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  “Then let’s go. I just need to figure out where their car might have been.”

  She slipped her hands over his and turned to walk. He took one step in the direction of the highway, then dropped his gaze to her bare feet and the underbrush. With an easy swing, he lofted her into his arms. She didn’t fight him and fit perfect against his chest like the missing piece in a jigsaw puzzle.

  She rubbed against his shoulder, bemoaning her lack of strength and judgment. He ignored her words and focused on her nuzzling him. There was no denying how satisfying it was to hold her.

  “Why their car? I want our truck.”

  Her rasp wasn’t meant to be seductive. He knew that. It shouldn’t have done a thing to turn him on. But it sounded like a morning after rasp, all scratchy and grated, and it made him twitchy and turned-on.

  What the hell was his problem? Awareness was key to their survival. Her survival.

  Tonight, he was out of character, starting with missing the signs of impending assault, all the way up to here and now. He shouldn’t be running around with a hard-on. His concentration should’ve been laser-beam focused on their safety and the disk in his back pocket.

  He cleared his throat and foraged a path through the woods. “I have to assume the cops are seconds away from the gas station. So, forget our pickup truck. It was rented with an alias anyway. No biggie.”

  “Colby?”

  “Yes, doll?”

  He stepped through the thicket and pushed low-hanging branches away from her. She nestled against his chest.

  “Thank you for saving me. Again.” She paused for a heartbeat. “Is it going to stop?”

  The innocence in her words killed him. He growled with heated emotion. Anger. Lust. Possessiveness. “Hell, yes, it’s going to stop. So don’t worry about it. I’m going to fix all of it.”

  Winters dropped his chin to her silky, tangled hair and breathed her in. Her hair pressed against his skin, tempting his control. Despite the day, she still smelled like butterscotch and vanilla. He heard a sigh that caught him off guard. It was his sigh. He rolled his eyes but sighed again, kissing her forehead and letting it linger.

  She tightened her muscles in his arms and stiffened. “Please don’t do that.”

  “What? Kiss you?” He knew he shouldn’t have. He stepped over more branches and pushed another thorny branch away from her. Why did he kiss her just now? She was scared, and he was on the job. If there was a better reminder of that than a shootout at a gas station, he didn’t know what it was.

  “Yeah, just don’t.” Her body remained as still as a sniper blending into brush.

  “I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me.” That was the hundredth apology for the day. It had to be a record considering he apologized… never, whether he should have or not. Strange. Mia tested him in a way he didn’t know possible. Hell. Strange didn’t even begin to describe it.

  “You should be sorry.” She looked tart. Her lips parsed together, and the bridge of her nose scrunched in a wrinkle.

  That was one confusing look. This was why he shouldn’t mix it up with her. Why he didn’t mix it up with any woman who wanted more than an exchange of first names. Then again, he liked knowing that Mia was Mia Kensington. Whatever. His blood sugar must’ve been low or something. He continued to cover ground in search of the car.

  “Wanna explain the attitude?” Was he auditioning for Dr. Phil’s job? Christ.

  “I heard you back at the gas station. I love you?” She mocked. “I heard you talking to your wife or girlfriend or whatever.”

  He laughed. This shit’s funny. Of course she heard him. He knew she was too close. This was funny, but he kept that to himself, instead opting to tighten his hold. More of a hug, really.

  An abandoned car sat on an access road, closed the distance like he just saw a sign screaming it was two-for-one freebie day at Glock and Company. She fought the hold, pushing her shoulders away from him, but he couldn’t have cared less, and he worked to not chuckle out loud.

  “You’re cute when you’re jealous,” he said and kissed her nose.

  She hissed and squirmed in his arms again. Her backside unintentionally rubbed on his forearm.

  Christ, he might not live through this day. “Mia, would you cut that out? You’re distracting me.”

  “No. I’m out of here.” Rub, rub, rub.

  “Right. And where you going?”

  “It doesn’t concern you.”

  She was too much. Enough with all the snark and scoots. They killed him. With each sway of her backside, he was digging his grave. Each time he hit the rocky bottom, he’d just start over fresh.

