Читать книгу Soldier's Pregnancy Protocol - Beth Cornelison - Страница 7

Cherry Creek, Colorado—Nine months later

Alec stood in the motel bathroom, ready to chuck his cell phone into the toilet. The water would render the phone and all the data on it useless, erasing the last traces of his trail before he went underground. He’d been followed for a couple of days. The time had come for Alec Kincaid to disappear.

When he’d called the black ops team leader and told him he was going dark and extending his leave of absence indefinitely, he’d received an earful. Time for Alec to get his ass back on assignment, Briggs had bellowed. The team needed him.

Maybe so. But first Alec needed to lose his tail.

Though their orders came from unnamed officials within the U.S. government, the elite twelve-man team operated off the grid, an independent entity funded through offshore investments and hidden behind dummy corporations. Long before the Office of Homeland Security was formed, the team had been working for Uncle Sam in foreign hot spots or doing jobs the U.S. military couldn’t legally tackle. The work was covert, dangerous … and lucrative.

At thirty-five, Alec could easily retire and live off his investments, so extending his personal leave time was not a hardship.

But, as Briggs had reminded him, the team was already short one man due to Daniel’s disappearance. The team had changed Daniel’s status from MIA to presumed dead after five months and given up their search.

Daniel. The only person he’d allowed himself to trust or give a damn about since his mother taught him his first hard lesson in misplaced loyalty, the pain of betrayal. Then Alec had abandoned his only friend. Maybe he was more like his mom than he wanted to believe. Didn’t matter that he’d personally looked for Daniel for nine months. He’d gotten nowhere. He had no more information now about his partner’s disappearance than he’d had that hellish afternoon in the Colombian jungle.

Alec swallowed the bile and sour guilt that swelled in his throat. As he held the phone out over the toilet, the screen lit up like the Christmas trees currently lining the streets of Denver. He paused, considered ignoring the ring. But Alec pulled the phone back and flipped it over. Just in case the call was Daniel, finally surfacing.

Checking the caller I.D., Alec recognized the name of the woman who’d bought his house in Cherry Creek last week. He frowned. Why the hell was she calling?

He conjured a mental image of the woman, and a kick of libido replaced his suspicion. Alec never forgot a face, especially one as stunning as Erin Bauer’s. He’d ogled more than her face last week as he’d toted cardboard boxes out, and she’d carried wicker baskets and flowery pillows into his old house.

He started to toss the phone without answering, but a prick of unease stopped him. Not answering felt too much like leaving a loose end unresolved. Better to see what she wanted. “H’lo?”

“Um … Mr. Kincaid?” her sweet female voice chirped. “This is Erin Bauer. I bought your house on Hurley Street.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you have some mail here, and I was hoping you’d give me your forwarding address.”

“Don’t have one.”

“Oh. Then … maybe you could stop by and pick it up? Although a lot of it’s probably junk, there’s a bill from the power company and a personal letter that looks impor—”

“Toss it all,” he interrupted. He also remembered the woman’s tendency to chatter nonstop.

“But—”

“I don’t need it.”

“Even the letter?” She sounded appalled. “It was hand-delivered by messenger this afternoon. It looks important.”

“Hand-delivered?” Suspicion reared its head again. “Who’s it from?”

In his line of work letters could be deadly. A piece of Deta-sheet fit easily inside an envelope to make a letter bomb. He preferred to deal by phone. By encrypted email.

“There’s no return address,” Erin said. “I could open it and read it to you if—”

“No!” A cold sweat popped out on his lip thinking of Erin’s lush little body, blown to bits by an incendiary device intended for him.

She snorted indignantly. “Ooo-kay. Just an idea.”

He’d have to go to the house and pick up the damn letter, if only to be sure she didn’t snoop and get toasted in the process.

“There’s a name or something in a corner on the back,” she said.

His old house was almost certainly being watched. He couldn’t just waltz up to the door without being seen. Alec rubbed the back of his neck and stewed over this hitch in his plans. Delays didn’t sit well with him.

“It’s hard to read the writing, but it looks like La-something.” Erin paused. “Lafire, maybe?”

Alec jolted. “What?”

“The word in the corner of the envelope. It’s written in chicken scratch, but it looks like Lafire or—”

A chill skittered down his neck. “Lafitte?”

