by Katie Reus
“Dylan!”
“He’ll swerve.” The man looked absolutely convinced as he pressed on the gas.
Yeah, well, she wasn’t so sure. She pressed the sunroof button, opening it as he sped down the asphalt.
The other car zoomed right at them. Her heart jumped in her chest. The guy wasn’t swerving. Neither was Dylan. Fuuuuccck.
They were only a few car lengths apart now. Oh, God. Her throat seized— The gray car swerved at the last minute.
Heart still pounding, she unstrapped and jumped up, pistol out, and aimed at the rear window. Glass shattered everywhere. She took another shot, this time at one of the tires.
Ping.
Adrenaline pumping, she ducked as a bullet glanced off the top of Dylan’s car. Hell, the guy was firing back.
“Evie, get down!”
The Nissan’s engine revved, so she took another shot. This time her aim was true.
One of the tires blew but the driver kept going, speeding away.
“Hold tight.”
Wind whipped her hair everywhere as he did a sharp U-Turn, chasing after the guy.
“I’m taking that guy down.” Or she was assuming it was a guy. Whoever was inside had been wearing a hat and sunglasses, but the build had looked male.
“Shit, Evie, we need to call the cops.” Even so, he hadn’t slowed down one iota. Cursing, whether in general or at her, she wasn’t sure, he increased his speed, taking a sharp right turn after the shooter.
“Ah, hell,” she muttered as the Nissan pulled into a parking lot for a local park full of families and children.
The male driver jumped out of the front seat and sprinted across the gravel parking lot toward a field of grass, not looking back to see if he was followed. The guy hurried down a little bridge, his hands in his pockets, moving far too quickly.
Evie cursed again as Dylan put his own car in park. She couldn’t follow after the guy into a crowd of innocent people, but she could at least search the car. She motioned to let Dylan know what she was doing as he started talking to the police.
Using the edge of her sweater, she opened the passenger side door and did a quick sweep, but was careful not to touch anything with her bare hands. No surprise, the thing was empty. It wasn’t like she’d expected him to leave a driver’s license or other incriminating evidence, but a girl could dream.
As she slid back into Dylan’s car, he set his phone down. “My detective friend is on the way. He said he’s sending some black-and-whites ahead so they can canvas the park.”
She rubbed a hand over her face. “I have a concealed weapons permit and a pretty high security clearance,” she told him, giving away even more of herself. At this point… Hell. “I don’t want any of this on the record. You think your detective friend can make that happen?”
He eyed her for a long moment, then nodded. “I’ll see what he can do. Do you just want to leave now and I’ll say I shot at the guy?”
“No way. I’ll take responsibility for what I did. And we didn’t do anything wrong.”
Looking too sexy for his own good, he simply lifted a shoulder and glanced out at the parking lot.
She did the same, scanning in case their shooter came back. Though her instinct told her that whoever he was, he was long gone. Still, she wasn’t going to let her guard down.
Not now, not ever. And she definitely wasn’t going to think about how Dylan had offered to shoulder the burden of saying he shot at that guy.
Nope.
She regretted that she’d put him in danger at all, that she’d dragged him into this. He might be trained, but he hadn’t signed up for this. Hadn’t signed up for her.
And she didn’t deserve him. Even if she desperately wanted him.
* * *
“What the hell? I didn’t authorize you to do that,” he snapped over the line, looking out at the four-story building across the street.
“What the hell else was I supposed to do?”
“How about not shoot at Evie Bishop?” As far as he knew Bishop wasn’t a threat to him. He’d hired someone to take care of Samara because she was nosy, but Bishop was a different matter entirely. She had a powerful family that could potentially come after him if her death was suspicious.
“She knew I was tailing her, and the guy she was with played chicken with me. She shot at me first.”
Oh, this was not good. It was salvageable, but…he didn’t like it. “Don’t do anything until you hear from me.” He ended the call, irritated.
He rubbed his fingers against his temple. He hadn’t wanted to involve Bishop in this but considering his hired gun had just shot at her, that might complicate things. He could take care of her himself but…he didn’t want to get his hands any dirtier than he already had.
He’d created a nice nest egg for himself and he wasn’t going to let anyone take that away from him. Ever.
He had to take care of Samara for certain. But if he did that, he would have to take out Bishop too. And that brought its own set of complications.
Not that it mattered now. He would do what had to be done.
Chapter 6
Dylan sat next to Evie on his couch, resisting the urge to reach out and take her hand in his. He didn’t have the right to touch her. No matter how much he wanted to.
Detective Carlito Duarte sat across from them, his expression neutral enough. He had high cheekbones, gray eyes, bronzed skin and a charming smile. The man could have been a model, and Dylan found that it bothered him. He’d never been an insecure man, not when it came to sex or women, but he found himself irrationally annoyed that the happily married guy was so damn good-looking as he sat here with Evie.
Dylan had socialized with the detective a few times, usually at informal gatherings, because of his relationship with the owners of Red Stone Security. And while he didn’t employ Red Stone directly, he occasionally used them for certain situations. His casual acquaintance with Duarte was enough that the detective hadn’t balked when Dylan had called and told him that he and Evie would be leaving the park.