  He stopped at the car. “Here you go. Down as you requested. Your chariot awaits.”

  She crossed her arms and tapped a bare foot.

  “Fine. We can do this again.” He scooped her up, jacked open the passenger door, and plopped her in, then moved to the driver’s seat. The keys were in the ignition. Excellent—easier than hot-wiring the thing. He twisted the key. The sedan turned over and idled. The radio came on. Elton John’s “Can You Feel the Love Tonight”.

  Funny. So very funny.

  “I can feel something.” Mia pressed buttons on the radio. Static and garbled stations filtered in through the speakers.

  “You’re testy when you’re like this. It’s cute.” He repositioned his chair and chuckled. “This whole jealous thing is adorable.”

  She jammed the buttons on the radio harder. “Jealous? You’re a piece of work. Stop talking to me.”

  “You’re mad that we kissed. That you grabbed me. Not used to the whole white knight thing? Or are you upset that you were turned on in the truck?” He slid the tip of a finger from her cheek to her chin. She batted it away, hard.

  “White knight? Are you insane?”

  She glared at him. Oh, if looks could kill, Winters would’ve been on the next bus to Morgue City.

  “Some would say yes to both white knight and insane. But from you, I’ll take strategic, operational genius. Handsome man who keeps saving you. Take your pick.”

  “There’s something wrong with you.”

  “I thought you analyzed me already and turned up empty-handed.”

  “That was before I knew you.”

  “And where is all this coming from again? Oh yeah, cause you were eavesdropping and heard me say I love you.”

  She turned up the static on the radio loud enough it hurt his ears. Calling her out wasn’t the best move he had in his arsenal but better than ignoring her.

  He turned the volume down, steered them back on to the road with one hand draped over the steering wheel, and followed the road’s turn as it passed by the gas station. As expected, blue and red flashing lights flooded the area. Local troopers combed through the store and his truck, wondering what the hell just happened in their one gas station, two stop light town.

  If they hadn’t found the bodies already, they’d be stumped. Podunk Kentucky didn’t see a lot of shootouts, and it didn’t have a regular body count.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  After the gas station debacle and two separate motel incidents, Diego Cortes didn’t have the disk or the lady. She was on the run with a proficient partner. Sweat soaked through his shirt. If El Jefe knew of his failures, it would be a writ of execution. Juan Carlos Silva was as vicious as he was creative. This was bad, but he could salvage it. Diego’s reputation and beating heart were on the line, and if ever there were a chance to prove he was worthy, it was now.

  Representing the Silva Cartel was an honor. He wouldn’t fail.

  The Lady of the Rosary medallion under his collar stuck to his chest. He pulled it out and flipped the medal between his fingers. Santa Madre de Dios, please help.

  Diego was the last man standing and, like he was told by Senor Silva, he needed to use his brains. He should have done that before, but, no, his head was too big. Hiring local criminals was a mistake. More than a mistake. They were amateurs. And now, they were de
ad. He’d handed them a handful of bills after trolling for sordid men jonesing for an American dollar. He should have found an investment instead of a quick fix.

  He knew Senor Silva better than most. Diego slaved under his tutelage, earned his trust, and swore to the Virgin Mary his loyalty. If he didn’t complete his task, Senor Silva would take immense pleasure in his death. He would nurse a crystal glass of high priced liquor, bleed him out, and delight in calling his mama. Senor would torture her, recounting how Diego failed the Silva cartel. Their family, his legacy obliterated. How his mama would weep, mourning for so many reasons.

  No. Success must happen. The holy medallion slipped back under his shirt, tangling in his chest hair. It pulled, ripped a hair loose at the root, and reminded him this sting was a mosquito bite compared to what could happen.

  He prayed for strengths and triumph. Santa Maria, Madre de Dios.

  Winters eyed Mia. She rolled the window down, slapping the button as it shorted out, twice. He needed to do the same, anything to air out the stench of leftover fast food and stale smoke. The car was disgusting. The steering wheel was sticky, and empty beer cans rolled on the floorboards. He needed to wash his hands pronto. This clunker was foul, but according to Titan, not hot.

