His Last Breath

by S. M. Butler

  He headed out toward the Parker ranch, looking for the car. Not two miles outside of town, and he saw it. He swallowed as he parked the truck on the shoulder. He saw her walking, but she wasn’t close enough for him to gauge any details. But it had to be her. How many other young women were walking away from a car with a flat tire?

  His body stiffened as she got closer.

  Jesus. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he saw her again, but this wasn’t it. He remembered her being thinner, less muscular, less curvy. He remembered her arms being too long, and her legs being too short. And he remembered her strawberry-vanilla-colored hair being wild and curly, almost as unruly as she had been.

  She froze, her mouth open like she’d started to say something just as her eyes fell on him. Both of them stared at the other like morons for another thirty seconds.

  Her legs had caught up to the rest of her, pale and smooth, her skin peppered with light freckles that seemed to extend over her entire body. And her hair was straight and smooth, not at all frizzy and wild like it once was.

  “Hi-hello,” he finally pushed out of his mouth.

  Her pink lips parted slightly, the only indication that she was surprised. She recognized him. A tiny flare of triumph fired in his chest. She wore a plain, form-fitting turquoise t-shirt, white shorts that came to mid-thigh, and bright white tennis shoes, now streaked with the red dirt that blanketed most of Texas.

  “Hi,” she breathed.

  “You okay?” He asked.

  She blinked, then glanced back at her car, then back to him. Her throat worked, and for a moment, he thought she might run the other direction, away from him. She looked as skittish as a small squirrel. She nodded. “Yeah, just had a flat.”

  “No spare?”

  She shook her head. “There wasn’t one.”

  Of course not. Nathan wanted her here for whatever purposes Nathan had.

  He shoved his door shut, and stepped closer to her, taking in every detail of her lovely face. She’d lost so much of that teenage awkwardness. Her beauty had always been there. He remembered that much about her, but her physical manifestation of that beauty had been overshadowed by teenage awkwardness.

  The sweet scent of pomegranate washed over him as he neared her. Lust spun through his body as she bit her lower lip and glanced back at her car like she was going to make a run for it.

  Five years.

  He wasn’t sure what exactly he’d expected to see from this reunion, but this wasn’t it. His body craved to taste her, to touch those full lips, to run his hands down her slim waist and flared hips. To pull those legs around his waist while she screamed his name.

  God damn it. He needed to stop those thoughts right fucking now.

  She was his mission now. He couldn’t lose focus when Nathan was watching. And for sure, if Nathan sent him out here, he was watching.

  ~*~*~

  Abigail stared at the man before her. Of all the people in the world, Christopher Hardy was the last she’d thought she’d see. Had he sent the car? Had he given her the directions that led her to this town? If so, why did he look so damn surprised?

  No, that wasn’t surprise. It was disbelief.

  Five years had mostly been kind. He’d filled out a little. His stature was less lanky cowboy than it used to be. Muscles wrapped around his body thickly, like an artistic representation of an understated warrior. His t-shirt fit snugly over his broad shoulders and chest. She could see his peaks of his nipples pressing against the fabric. His blond hair was longer than she remembered, falling across his forehead, but still short in the back and along his ears.

  But even if she hadn’t recognized who he was instantly, his eyes would give him away in a hot second. He had the same soulful ocean-colored eyes, gray with a blue undertone, but now they held just a touch of darkness she didn’t remember him having before. He’d lost the innocence she remembered, replaced it with hardened knowledge of just how cruel the world was.

  She could identify with that.

  “It is you, right?” She asked. “I’m not seeing things? Christopher Hardy?”

  His lips snapped shut, but he nodded.

  “Hello, Miss Lewis.” The way her name purred off his tongue, she almost melted and not from the heat.

  “I can’t believe it’s you. What are you doing here?”

  The corner of his lips twitched. “Seems like I’m rescuing you again.”

  “Huh?” Was he admitting he sent her the car and the note?

  He pointed back where her car sat. “I don’t suppose you change a lot of flat tires.”