“Uh, yeah. Maybe.”

Alec’s stomach somersaulted. His mind leapfrogged as he strode toward the motel door. “Listen carefully, Erin. Put the letter down.” He kept his voice under tight control, even as adrenaline and hope surged through him. “Don’t touch it again. Got it?”

He prayed she hadn’t already obliterated any fingerprints on the envelope, destroyed evidence that could help him find Daniel.

“Uh, yeah. I got it.” Her tone was rife with unspoken questions.

He expelled a harsh breath. “Look, I’ll be there as soon as I can. In the meantime—”

He jammed on his shades and scanned the parking lot before stepping out into the December sunshine. Alec jerked open the driver’s door of his rental car and dropped onto the front seat. Was the letter really from Daniel? And if it was, why hadn’t Daniel come in person? Or sent an encrypted email? A letter was not protocol. Yet this letter could answer all his questions about what had happened to Daniel that fateful day months ago.

Or it could be a trap.

“In the meantime, what?” Erin asked.

Alec squeezed the phone. “Just sit tight. I’m on my way.”

As he sped out of the parking lot, Alec pitched the cell phone in the motel swimming pool.

Lifting her face to the sun, Erin Bauer savored the unseasonably warm day before she stooped to collect her newspaper from the end of her driveway. By tomorrow, the weatherman said, conditions more typical of the Christmas season in Colorado would blast into town.

As she unfolded the newspaper, Erin scanned Hurley Street for signs of Alec Kincaid. More than two hours had passed since he’d said he was on his way. Not that she was watching the clock.

She skimmed the front page and gave the headlines a cursory glance. The top story remained the U.S. senator’s daughter who’d disappeared from the charity medical delegation in Colombia. The senator was pleading for information about his only child’s disappearance. Erin rubbed a hand over her abdomen. Her loose peasant shirt hid the fact that she could no longer button even her “fat jeans,” though she was still a long way from needing maternity clothes. Tucking the newspaper under her arm, she sighed her sympathy for the senator whose daughter was missing. Erin understood loss.

Shoving down a twinge of loneliness, she swiped an errant curl of light brown hair from her eyes. Turning to go inside, she cast another expectant glance down the street. Okay, maybe she was looking forward to seeing Alec a little bit. After all, God didn’t give many men the drool-worthy physique He’d gifted Alec with. Or eyes blue enough to send quivers to her core. So who could blame her for wanting another chance to goggle at the man?

Considering Alec had ignored her attempts to make friendly conversation, she’d had little else to do but admire his good looks as they moved their belongings last week.

If he weren’t so … well, unapproachable … she’d consider inviting him to dinner or asking if he’d meet her for lunch one day. If she was truly making a fresh start in her life, she should think about dating again. It had been two years …

But the timing is all wrong now. Maybe next year …

A sharp pang twisted through her chest, and she sighed. She had to stop dwelling on Bradley’s death, on the Finley child. She needed to push the horrid memories aside and move forward.

Pivoting on her toe, she headed inside to unpack another box in her study. One thing was certain—the next man she let into her life had to be the safe, reliable, homebody sort. No more following her man off the edge of mountains, jumping from planes or diving in treacherous waters. She had other people to think about, other lives to consider, responsibilities. She had guilt.

Erin puffed stray hair out of her face and pushed the gloomy thoughts aside. She set out the few Christmas decorations she owned—a jolly Santa, her mother’s nativity set and a pine garland, which gave her new mantel a touch of holiday cheer. For the next half hour, she immersed herself in unpacking her collection of books. Beloved original copies of Faulkner, Caldwell and Steinbeck, passed down from her father, graced the shelves next to signed copies of her favorite romance novels and mysteries. Textbooks on topics as varied as meteorology and art history testified to her thirst for knowledge, inherited from her mother and the reason she’d become a teacher. Again pain filtered through her chest. She would teach again. But she’d be more careful this time. Much more careful.

She heard a car in her driveway and moved to the window to peer outside, hoping Alec had finally arrived. Instead she found a delivery van from a local florist pulling to a stop by her sidewalk.

Erin hurried to the front door in time to see a man dressed in a Santa suit slide out of the van. Not Alec. Disappointment spiraled through her, followed closely by curiosity. Who could be sending her flowers? He had to have the wrong address.

