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  Her bottom lip parted from the top, and she pulled herself back into the moment, her escape plan evaporating. “What?”

  “The prosecutor who hired Blackhawk Security to find you. Her name is Melanie Slater.” He motioned to the glovebox. “You can check the vehicle’s registration papers, my ID, anything you need to make sure I am who I say I am. Hell, I’ll take you to the Charleston police station right now if that’s what you want to run my background, even though you and I both know the reach of Carter Hudson’s network.” Max tore his attention from the road and threw her that gut-wrenching smile. “But it’s like you said back at the house. I’m the best shot you have of surviving this, beautiful.”

  *

  They were being followed.

  Max hadn’t been able to confirm it until he’d pulled over and the vehicle four cars back—the Mercedes—had slowed along with them one lane over. Not noticeable. At least, not to someone like Emma, a civilian who hadn’t been trained in situational and tactical awareness. As a former rescue diver for the Anchorage Police Department, he’d been trained by the some of the best in the country. He’d learned how to be alert and ready to react to any situation. Fast. As one of Blackhawk Security’s search and rescue operators, his clients relied on him to keep them alive. Seemed Emma’s attacker might not have run with his tail between his legs or he wasn’t working alone. Which meant they couldn’t go to the hospital. Not without making her an easier target. And that wasn’t a chance he was willing to take. He’d have to take her straight to the safe house. Without raising her suspicions she was still in danger.

  The vehicle following them swerved into their lane, three cars back now.

  Max took the exit just as traffic ahead began to slow. He wasn’t going to wait for the bastard to catch up to them. “So what’s your favorite dairy product?”

  “You’re trying to distract me.” Emma leaned forward in her seat, eyes on the passenger side mirror, sending a waft of light citrus his direction, and his racing thoughts settled into a calm buzz. “Who do you think is following us?”

  Impressive. Max tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he wrenched the SUV down a side street. Wouldn’t do his client a damn bit of good to lead her attacker to the safe house. “They teach you to spot tails in accounting?”

  “Something like that. Take this right.” She braced herself against the passenger side door, and he turned without hesitation. Century-old trees lined either side of the street, blocking the wash of moonlight from above and throwing the interior of the vehicle into darkness. Their tail came around the corner a split second later. Damn it. “Left. Then left again. Step on it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He wrenched the wheel again and floored the accelerator. How could he say no to a woman like her? The engine growled as they shot faster through the quiet neighborhood. One glance in her direction—that was all it took—and he understood. “You’ve memorized the city grid in case you needed to run again.”

  “Doesn’t hurt to be prepared.” Emma slapped her hand against the air bag compartment as they vaulted over a speed bump. This late at night, most civilians would be tucked in their warm beds. He and Emma were running from a contracted killer. Hell of a way to get to know one another. “I’m sure you’d agree. You’re military, right?”

  Not quite. A hollowness tightened his gut. “Rescue diver. Anchorage PD.”

  “Here.” Emma pointed to an empty driveway in front of a large deep blue, two-story French colonial home, bouncing in her seat as the tires hit cement. No lights. No movement on the property as far as he could tell.

  Max hit the ignition button and cut the engine and headlights. Silence descended as he held his breath, attention on the rear-view mirror. Three seconds. Ten. Her soft breathing reached his ears. He caught sight of her pulse pounding hard at the base of her throat. Soft hair slid over her shoulder and across his forearm, and his heart jerked in his chest.

  “Did we lose him?” she asked.

  The vehicle with the broken headlight drove past and kept heading down the street. Emma shot her hand to his, gripping tight for a fraction of a second. Bastard would probably make a few rounds before giving up for the night, but it was safe to say Emma and that big brain of hers had saved their asses. He studied her fingers wrapped around his, noted the orange polish on her fingernails. Suited her. Even knowing her for less than an hour, he’d seen her strength, her warmth, and enthusiasm. Heat worked through him at her touch, soothed the battle-ready tension straining down his spine. “For now.”

  Taking in the seemingly random home, the red door, the iron gate leading to the back of the property, and black shutters on all the windows, Max shouldered out of the SUV and rounded to her side before she had a chance to open her own door. “Where are we, and is anyone going to shoot at me when I clear the premises?”

  He unholstered his weapon and wove his free hand around her elbow, pulling her from the vehicle. Her hand pressed against his chest as she fought for balance. Right over his heart. He had to get his head in the game. She’d been attacked, and the bastard was still out there searching for her. He released his hold on her and scanned their surroundings. She might’ve saved their asses from being followed, but that didn’t mean she was safe.

  “I can hear the cop in you now. In the way you speak. I like it.” Warmth exploded from behind his sternum at her words. Emma tugged her overnight bag closer to her body and dove her hand into a side pocket. Emerging with a set of keys, she held them up for him to see. “The only person who’d even know we’re here is the owner, and I’m sure we can work out some kind of deal since you saved her life tonight.”

  Max relaxed his hold on the Glock, a smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. Even with the threat of danger hanging over her head, she’d found a way to lighten the situation. How was that possible? “You own the place.”