  “So who do you love, Colby?”

  Her question swung him out of autopilot. He wouldn’t tell her the truth. “What’s it to you?”

  “Never mind. You’re such a jackass.” She huffed, pushed further away from him against the car door. Her foot shoved a beer can aside. She sucked on her lip, and he could all but taste the resentment. Mia had mastered the art of a first-rate sulk, and it tested his resolve.

  “Wow. You come off as so put together and analytical. I’m surprised you’ve resulted to name calling.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “Obviously,” he said.

  She turned to face him. “I have no idea who you are. I have no idea who you love. And I have no idea why…”

  “Why do you care?” That was way too harsh. But he didn’t want to answer her question. He couldn’t. He needed to protect himself. He should have stuck with the brilliant plan of lies.

  “I already said never mind. Just leave me alone.”

  He didn’t want to leave her alone. That was part of the problem. Winters checked over his shoulder before changing lanes, stealing a glance at her pouting lip and tight eyebrows. Tears brimmed on her bottom eyelids. I’m an asshole. He looked again. Yup, tears were idling up for a free fall. Oh hell. Don’t do that. I can’t stand your tears.

  But as soon as he thought it, he cringed. He didn’t need her in his life. He shouldn’t share anything personal. It was easier to fight with her than speak the truth, but the bickering wasn’t worth her hurt feelings.

  Winters shook his head at what he was about to say. His secrets were bubbling free. His typical MO abandoned him miles ago. Right now, he’d do anything to get rid of those wet eyes.

  “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Mia. I was talking to my mom.”

  Could he not keep his mouth shut? Work world. Personal life. Two very separate things. The two worlds didn’t comingle. They shouldn’t. For a million reasons, they simply could not. Loose lips sink ships. His ship was far too precious to make vulnerable. But here he was, unable to keep his lips sealed. All because some beautiful babe pouted? He glanced at her. Yeah, her angelic face would do it.

  Days ago, that revelation was implausible. Today, no other choice existed. He’d knock out her hurt and jealousy like he took out the enemy who attacked her.

  He opened his trap to again to explain. “My—”

  “Your mom? Are you kidding me? Big, tough badass calls his mommy when he can’t come home from work? You’re worse than I thought. I didn’t think my asshole meter was this far off.”

  Like an attacking rattler, she had drawn back and fired with spitting accuracy. Given this once in a lifetime bout of honesty, he didn’t see it coming. But now that she’d made her move, it was game on.

  “My, my, Miss Mia. You’re about to get a taste of foot in mouth syndrome.”

  “Try me.”

  “With pleasure, babe. My mom babysits for me, doll. I have a daughter. A baby. Tiny tyke. Cute as she can be. And my mom watches her when I work.”

  Mia’s jaw fell wide open. Ding, ding, ding. That was what he wanted to see. Mia was dumbstruck—and pretty as hell—but with nothing sassy to say. One of his prouder moments of the day.

  Still, his gut churned, anxious over his revelations. He was stupid to say this much. Yet, somehow he needed her validation. He cast a glance her way, hoping for her reaction to justify his trust.

  “I didn’t know.” Mia shifted on the vinyl car seat, crossing her ankles, and crunching an empty fast food wrapper.

  “Why would you know?”

  “You don’t seem like the fatherly type.”

  “I bet I don’t seem like a lot of things.”

  She gaped. Score one for Team Winters. He couldn’t shake his grin. Hell, if he’d known he could smile this much. His cheeks hurt. They were possibly the only muscle he didn’t work out on the regular.

  “And the baby’s mother is?”

  “It’s complicated.” The answer was an automatic defense mechanism. His mouth again spoke before his mind gave it the okay to proceed. His attitude was meant to protect his baby but served only to deflate Mia.

  She sat still, hands folded in her lap, awaiting a simple explanation. Her therapist brain must’ve been in psychoanalytic overdrive. Simple was the furthest thing from the truth. He was already facing deep waters. Time to swan dive. “My line of work leads me straight to hell on a better than average day.”