She grinned, remembering the silly ads she’d seen for the innovative florist, touting their army of Santas on staff to make special deliveries more festive. The Santas would even sing for an extra fee. The Santa in her driveway unloaded a large poinsettia, tugged his fur-trimmed hat lower over his ears and marched up the walk to her porch.

She stepped out on her porch and called a greeting to the elderly gentleman. He gave her a small nod of acknowledgment. Erin couldn’t hide the note of amusement in her voice when she asked, “Hello, Santa. Are you sure those are for me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He lumbered awkwardly in his overstuffed costume up her porch stairs and raised his head. The piercing blue eyes that greeted Erin and her answering bone-deep tremor sent a crackling jolt of awareness through her.

“And you have a letter of mine,” Alec said.

She gasped her surprise. Even at close range, the white beard and chubby cheeks looked real. “Mr. Kincaid?”

Alec held a hand up and shook his head slightly. “Inside.”

“After you.” She stepped back and waved him inside. “So, moonlighting as an elf?”

His expression was hard and unamused. Erin’s grin faltered. She had known Alec was remote, but his lack of humor was unsettling. Once inside, Alec placed the poinsettia on her end table and fiddled a bit with the bow before turning.

Erin waved a hand toward her unpacked boxes. “Sorry it’s such a mess. I haven’t finished in here. I thought the kitchen was—”

Alec turned his back to her and walked down the hall, opening closet doors and casting a sweeping gaze into each room. She followed him, bristling at his rudeness. He may have lived here once, but this was her home now.

“Looking for something, Santa?” She didn’t bother to hide the irritation in her voice. “I have your letter out here—” she hitched a thumb over her shoulder “—if that’s what—”

He closed the blinds in her bedroom before he faced her. “Have you noticed anyone hanging around the area? Any weird phone calls or strangers come by here?”

This from a man wearing red velvet pants and a fake white beard?

Erin couldn’t resist. “You mean stranger than you?”

He scowled and moved toward her. “Just answer the question. Have you seen anyone watching the house?”

A tingle of alarm skipped down her back. “No. Should I have?”

“Not necessarily.” He peeled off the faux beard, which he’d apparently applied with some sticky gluelike substance, and rubbed the black stubble on his square jaw. “Can I see the letter now?”

Erin stared at him, puzzling over his peculiar demeanor before backing toward the hall. “Sure. In here.”

She led him to the living room and collected his letter from the coffee table. When she thrust it toward him, he hissed and winced.

“I asked you not to touch it again,” he grated through his teeth. He took the letter from her carefully, holding it by the edges.

She gave her head a little shake and drew a slow breath. “Sorry.”

He grunted and bent his head to study the envelope.

Just humor him a little longer. Erin shifted her weight and rubbed her palms on the seat of her jeans. “So … you recognize the handwriting or anything?”

He didn’t answer at first, but when he raised his gaze, she’d swear she saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes. Her pulse stumbled.

“Never mind that,” he said huskily. “Don’t tell anyone I was here or say anything about having seen the letter. Understand?” A muscle in his rugged jaw twitched.

“Well … yeah. But why?”

His stern demeanor had returned so quickly, she wondered if she’d really seen the flash of pain and vulnerability she’d imagined.

“Just keep quiet about it. Do you have a zip-seal bag I can put this in?”

“A bag?”

“To preserve it.”

“In the kitchen. I’ll be right back.” Erin hustled past Alec, bemused by his dictate of silence.

When she returned with a zip-sealing sandwich bag, Alec gently slid the letter into it and tucked it inside the fuzzy lapel of the Santa suit. Immediately he headed for the door with a long-legged stride. “Remember, you never saw this letter. Keep your doors locked, and if you think you’re being followed, don’t take any chances. Go to the cops. Got it?”

Erin’s pulse did a little two-step in her chest. “Alec, is there a reason you think I might be followed or in danger? If so, I think I have a right to know what—”

“No.” Alec grimaced and sighed heavily. “I … just think women like you, who live alone, should … be careful.” He quirked his mouth up in a lopsided grin that looked more like a wince. “Merry Christmas.” Quickly he replaced the fake beard and shouldered through the front door, changing his gait as he stepped out on the porch to an old man’s shuffle.