After the officers had shown up, far too many onlookers from the park area had approached, and of course, they’d pulled out their phones. The last thing Evie needed right now was her face splashed around. So he’d decided to leave. Now they sat in one of Dylan’s sitting rooms, politely discussing what had happened.
“I wish I had better news,” the detective said. “But the car was reported stolen less than three hours ago. And it’s been wiped down as far as we can tell. We might get lucky and snag some prints, but in a situation like this it’s doubtful. Are you certain you haven’t had any threats lately?” he asked, looking between the two of them.
The assumption was that he’d been the target. He had been driving in his own car. But…Dylan was ninety-nine percent certain this was all about Evie and whatever mess she’d gotten into. He wasn’t giving any of that away, however.
He leaned back against his couch, keeping his body language casual even though he wanted to throttle whoever had shot at Evie. He wanted to make that guy pay in blood. “Leo handles all of my security. As far as I know there are no current threats against me.” He was dealing with a few civil suits. Bogus ones. But that was simply the price of doing business on the scale that he did. He was honest and didn’t rip anybody off but that didn’t stop the leeches from coming out of the woodwork, trying to score what they perceived as easy money.
“What about you, Ms. Bishop? I’ve got a call into the agent handling the case of your brother.” He cleared his throat, as if he didn’t want to bring up her brother.
“The FBI thinks Evan was targeted because of his business dealings—it wasn’t something against my family.” Her jaw tightened as she spoke.
Duarte simply nodded. “That’s what they told me too. But I actually meant Ellis.”
Ah, the one wanted for murder.
“Oh…” She looked at Dylan and shrugged. “I don’t know why someone would target me because of Ellis. He�
�s in hiding as far as I know. He’s never reached out to any of us so I can’t help you on that front.”
Duarte watched her carefully. “I’m still going to follow up on that thread regardless.”
“Thank you, detective.” Evie’s tone was polite but neutral.
The detective stood and nodded at both him and Evie. “If either of you think of anything, let me know. I’m going to be digging into this, see if I can grab any images from nearby CCTVs, but without a clear description of the shooter… I just want you to keep your expectations realistic. I will suggest that you increase your security around here and in general. Both of you.”
“We will,” Dylan said, shaking Duarte’s hand.
Once the detective was gone, Evie rubbed a hand over her face. “I don’t like that you told him you shot that guy’s car.”
They’d already been over this. “It simply makes things easier. There were no witnesses. It was my gun, registered under my name. And the assumption is very clearly that I was the target. This keeps any focus off you, which I’m sure you want right now. Your family has been through enough.” Obviously. Dylan had already let his security team at the house know what had happened, and while Leo wasn’t happy, he was doing what he did best. Keeping this estate locked down tight.
“You’re right. Thank you again,” she murmured, her expression softening.
He gritted his teeth. He didn’t want her thanks but he ignored it. “What’s our move now?” Leo was trying to figure out who had shot at them but his head of security was basically working blind. Evie had a whole lot of information Dylan needed, and once she gave it to him, maybe then he could help her figure out who was after Samara, and now apparently her. Because right now he felt as if he was groping around in the dark. He didn’t even know who she had really worked for. Though he had a guess.
“Like I told you before, I need to grab my laptop. And…I need to grab a stash of some other things. Both mine and Samara’s,” she told him.
“You’re not leaving here.” Over his dead body. After what had just happened, he was keeping her under lockdown. He’d also added one of his security guys at the hospital to keep an eye on her family, just in case. Though after the bombing at Bishop Enterprises, the Feds already had a couple guys unobtrusively down there anyway. They were taking what had happened very seriously.
She gritted her teeth. “I have to get my stuff.”
“I can give you whatever you need.” Hell, why did that sound like it meant something else?
She simply sat there, watching him and not answering.
He sighed. “Fine. Can I send one of my guys to get your things?” Because he wouldn’t bend on her staying put where she was safe.
She paused, thinking it over, before she finally nodded. Her clear blue eyes were sharp as she said, “Yes. That’s fine. As long as you trust them.”
“I do.”
Chapter 7
One year ago
Dylan shot another look at Evie Bishop, even though he should have been listening to whatever it was his mother was saying. He couldn’t believe he’d almost ditched this cocktail party. He had a mountain of work to get to, but now…he didn’t care. Not as he stared at the toned, sleek woman a few feet away. Her inky black hair was in some sort of fishtail braid, draped over her bare shoulder—and her strapless blue dress the same color as her eyes wrapped around her perfectly. She was lean, as if she was a runner, and though she couldn’t be more than five feet five, she somehow seemed taller. Maybe because of her confidence. This woman was…wow.
“Dear, are you even listening to me?”
Normally he could carry on a couple conversations at the same time. His ability to multitask was part of the reason he was so good at what he did. But right now the only thing he could focus on was Evie Bishop.
The last time he’d seen her she’d been a skinny little kid. Well, not a kid, but a teenager. She’d been sulky and very clearly hadn’t wanted to be at the party with her parents. But she’d grown into a beautiful, funny woman. This party wasn’t so pointless anymore. He forced his gaze back to his mom. “I’m sorry, what?”