  She set her chin, ignoring the disappointment she felt. She’d really hoped he was the one who’d sent the keys. “I can change a tire.”

  His lips twitched. Was that how he smiled now? “Really.”

  “Yes, really,” she said. Is that really what he thought of her? Some spoiled little girl who couldn’t handle herself? If he only knew. But he couldn’t know. Unless he was the one who’d sent her the keys. Maybe he’d hired someone to do it.

  “Doesn’t really explain why you’re walking in hundred degree weather towards town then.”

  “There’s no spare, genius,” she snapped. “I said that already. What the hell are you doing in Podunk City, anyway?”

  He shifted his bulk from one foot to the other. His eyes clouded for a second then his jaw set. “I live in that podunk city.”

  “Oh. I—” She stopped herself. She really needed to get herself in check. She was antagonizing the one guy that she’d always believed would help her, no matter what.

  His lips twitched again. Maybe that was how he smiled.

  “Hop in.” He turned and started back toward his truck. “I have to go put Mrs. Parker’s tires on real quick. I promised her this morning, but we can go back and fix yours after that.”

  “I’m kind of in a hurry,” she said. She bit her lip and glanced toward the town. It was barely distinguishable from the rest of the Texas foliage at this point. She guessed it was still a couple of miles out. The problem was… if she made it to town and someone recognized her… it wouldn’t be long before Lewis’s security would overrun the town looking for her.

  He stopped with the truck door open and rested his arms on the top of the door. “Well, I suppose you could walk the rest of the way back to town. The mechanic should open in a couple hours.”

  Her face heated as he watched her, the arrogance she saw made her blood boil. He knew she didn’t have any choice here. Well, not a good one. She was really tired of these types of decisions.

  “Can’t you drop me off there and then go to your… appointment?” she asked.

  “Could. But since I’m going out to the Parker ranch for a bit, no one is gonna be at the shop to help you until I get back. It’s Axel’s day off.”

  “Oh.” She blushed. She blinked a couple times and took a breath. She hadn’t seen this man—the man that saved her life—in half a decade, and the first thing she did was argue with him. It wasn’t his fault she was stuck out here, or his fault that she was running from a man she’d loved her entire life.

  Not to mention, she was predisposed to trust Christopher Hardy. He’d saved her life before. That kind of thing left impressions.

  “Come on.” His mouth twitched as he added, “It’s hot out here, only gonna get hotter, and I have air conditioning.”

  He certainly knew how to charm an overheated woman. She walked over to the passenger side as he leaned over and popped the handle so the door would open. The truck was huge to her, made her feel like a child. She grabbed the oh-shit handle, planted her foot on the rather higher-than-she-thought footstep and hoisted herself up into the cab.

  “Seatbelt,” he replied. She blinked at him. He pointed to her far side. “There…”

  “Oh, right,” she laughed. “Sorry.” She felt around the side, but she couldn’t find it. Her hands fumbled and shook as she searched for the other half.

  He grunted and leaned over her, grabbi
ng the seatbelt from the very obvious place it hung. The action brought him so close she could smell, not only his aftershave but his natural scent. He glanced up, pausing as he met her eyes. Then he cleared his throat and her face turned beet-red as he buckled her in like a child.

  Memories of the fear and panic, of the pain… all of it sat just below the surface waiting for its moment to attack her. Seeing him brought back everything she’d fought to control over the years, and yet, like when he’d broken her cage and lifted her out, she felt safe with him near.

  As they passed her car, Chris whistled. “That’s gonna be a new tire. You did a number on it.”

  “I don’t know what happened. They’re practically brand new.” At least, they’d looked brand new. The whole car looked brand new. Maybe this was part of her benefactor’s plan. Maybe Chris wasn’t the one who’d sent her the keys and the cash. Maybe he worked for the one that did.

  Or maybe it was just a big, honking coincidence that he was in the same town she’d followed a map to get to.

  “I’ll get you fixed up,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

  “Thank you,” she said and meant it.