“Thanks for the poinsettia, Al—uh, Santa.” Rolling her eyes, Erin closed the front door. “Weird.”

Maybe she was better off not dating if Alec was the sort of fruitcake that the bachelor world had to offer.

Her stomach rumbled. Mmm, fruitcake.

She glanced at her watch and decided to have a snack before doing any more unpacking. On her way into the kitchen, Erin stuck her finger in the soil around the poinsettia. Bone dry. Carrying the plant to the kitchen sink, she gave it a drink from the spray nozzle. While that water soaked in, she opened a cabinet and took down a glass.

A floorboard behind her creaked, her only warning before a powerful hand was clapped over her mouth. She loosed a muffled scream, and the glass fell to the floor, shattering.

“Shut up, and do what I say!” a low voice hissed. The hand over her mouth was removed, and a cool knife blade pressed against her throat. In the tinted glass of the microwave, Erin caught a reflection of the paunchy man behind her.

Her knees trembled, but she fought not to let them buckle. Not with the thug’s knife squeezing her jugular.

Focus. Don’t let fear win, she heard Bradley saying as clearly as if he were still around, goading her into doing another daring stunt. She remembered steeling her nerves to launch her hang glider on her first trip with Bradley, calming her jitters in order to think clearly the first time she parachuted solo. She had to muster the same clearheaded thinking now, despite her fear.

“Where’s LeCroix’s letter?” the man growled.

Her stomach churned as she recalled Alec’s warning. He’d known she would be in danger, yet he’d given her nothing but a warning to deny seeing his letter. Damn him!

“Wh-what letter?”

Her captor shook her, and the blade nicked her neck. His grip around her waist tightened.

Erin gasped and slid a protective hand to her lower abdomen.

A second man appeared from behind her and began ransacking her kitchen drawers.

“Come on, sweetheart. I know you called Kincaid. Now where’s Daniel LeCroix’s letter?”

“I don’t know anything about a letter. Please let me go!”

“Lady, either you talk now, or I’ll cut you until you tell us what we want. Where is the letter that was delivered here this afternoon?”

Erin whimpered as the knife pressed harder against her neck. She was out of her league here, as well as outnumbered. Her captor knew she was lying, had clearly tapped her phone, probably had been watching her house. Alec had suspected as much, ergo the disguise and the drawn blinds.

Whatever Alec was involved in, she wanted nothing to do with it or the seedy men who were after him. Despite Alec’s warning, she refused to anger these men by lying. She wouldn’t risk her life for something she knew nothing about.

“I don’t have the letter. Not anymore.”

Even as Alec adjusted the tiny listening device in his ear, he heard the growling threats against Erin, heard her give him up.

Damn. They’d been closer behind him than he’d thought.

“I swear. The letter isn’t here anymore,” Erin said, the fear in her voice coming clearly through the microphone hidden in the poinsettia. Alec thought of the shadows that had clouded Erin’s wide dark eyes as he’d left. The doubts. The vulnerability.

He cursed the twist of fate that had put Erin in the line of fire.

“Where is it?” the male voice growled.

“Alec has it. He just left. In a florist’s van.”

So much for denials. Alec finished stripping off the bulky Santa suit and fled the delivery van Erin had just identified. Checking the chamber of his SIG-Sauer pistol, Alec crept from behind the van to the cover of a large holly bush.

Don’t jeopardize the mission. If things go south, it’s every man for himself.

The principle wasn’t complicated. Easy enough to understand. Just not so easy to follow through on. Not when the man involved is your partner, your best friend.

Or an innocent woman with wounded, puppy-dog brown eyes.

Alec bit out an expletive. He couldn’t abandon Erin to the thugs who had her. Not when he was the one they wanted. Him—and Daniel’s letter. Though he knew civilian casualties were sometimes unavoidable in counterterrorism, he wasn’t ready to write Erin Bauer off as a cost of war just yet.

Having parked the van out of sight a few blocks from Erin’s house, he now ran through his former neighbors’ backyards, listening closely to the exchange playing from his earphone as he circled back to Erin’s house.

“How long ago did Kincaid leave?”

“Just a few minutes.”