  “I inherited it when my mother passed away, but I kept the deed in her name. Nobody will know to look for us here.” She padded up two brick steps onto the old porch, the wood protesting under her weight, and shoved the key into the front door. Rusted hinges screamed as she pushed the door open. Inviting him inside with a nod, she smiled. “You can come inside, Max. I promise not to shoot you.”

  “Can’t say I’m going to make the same promise.” A shadow of a man stepped away from the darkness surrounding the property then raised the gun in his hand.

  Chapter Three

  The gunshot exploded loud in her ears.

  A wall of muscle slammed into her, but that was nothing compared to the pain exploding at the back of her skull as her head snapped back. White spots floated at the edges of her vision. She hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from her lungs. The man who’d attacked her at the cottage… She recognized his voice.

  “We’ve got to move.” Wrapping his fingers around her uninjured arm, Max hiked her into his chest and thrust her through the front door of the house. Pale green walls blurred in her peripheral vision as he pointed her to the back of the property. He closed and secured the front door behind them, aiming in the direction of the shooter’s last position. “Keep low. Use me as a shield if you have to.”

  Her heart threatened to pound straight out of her chest. She fought to take control of her breathing, but none of the techniques she’d used over the years came to mind.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Nobody knew about this property. How had her attacker even found them? Unless… Blood slipped through her fingers as she clamped a hand over her injury, and she shut her eyes tight. Unless her boss had someone in the city clerk’s office. She lowered her voice. “Seven percent of Americans believe chocolate milk comes from brown cows. Bananas are curved because they grew towards the sun. Heart attacks are more likely to happen on a Monday.”

  The pressure only built faster. She’d need more than self-defense moves and random facts to survive a bullet.

  “Where is the back door?” His voice dropped into dangerous ter
ritory as he took position in front of her, and Emma forced herself to focus on him. Max released the magazine from his weapon, seemed to count the bullets inside, then slammed it back into place.

  She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. “S-straight through the kitchen.”

  “Good. When I give you the signal, run as fast as you can for the door.” Loading a round into his weapon, he pulled her into a crouch, those green eyes pinning her in place. He used to be a cop. He’d get them out of this. She had to believe that. “I’ll keep his attention on me while you get the hell away from here. Should give you a chance to make it to the Charleston PD. You still have the card I gave you?”

  She nodded. Emma pulled his business card from her pocket, smearing her own blood across the glossy surface. The front door slammed into the opposite wall, and she swallowed the scream in her throat. Footsteps echoed down the long hall from the front of the house, and her gut tightened. Fear clawed—desperate, violent—through her system. The man with the knife, the one who’d attacked her… She couldn’t go through that again. Couldn’t take the pain. Wouldn’t. “He’s coming.”

  “Look at me, Emma. Listen to my voice.” He framed her jaw with one hand, his gaze locked on hers. Her body heated at his touch, at the soothing sound of his voice. Once again, the pressure behind her ribcage eased. Because of him. If she survived, if she never saw him again, she’d remember that voice. “You need to get as far from this house as you can. Then call that number. Tell whoever is on the other end of the line what happened. The Blackhawk Security team will keep you safe. Got it?”

  He wanted her to leave him here? Her fingers tightened in his jacket. “Max—”

  He crushed his mouth to her hers, his free hand tangling in the hair at the nap of her neck. He pulled her flush against him, the pounding of his heart vibrating through her. His tongue broke past the seam of her lips, and the fear eating her from the inside evaporated. Fearlessness took hold. She trailed her fingertips along the edge of his beard, then set her forehead against his. “We can make it.”

  “Go. I’ll find you. I promise.” A bullet whizzed over their heads, and her body curled in on itself automatically. Max spun around, positioning himself between her and the gunman, and returned fire. Once. Twice. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Get out of here, Emma.”

  She pocketed his business card and shoved to her feet. Pumping her legs hard, she headed straight for the back door and ripped it open. Humidity added to the beads of sweat pooling at the base of her spine. She had to get to the police station. Had to call the number on the card. Had to trust someone else to keep her safe.

  Emma fought to catch her breath as the hard thunk of fists reached her ears. One step. That was all it would take to escape the nightmare Max wanted her to leave behind. But she couldn’t do it. She turned away from the door. Closed it. A growl of pain from the front of the house kicked her fight instinct into gear, and she crossed the kitchen to the old dumbwaiter beside the fridge. “You asked me to trust you.” Within seconds, the compartment surfaced from the darkness below, and Emma curled her fingers around cold weight of metal her mother had stashed here years ago. “This is me trusting you.”

  Pain was temporary. What Max had done for her tonight, that would stay with her forever. Breath stuck in her throat, she rounded back into the long hallway she’d fled down a few minutes ago.

  There, standing over her personal protector, the man who’d attacked her took aim with his weapon. Right at Max. “You can’t stop me from getting to her, Logan. No one can.”

  “He doesn’t have to.” Emma swallowed back the cringe working up her spine at the sound of that voice as the shooter turned dark eyes on her. She edged close enough to smell the sickening hint cigarettes again as terror iced through her. Sliding her finger over the trigger, she distributed her weight between both feet and pulled back her shoulders. Just as her father had taught her. “I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if you don’t get the hell out of my house.”