His mother gave him an exasperated look as she patted his arm. “It’s okay. I know you’re busy. I just wanted to know if you would be attending the Bishops’ party next weekend?”
“Yes.” His mother looked faintly surprised, but then her lips curved upward. No wonder, since he only attended events when they mattered to his business. Small talk and other bullshit weren’t his idea of fun. But he would make an exception. Especially now that he had met Evie Bishop. “Will you excuse me for a minute?” he asked even as he pulled out his buzzing phone from his pocket. When he saw the name on the screen, he paused. But in the end, he answered. “Isabel.”
“Have I caught you at a bad time?”
“No. But I’m sorry, things aren’t working out between us.” He winced at his abruptness. He hadn’t meant to just blurt it out, but meeting Evie had him off his game.
She paused for a long moment. “You just get right to the point, don’t you? I thought we had been having a lovely time together.”
Feeling like an ass, he looked out the French doors. Isabel was a wonderful woman. And they had been having a lot of fun in the last month. But things had changed tonight. Evie had changed everything. “We did, and I apologize. I won’t be able to see you socially anymore. Thank you for the last month.”
She let out a soft sigh. “I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but thank you for not texting.”
He snorted at that. He wasn’t that much of an asshole. It took another minute to get off the phone with her, and once he had, he shoved out a sigh of relief. He and Isabel had been on a few dates over the last month, and while it had been fun, it had been casual to both of them. They hadn’t agreed to be exclusive—he hadn’t been exclusive with anyone in a long time. Exclusivity demanded time and effort he wasn’t willing to put in. Not while he ran his businesses.
But something told him that if he was going to pursue Evie, she would demand exclusivity. And even if she didn’t, he would. He wasn’t sure what the hell was going on with him but he found himself more attracted to her than he’d ever been attracted to anyone. It was like he’d been struck with that proverbial bolt of lightning. It was…disconcerting.
But he was going to start whatever this thing was between them on the right foot. Hell, he was getting ahead of himself, considering he hadn’t even asked her out on a date. He’d sensed that electrical current between them, however.
And he always got what he wanted. He just hoped this time would be no different. Because he wanted Evie Bishop—in his bed and in his life. He’d seen that spark of hunger in her eyes when they’d first met, when they’d shaken hands. It was impossible to deny a connection like that.
Chapter 8
“Oh Seamus, you fucker.” Evie glared at her computer screen. Ever since Dylan’s guy had returned with her and Samara’s things, she and Samara had been holed up, digging for information on their laptops well into the afternoon.
“What have you got?” Samara asked, leaning back against the pillow in the bed. She’d told Evie that she was feeling better but Evie wasn’t so sure.
“Reached out to a friend of mine who did some deep digging. Turns out that Seamus left the Agency in disgrace months ago. A bunch of money from a black ops slush fund went missing.”
Samara let out a low whistle, her eyes widening. “Are you serious? I haven’t heard a thing about that.”
“Well, the money was for black ops anyway so it technically didn’t exist…but it’s gone and now he’s in Miami. I still can’t imagine why he’d want to kill us but he’s here, and he’s a link to the Jensen op.” And now Evie wanted to talk to him.
“Man, I thought he was here for a new job.” Samara popped a Cheeto in her mouth as she pushed her own laptop to the side. “How’d you find him?”
Evie shifted on the bed and showed Samara her laptop. “Look at this.”
&nbs
p; Samara glanced at the screen. “The image is grainy, but…it looks like him. How did you get this?”
“I tapped an asset for a favor. They ran a cursory scan and came up with this. But it was all they could get. So I pulled up some old info on him that I have and it turns out he might be using an alias that he used on an op with me. Which isn’t very creative, but…” She shrugged.
“I’m going to nail his ass to the wall,” Samara growled.
“I’m going to see what else I can find. You can’t leave the house but I can, so—”
“You’re not going anywhere alone.”
“Well you certainly aren’t coming with me. You’ve been shot. Shot.”
“Yeah and I’m fine.” Samara stood from the bed, wincing, but she did her own version of a model’s catwalk as she strolled up and down the length of the room—limping and hiding her groans of pain.
“Will you please sit down? You look ridiculous.” Evie turned back to her laptop as she continued. “If for some reason he’s the one who tried to kill you, you can’t be showing your face around Miami.”
“News flash, you were shot at too.” Samara groaned as she got back into bed.
“True enough.” It hadn’t been the first time, and even though she hoped it would be the last, she wasn’t betting on it. “But I’m not injured. And I’ll go out wearing a disguise.” That was part of the reason she’d needed her stash bag. Supplies.
Samara fell back against her pillow. “Fine. But I really am good enough to move around right now. Hey, is the doctor single?”
Evie got whiplash at the change in topic, but she’d learned long ago that was how Samara’s brain worked. She often just blurted out whatever she was thinking. “Finn?”
“Yeah. I’d like to take a bite out of him.”
“I don’t know, want me to pass a note in gym class and ask him?” She rolled her eyes.
Samara simply grinned. “I need a way to pass the time since you won’t let me have any fun. And he said he was going to be checking up on me this afternoon.”