With a running leap, Alec hurtled the picket fence at 217 Hurley Street, dodged the garbage cans at 215 and raced through the lines of drying laundry behind 213.

“Did he read the letter before he left?”

“No.”

“Who delivered it? What did it say?”

Jumping the hedge between 211 and 209, he sprinted to the backyard of Erin’s next-door neighbor. From behind a giant shrub, he surveyed the scene at his old house.

“I don’t know. I s-swear. I d-don’t know anything.”

“We’ll see about that.”

He heard Erin yelp. In pain or fear? Adrenaline kicked in his chest. Needing to get a better fix on the situation, he calculated his best approach.

“Come on, sweetheart. You’re coming with us.”

What?

“What?” Erin’s terrified voice echoed Alec’s reaction. He pressed a hand to his ear, holding the tiny receiver closer.

“Kincaid couldn’t have gotten far. We’ll take you with us as a bargaining chip, offer you as trade. His girlfriend for the letter.”

Girlfriend? Alec cursed again under his breath. If they thought Erin meant something to him, her life was in even more danger.

“But I’m not—”

“Shut up, lady. Move it.”

“No, wait! I—”

Alec heard an oof, a grunt. The scuffle of feet. A crash.

From his hiding place at the side of the house, he heard the back door open. Muffled voices. He peered around the corner and saw them drag Erin at knifepoint toward a white SUV. The hair at Alec’s nape bristled. If they harmed so much as a hair on Erin’s head …

Guilt wrenched inside him. This was his fault. She was at risk because of him. Obviously, the thugs planned to use her as bait to draw him out. Therefore, freeing her, protecting her was his duty, his obligation.

Another man had joined the knife-wielding cretin and climbed behind the steering wheel. Alec didn’t recognize either of the men, but he memorized their faces now. As the guy manhandling Erin shoved her in the back seat, he snarled some kind of warning. Despite her obvious fear, Erin lifted her chin defiantly.

Alec’s lips twitched at her show of moxie. He’d found no shortage of things to admire about Erin Bauer. He couldn’t blame her for giving up the information about the letter so easily. She had no way to know what was at stake, no reason to do as he’d directed. Even he didn’t know what was at play or why. But now Erin was a part of it … which left him rescuing her. The old-fashioned way. The hard way.

He gritted his teeth, irritated by the diversion from his plans. He’d finally picked up Daniel’s trail. He needed to be studying the message his partner had sent, going underground, lying low until he lost the tail he’d picked up. But he wouldn’t, couldn’t abandon Erin to these men.

Like you abandoned Daniel.

The white SUV turned down Hurley Street, and Alec retraced his path, running through the neighbors’ yards, keeping the vehicle in sight. He kept pace with the SUV until it turned onto the main street leading to the interstate.

Time for wheels.

A pickup truck stopped at the intersection, and Alec snatched open the door. “Police! Follow that white SUV. Don’t lose them!”

The college-aged driver scowled his doubt. “Let’s see some I.D., bud.”

Alec pulled his SIG-Sauer from his shoulder holster. “Move it!”

The young man paled and raised his palms. “Easy, bro. I’m going!”

Alec pointed. “There! They just got on the interstate. Hurry!”

His driver punched the gas, wove through traffic like an expert, and merged onto the interstate doing close to eighty.

Alec spotted the SUV several cars ahead and calculated his best attack. He didn’t want Erin’s captors to see him and risk a car chase that put innocent lives at risk. An eighteen-wheeler occupied the next lane, and Alec sized up his options. Doable.

“Pull as close to the back of that truck as you can and hold it steady. Got it?”

The college kid looked at him and nodded. “Check.”

While his chauffeur aligned his pickup with the larger truck, Alec rolled down the passenger window and secured his SIG-Sauer in his holster.

“Thanks for the lift,” Alec said as he wedged his body through the window and hoisted himself out. While they rocketed down the interstate, Alec climbed into the pickup’s bed. Braced against the air current. Focused on his task, his mission.

The pickup moved beside the rear of the eighteen-wheeler, and Alec eyed the bar ladder on the back end of the truck. He prepared. Calculated. Jumped.

His foot slipped as the truck bounced over a pothole. Adrenaline spiking, he groped for a rung of the bar-ladder. The jolt as he caught himself tugged viciously on his shoulder. Pain slithered down his arm, but he held on, found a foothold.