  Mia watched him in the dark car. He changed lanes needlessly, rubbing the back of his neck, then checked all his mirrors again, adjusting the rearview even though it was fine. Nerves punched, and he thought about backpedaling. “I like to keep my private life private.”

  She still didn’t say anything. Must’ve been the therapist in her working him over. And, boy, she was good. He could barely keep the story contained. He fidgeted with the temperature controls and scanned the radio stations. Nothing but static. Stupid mountains. Mia remained quiet, and he couldn’t find anything to do other than recount the story. Ears over asshole, Winters dove into the truth.

  “We busted up a very bad situation. Human traffickers, sex trade fuckers. There weren’t a lot of girls we could save, but we got some safe, back to the States. Everyone picked up new identities. Except one lady. A girl, in all honesty. She wouldn’t. Her name was Vanessa, and she was a beauty queen look-alike with a brass set of— She was a tough one. Kind of like you.” He paused, pissed his mouth ran off again before the brain gave a thumbs-up. “Anyway, she wasn’t going to give up her life. College. Friends. Though she had no family to speak of. Little did I know, she was pregnant. No idea who the father was. They did bad things to her.”

  “That’s horrible.” Mia was a thousand notches quieter than when she doled out her quips.

  “Vanessa went back to college in Cali, and that was the last time I heard from her. A few months later, California Child Protective Services showed up on my doorstep, newborn and diaper bag in tow. Vanessa died mysteriously. She apparently listed me as the father. And in her will, she left a key to a safety deposit box.”

  Mia didn’t say a word. He wasn’t even sure she was breathing.

  “You tell me how many college girls write out a will. None. She knew those fuckers tracked her. She knew if anything happened to her that baby would be safe with me. I found a note in the safety deposit box explaining everything to me. So that’s who I love. My mom and my daughter.”

  Static played on the radio. He didn’t make a move to change the dial, concentrating on the road. It was the first time he told the story to a stranger. Right now, she was anything but. Anxiety gave way to relief. Somehow, he was content in his decision to enlighten Mia.

  She slid both her warm hands over his nea
rest forearm. His skin tingled and the rush carried into his chest.

  “Colby, I was way off base. I’m sorry.”

  “There’s no way you’d know. Anyway, Clara’s single-digits months old. She’s my world. And I’m lucky to have my mom and trustworthy peeps around. That trust now extends to you. It’s better you know anyway.”

  “Why’s that?”

  He’d have to clue her in to his op plan eventually. What a plan…if it could be called that.

  “’Cause I’m bringing you to my place until we figure out what the hell is going on. It’d be a shade past awkward if I roll up, and all of the sudden, you have to hang with my family.”

  “We’re going to your home?” Her fingers clenched, her nails biting into him.

  He ignored her reaction and smiled in the dark. “It’s the safest place I know. I have to stash us off the grid. I’ve never brought anyone there before, other than family and the team, so this is an adventure for both of us.”

  If Mia had guessed what type of person Colby was, she would’ve been wrong. If she guessed what would transpire after deciding to get that disk in Kentucky and go for a cross-country ride with him, she’d have been wrong on that account also. No, actually, she’d have been dead.

  They barreled down the highway, on the way to his home. To his family. She shook off a shudder. No one would describe her as family oriented. Family conjured up the worst memories, and even in her therapy practice, she held her nose when discussing it. What kind of psychologist did that make her? Not one worthy of the distinctions she somehow pulled off.

  Then again, her family wasn’t on the agenda. He wasn’t trying to enmesh her into his, nor was he taking her home. He was keeping her safe. Keeping her alive. Right about now, that was worthy of a champagne toast and kiss on the lips. Or cheeks. Cheeks would be safer around him.

  Exhaustion clouded her mind, but still, she studied him, thinking of their kisses. He concentrated on the dark highway, only the dashboard lights illuminating the chiseled hardness in his jaw. It looked more than capable of taking a punch. He was none the worse from earlier. And those lips. They promised to keep her safe. The whole act was… attractive. In an evolutionary sense. Women were attracted to alpha males for biologic reasons.