  The silence stretched the distance between them as he drove them away from town. She wanted to ask him all the questions. Did he send the keys? What happened to the military for him? Why was he in Jubilee? Why did he stop visiting her?

  That made it sound like he’d regularly visited. But that wasn’t quite right. He’d come once, about six months after her rescue, to see how she was doing. She’d been a bundle of nerves and fear, all of which had seemed to smooth out when she’d seen him. She’d almost felt like an actual human being again that day. She’d hoped to see him more, if anything, to help her feel like that again. But he hadn’t come again. He’d been a SEAL, and with that, came certain expectations. She’d been a complication of his original mission. Nothing more. It was only his good nature that allowed him to bring her back home.

  “This is it,” he said, breaking the uneasy silence as they neared a long, winding drive, posted by a mailbox with the name Parker on it. The gate was open so Chris drove them through, following the winding trail toward a large house in the distance as it got bigger and closer.

  As Chris parked the truck, Abigail scanned the area. They were parked in front of a white and gray stone garage that had a lone star tacked above the wooden door. How very Texan of them. These people that lived here probably voted for Daniel Lewis too.

  The idea left a bad taste in her mouth.

  The house matched the same white and gray brick of the garage, with. The roof was broken in three places by windows. It wasn’t a true second floor set up. She guessed vaulted ceilings and a loft. Wooden rails lined the long porch, stained dark brown like a deep mahogany.

  A woman waved from the front porch, standing from her chair as Chris whisper an “oh boy” and stepped out of the car.

  “What does that mean?” Abigail asked but as she got a look at the woman, she understood a little more.

  She wore a long, wavy summer dress that left very little to the imagination. Her ample breasts were pushed together with what might have been the world’s very first actual miracle bra. She wore a light robe over the dress, but it was not tied and blew apart as she stood, barely staying over her shoulders.

  “Hello, Mrs. Parker!” Chris called out as he stepped clear of the truck. He’d plastered a smile on his face, obviously forced, but Abigail was nearly blown away by its power to arrest her completely.

  The corners of his mouth didn’t meet his eyes and he bared two rows of teeth more like a way to defend himself than to convey feelings.

  Still, the way his chiseled jaw shaped that smile, the way that smile lit his face up… She’d have melted to the floor if he’d focused that smile on her.

  “Christopher, I thought you’d be coming around later—” she stopped as she saw Abigail get out of the truck, and curious eyes swept up and down her. “Well, who’s this little dear?”

  Little dear? What was she, five? Abigail arched an eyebrow. The woman had swept her gaze over her and judged her inadequate in about three seconds.

  “A friend, Mrs. Parker,” Chris said. “Abigail, Mary Jo Parker. Mrs. Parker, Abigail Le—”

  “Abigail Lawless.”

  Chris shot Abigail a weird look as she held out her hand to the older woman. Mrs. Parker frowned but let her shake her hand.

  “You from Dallas?”

  “No. I’m from… Wyoming.” Wyoming? Did she really just say that? This was why she didn’t lie. She ended up with stupid stories like that.

  “Hmm,” the older woman replied. “I suppose that’s all right, then.”

  Really? Abigail glanced at Chris, slightly widening her eyes at him like she was asking “is this lady for real?”

  Chris didn’t miss a beat as he spoke up. “I got your new tires in the back. I figured I’d put them on this morning before it got too hot.”

  “Sure,” the woman replied. “Car’s over there. I still don’t know why Axel was so worried.” She waved in the general direction of three cars. Abigail hoped Chris knew which one it was. “I was hoping you’d stay for breakfast, but seems you have other things to do.”

  Abigail never felt so small as the older woman shot some seriously angry vibes at her.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Parker. I’ll be out of your hair in a few. Axel will send the bill later.”

  “Of course,” she replied, waving her fingers in a very I-don’t-really-care motion. “Whenever.” With a last glare at Abigail, she flipped around, her long blonde hair curling around her neck and shoulders as she stalked back inside the house.