Over the whoosh of air and rumble of engines, he heard the pickup’s driver whoop. He nodded to the young man as the pickup eased back into the correct lane.

“Kids, don’t try this at home.” Alec scaled the rungs on the back of the eighteen-wheeler and levered himself to the roof. The truck rocked and shimmied as it barreled down the road. The slipstream pushed and pulled at him as Alec found his footing. Like surfing in a hurricane.

Keeping his center of balance low, he edged along the roof of the truck’s trailer. Scanning the road in front of him, he spotted the SUV. The luggage rack on its roof. Target located.

The eighteen-wheeler changed lanes, easing forward. That’s it. A little further.

A passing car honked, and a passenger gestured wildly at the driver of the eighteen-wheeler.

Alec gritted his teeth. Damn it, he didn’t want attention drawn to him! But, realistically, he had to accept that his highway gymnastics would cause spectator concern. The sooner he acted, the better.

Alec edged into position. The SUV was still almost a car length away, but he couldn’t wait much longer, couldn’t risk Erin’s captors seeing him. He braced himself and judged the distance to the roof of the SUV.

A challenge. But doable.

What could she do? Erin squeezed the door handle and weighed her options. Jumping out of the car at highway speed would be suicide. But when they left the interstate, if they stopped for a traffic light …

She rubbed her palm on the leg of her jeans, over her belly. She had to be careful. Couldn’t take unnecessary risks.

But she refused to let these men harm her, kidnap her without even a token resistance. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.

She thought of Alec Kincaid, the selfish bastard, walking out on her, leaving her to fend for her life. Alone. She was in this mess because of his stupid letter! She worked up a good mad and funneled the energy toward planning her escape. They had to get off the interstate sometime. And when they did …

A car behind them honked, and she absently turned her attention to the passenger-side mirror. An idea niggled. Maybe she could signal someone in another car….

She glanced sideways to the knife-wielding maniac who rode beside her and nixed that thought. She couldn’t tip her hand. When she acted, she had to catch the men totally off guard.

She returned her gaze to the side mirror with a wistful glance. If only—

Erin sat straighter in the seat and narrowed her gazed in disbelief. A man was on top of the eighteen-wheeler behind them!

What kind of idiot—?

Her breath caught, and she blinked to make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her.

No trick. It was Alec.

Her heart, responding to Alec’s daring with a drumroll, rose to her throat. She stifled the gasp that threatened, determined not to give Alec’s presence away to Mr. Knife and his buddy. Her gaze riveted to the SUV’s side mirror. Her fingernails cut into her palms.

Horrified, she watched Alec inch along the roof of the truck’s trailer. He crouched low, adjusted his arms for balance.

Dear God! What was he planning?

An image of Bradley’s broken body flashed in Erin’s mind, and her stomach rolled. Alec was coming to help her. Like Bradley had been. Putting himself in danger. Risking his life. Taking foolish chances. For her.

The bitter taste of fear filled her mouth, and Erin swallowed a moan. Not again.

“You say something, sweetheart?”

Erin jerked her head around to face Knife. “N-no.”

“Take it easy, darlin’,” Knife said with a sadistic leer. “Soon as we get that letter back from Kincaid, you’ll be free to go.”

The man driving grunted. “For a swim with the fishies maybe.”

Knife laughed and gave Erin a salacious wink. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of ya.”

A shudder raced down her spine. She worked to form enough spit to swallow the knot in her throat as she swung her gaze back to the mirror. The truck was closer. Alec perched on the edge of the trailer, crouching. Springing.

Erin gasped, but the sound was lost as Alec landed with a thump on the roof of the SUV.

“What the hell was that?” the driver barked.

Trembling all over, Erin held her breath.

Knife angled his head, looking up. “Something hit the roof.”

Suddenly the window beside Knife shattered. Erin jolted as glass shards blasted across the seat.

“What the—!” The SUV swerved as the startled driver twisted toward the smashed window.

“It’s Kincaid!” Knife brushed broken glass off his shirt and surged forward to shout to his cohort. “He’s on the roof! Shake him!”

Erin gripped the edge of the seat as their driver snatched the steering wheel hard to the left then right again. Alec’s legs slid off the passenger side of the roof, scrambling to find purchase.

