned.
“Yep. The more we changed the harder we made their job. They'll not only have to connect the thefts, but also track the cars through the CCTV systems. Something made much harder by the fact we changed the plates on a few of the cars. People will notice their car has been stolen pretty quickly, but it takes a lot longer for the average person to notice their plates have changed. Also, coming from the airport it's even less likely anyone will notice anything for a few days. The benefit of long haul travel,” he said with a shrug.
Beth was stunned. Not by how hard it was to disappear. Having spent her whole life under a microscope she was surprised it was actually possible at all, even for a short time. She was just grateful to have someone so capable with her.
“It's been a long day. Would you like to freshen up?” Chase asked. “By the time you get out the heating should have kicked in properly.”
Beth looked down at her grubby dress and tangled hair. A bath would be perfect. “That would be wonderful,” she said with a smile.
Chase showed her the bathroom and dug out some toiletries.
“Sorry they are a bit basic,” he said, frowning as he looked at the array on the small shelf.
Beth reached out to lay her hand on his forearm in reassurance. She didn’t want him to worry about such frivolous things when she was perfectly happy just to get clean. They both had enough important things to deal with without worrying about shampoo brands.
“It’s perfect,” she said.
Chase flinched, pulling back from the contact.
“You can't put that dress back on. I'll see if I can find something for you to borrow,” he s
aid, backing out of the room, his tone flat.
Beth clenched her jaw. “For goodness’ sake!” she muttered to the empty doorway. “I only touched your arm.”
There was no need for him to act like she'd stabbed him. Despite herself she was disappointed that he didn't feel the same flood of attraction she did whenever they touched. Even so, there was certainly no need for him to act repulsed by the smallest contact.
Raking her fingers through her hair in an effort to ease the tangles, she reflected that it was just as well he didn't find her attractive. The last thing she needed was an affair with a Trooper, well with anyone for that matter. Besides which, she'd have no idea what to do with a man with as much testosterone as Chase Maddox. At twenty-eight her reluctance to take the risk of a relationship meant she was in danger of turning into an old spinster. Other than some heavy petting whilst at university she was pretty inexperienced. Even that relatively innocent evening had come back to bite her, with the young man in question deciding to brag to his friends, and subsequently the newspapers.
Chase returned, handing her a neatly folded pile of clothes to wear, and she was relieved to bolt the door behind him before running the bath and sinking deeply into it. It wasn’t fancy, but after the day she'd had, it was perfect. The hot water eased muscles trembling from the tension they'd held for the last few hours.
After the water had turned cold she forced herself to climb out, and slipping into the soft jogging pants and t-shirt Chase had supplied, she managed a smile despite her exhaustion. She wasn't exactly tiny, but they still drowned her. Fortunately, the jogging pants had a drawstring, which she pulled tightly, and then rolled the bottoms until she was sure she wouldn't trip over them. Drying her hair with the towel, she left the bathroom.
As Chase looked up at her an odd expression crossed his face and he just stared.
“Umm. Thanks for the clothes,” she said awkwardly.
Broken Trust Page 4