  Chris didn’t say anything as he went back to his truck and took his tools out, then grabbed a tire. He shoved a plastic box in her hands. “Make yourself useful. Carry that drill for me.”

  Abigail chuckled as she followed the man over to a blue car. She glanced back at the house and grinned. “That woman likes you.”

  He crouched down next to the car, his muscles flexing even through the t-shirt he wore as he worked. “Mrs. Parker hits on anything with a penis.”

  “She did not like me.”

  He glanced up, the corner of his mouth twitching. “She doesn’t like anyone with a vagina.”

  She nearly choked then stumbled but managed to regain her footing and not drop what looked to be like a very expensive drill set. She set down the box and crossed her arms. “Wow. That’s crass.”

  He shrugged as he worked. It wasn’t long before he had the car lifted and got to work.

  Abigail left him alone for a few and looked out at the property. Her father had a few places similar, mostly just houses on large plots of land. He didn’t have ranches like this. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a horse so close to her.

  The house she’d grown up in, the house she’d lived in for years, was in the heart of Galveston, with a secondary residence up in the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex area. There wasn’t much in the way of ranches where she had lived. Just neighbors who loved to spend money.

  Growing up, she’d always wanted horses. She’d loved them, but her father had always told her no. That living out in the country wasn’t safe. She swallowed. What he’d meant was it wasn’t secure enough to make sure she didn’t run or she wasn’t rescued. Maybe one day, when she was safe from Senator Lewis, she’d be able to relax, maybe buy a small property somewhere with horses and have a life she’d never been able to have.

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d stood out there, daydreaming about a life she’d never been able to have. But she was acutely aware of the rising heat and was glad when Chris came to get her.

  As he walked back toward his truck, she had to take double steps to keep up with him. “Is this really what you do now?” She watched him as he tossed the toolbox back into the bed of the truck.

  He rested his arms on the edge of the bed as he met her eyes. “It’s honest work.”

  As he got into the truck, she hoi
sted herself back in and turned her upper body so she faced him. “Are you implying something about me?”

  “Not at all, princess,” he replied. She winced at the label but bit back any reply. “Buckle up, if you can manage it by yourself this time.”

  She drew an angry breath but exhaled sharply as she buckled in. She didn’t remember Chris being so… distant and angry.

  “Lawless, huh?” His eyebrow rose as they turned back onto the main road.

  She shrugged. “Was all I could think of. Most people don’t recognize me on sight. They recognize the name before that. I’d rather people not know I’m in town.”

  His eyes searched hers for a long second, breaking only so he could look back at the road. “I see.” Another long second passed. “Are you in trouble?”

  “No,” she lied. At least, not at the moment. But if she didn’t get moving, it would change quickly.

  “Your security isn’t with you.”

  Shit. Damn military types and their attention to detail. Of course, not having security was a big thing for her too. “No. They’re waiting for me in Dallas.”

  That much was true enough. They were less than a couple hours from Dallas and her father would be searching all international airports for her. She was here, feeling very self-conscious next to a former SEAL who obviously did not buy that particular story.

  “Hm,” came the reply. Nope. He wasn’t buying it. But he wasn’t asking questions either.

  He pulled into the back of a garage, underneath a rectangular sign that said “Hawk’s Automotive.” The doors were down, but he pressed a button and the middle door started moving up. Instead of pulling in, he parked just outside the door and got out. Abigail followed him out as he took long, confident strides into the garage.

  “Watch your step around the bays,” he said. She sidestepped around them as he rummaged through the stuff piled up on the table. He grumbled something she couldn’t understand.

  “Hey, Hardy, I found this weird thing in the office—” Abigail turned to face the voice as it stopped.

  The man from the coffee shop in Galveston stood there, in the same shirt she’d seen him in the day before. It wasn’t like it was a common shirt. It was bright blue, with birds all over it. It was something she’d have expected a grandfather to wear, but he was only around twenty-five or so. Definitely not over thirty.