Panic roiled inside her. “No!”

The driver yanked the steering wheel again. Alec slipped farther down the side of the SUV. He needed help. Her help.

Snatching off her seat belt, Erin lunged for the front seat, the driver, the steering wheel.

“Hey, get back here!” Knife grabbed the back of her shirt. She fought like a wildcat to grab the wheel, steady the SUV.

Erin heard a thump, a smack. When Knife’s hold on her suddenly fell away, she darted a glance over her shoulder.

Alec hung over the other side of the car now. He reached in through the broken window to land a punch in Knife’s jaw.

Knife’s eyes rolled back. Before the man could even slump all the way to the seat, Alec slid, feet first, through the broken window.

“Manny?” the driver called as he checked the rearview mirror.

“Manny’s taking a nap,” her rescuer said.

“Alec!” Relief swamped her so hard and fast she nearly choked on the tears.

But her relief came too soon. The driver raised an arm, turned, and leveled a gun at her.

She saw the flash from the muzzle in the same instant the ear-shattering blast rang in her ears. She screamed and curled forward to protect her abdomen.

More glass rained on her as the passenger-side window shattered.

“Get up!” Alec shouted.

She glanced up and realized the command was directed to her. He struggled to restrain the driver, keep the thug from shooting again and steer the SUV at the same time. She met Alec’s blazing blue gaze, and instant admiration stole her breath.

He hitched his head toward the front seat. “Hurry! Grab the wheel!”

Erin scrambled to suit orders to action. Somehow Alec managed to hold the SUV in one lane. But as the thug struggled with Alec, the man’s foot moved on and off the accelerator making the SUV jerk, lunge and stall. They drifted toward the next lane and swapped paint with a school bus. Alec cursed.

Heart thundering, Erin clambered into the front seat, wedged her left foot over to the accelerator pedal and wrapped her hands around the steering wheel.

Freed of needing to steady the vehicle, Alec squeezed the driver’s throat, held him immobile until the man went limp.

Erin gawked and leaned out of the way as Alec dragged the man’s body into the back seat. “Is he dead?”

“No. I want these jokers alive to answer questions.”

Erin slid into the driver’s seat and brought the SUV under control.

“You okay?” Alec asked.

“Depends. Define okay.” She met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “If I were shaking any harder, my t-teeth would rattle, and I feel like I m-might throw up, but … I’m not hurt. Does that count?”

“Can you drive for a while?” His face was hard, his gaze razor sharp.

She nodded.

“Good enough for me.” He situated the thugs on the back seat, tying their hands with the seat belt. “Take the next exit, but don’t stop. Drive until you find a place that has some privacy.”

“O-okay.” Erin flipped on her turn signal and changed lanes, heading for the exit he indicated.

Alec climbed into the front seat beside her and raised his shirt to pull out the envelope tucked in the waist of his jeans. He heaved a relieved-sounding sigh and closed his eyes.

Crisis averted. Thanks to Alec’s heroics. Erin exhaled her own relieved sigh, but her hands still trembled. She cast a sideways glance at Alec, and for a moment, she simply savored the sight of his black, windblown hair, the stark bone structure of his brow and jaw, the full cut of his mouth.

When they’d been hauling boxes last week, she’d been transfixed by his taut, muscular frame, by his intensely blue eyes. But it seemed this man’s face was perhaps the most striking, the most interesting of his features. Without being classically handsome, he had a rugged sort of appeal. A muscle in his jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth and opened his eyes. She followed his lowered gaze to the envelope in his lap.

She scowled. “That dumb letter must be awfully important.”

He cut her a sideways glance. “It is to me.”

Harsh lines bracketed his mouth, his eyes, and spoke of hard living. A thin, pale scar on his cheek evidenced a past injury. Alec Kincaid was clearly no stranger to a dangerous lifestyle.

Her annoyance cooled when she realized the lengths to which he’d gone to rescue her. He was either the craziest man on the planet or the bravest. She’d wager on the latter.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “For helping me. Saving me.”

He didn’t answer. Instead he turned to stare out the side window, his face an emotionless mask. Finally he slanted a hooded look at her and grunted. “Your gratitude may be premature.”