  “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Her attacker swung his arm up, targeted her.

  “Emma!” Max vaulted off the floor, but he wasn’t fast enough.

  She pulled the trigger.

  *

  Three seconds. That was how long it would’ve taken to lose her.

  The moment her attacker had turned the gun on her, Max had been lost. Consumed with a protectiveness he’d never experienced before. He’d gotten into this job—worked for Blackhawk Security—to make up for the past, to save as many lives as he could to balance his ledger. But seeing Emma at the end of that barrel… The memories that haunted him every night hadn’t even come close to the terror that’d gripped him.

  “Have you ever shot someone before?” she asked.

  Red and blue patrol lights faded as they pulled away from the scene. The son of a bitch who’d attacked them would live despite the bullet lodged in his arm. EMTs had cleared them both, officers had taken their statements. They were free to go, but Emma’s nightmare was far from over.

  “No.” He’d never had to pull the trigger on the force, but he’d known a few good men and women who had. Understood the psychological effects of having to shoot a suspect. Pain didn’t only manifest in physical form, it took an emotional toll. “You gave him a chance to put down his weapon. He refused, and you did what you had to, Emma.”

  “You don’t have to talk to me like I’m one of your victims. I don’t feel bad about shooting him, if that’s what you’re worried about. He was going to kill you. I…reacted.” Her tongue swiped across her bottom lip, homing his attention to her full lips. A nervous habit, he’d noticed. She turned that bright blue gaze on him, and every cell in his body combated the chill that’d settled deep into his bones since they’d had to dodge that first bullet. “I just thought as a cop, you might be able to tell me if I did the right thing—”

  “By letting him live.” Not a question. He understood. Because Carter Hudson had hired a professional killer to tie up his loose end, and Max doubted the bastard would take a knee now. No. The senator would send another contractor, and another. Until the job was finished. Max wouldn’t let that happen. And hell, Emma had been so strong to fight back this long, so determined, so beautiful, he could only answer with the truth. “Back when I worked for Anchorage PD, I was assigned to be part of a missing persons case. A young woman had gone missing, and detectives had evidence her abductor had thrown her body somewhere in Lake Spenard. They needed me to find her. I was the only diver on shift, but I didn’t fight too hard when they asked me. I wanted to see her abductor’s face when I found her, make him face his crime.”

  Tension tightened the tendons between his shoulders and neck, and he wrapped his grip around the steering wheel. “Took me less than an hour to recover her body. She hadn’t been in the lake long, but the damage done to that poor woman… It was like nothing I’d ever seen before. He hadn’t just killed her. He’d tortured her, probably for days before getting bored and tossing her into the lake like a piece of garbage.” Max swallowed around the constriction in his throat. “Turned out, he didn’t like us touching his trophy. He’d lifted a set of handcuff keys off one of the detectives restraining him and attacked me.”

  Emma slipped her hand across his arm, kept him in the moment, kept him grounded as oncoming traffic blurred in his vision. He took a deep breath for the first time since walking in on the bastard with the knife to her throat, holding onto her citrus scent as long as he could. And the tension slowly released. “What happened after that?”

  “We both went into the water. I was the only one who came up.” It wasn’t the full story, but revealing his deepest, darkest secret wouldn’t help her feel better about her choice not to take a life. “I was acting in self-defense, at least according to the department, but I see his face every time I close my eyes, Emma. I haven’t dived since.” Max pried her hand from his arm, bringing the backs of her fingers to his mouth. Planting a kiss along her kn
uckles, he reveled in the feel of her skin against his. He’d kissed her, right before she’d saved his life, and he wanted nothing more than to drown his nightmares with memories of her from now on. “Killing the man who attacked you? That would’ve haunted you every night for the rest of your life. And I don’t wish that on anyone.”

  She strengthened her hold on his hand. “Thank you. For everything. I wouldn’t be sitting here if it weren’t for you.”

  “I could say the same thing to you. You’re quite the shot.” Max smiled. He’d just been doing his job, but the thought of losing her back there, of having to watch the life bleed from those mesmerizing blue eyes, it gutted him. They’d met mere hours ago, and they’d go their separate ways as soon as he was pulled from her case, but Max knew in that moment: Emma Chastaine had already gotten under his skin, had become part of him. “How’s the arm?”

  “Medium rare.” Her laugh bubbled past her lips but sounded forced, as though if she didn’t have this small release, she’d break apart at any moment. And he didn’t blame her one bit. They’d been running off adrenaline fumes the past few hours, and he admired the hell out of her for making it this long.

  “We’re almost to the safe house.” They’d lie low for a couple days, then follow the plan to get her back to Columbia to testify against Carter Hudson. “I had my team stock it with anything you might need. Fresh bedding, food, you name it. You can get something to eat and—”

  Headlights blinded him a split second before another vehicle crashed into the driver’s side of the SUV. Metal protested as momentum wrenched Max to the left, his head slamming into the glass. Emma’s scream echoed throughout the cabin, and he instinctively reached for her. As darkness closed in.