A Silent Pursuit. Lynette Eason

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on 17.” She didn’t have to explain which one; he’d been there enough times with Mario. “Can you pick me up there? How far away are you?”

      “Stay put,” he said. “I’m about three minutes from you.”

      “Oh, thank you,” she breathed. He could almost taste the fear flowing from her as she whispered, “Hurry.”

      His foot pressed the pedal harder. He’d told her he was three minutes away. He’d do his best to make it in ninety seconds.

      TWO

      Gina hung up the pay phone and, ignoring the occasional strange look from the diner patrons, scurried to the window. Her breath still came in pants although she’d recovered from her run. It was the terror still quaking through her that stole the air from her lungs. She’d been so careful. How had they found her?

      Probably her cell phone. They’d obviously tracked her with no problem and had, no doubt, laughed all the way up the highway.

      Mario, what were you up to? What did you hide? And where did you hide it? Who were you hiding it from? I don’t even know if you were one of the good guys now.

      Tears clogged her throat at the betraying thought. But she didn’t let them fall. She never would have thought he’d do something to put her in danger, and yet by dying, he’d apparently done just that. It had taken six months, but obviously he’d led the trail straight to her.

      Headlights flashed in the parking lot.

      Bad guys or Ian?

      She looked at the clock on the wall. About a minute and a half had passed. The lights flashed once more. Then again.

      Ian.

      She bolted out the door into the drizzle, which had started the minute she’d entered the restaurant. Her bare feet slapped the wooden porch, then the steps. The door opened from the inside.

      Throwing herself into the passenger seat, she slammed the door just as a bullet pierced the windshield to bury itself in the backseat.

      Ian hissed, put a hand on her head and shoved her down in the seat. “Hold on!”

      “I’m so sorry I had to drag you into this,” she squealed.

      “We’ll get to that later.” He threw the gearshift lever into Reverse and screeched from the parking lot. Another bullet hit the back windshield and shattered it.

      Glass flew.

      Ian drove.

      Gina prayed.

      It seemed like hours, but in reality, according to the dash clock, only seven minutes had passed since the last bullet.

      “I think I lost them.” He grunted and turned left.

      She pushed herself into a sitting position, brushing stray bits of glass from her legs and hair, careful not to cut herself. Turning to the man beside her, she gasped, “You have perfect timing.”

      “Actually, I was running late due to an unforeseen circumstance with my commander, but I’m here now and you’re in more trouble than you let on.”

      “When I called you, I didn’t know how bad they wanted me.”

      “Why call me? Why not the cops?”

      “Because they’ll just turn it over to the army.”

      “And that’s a bad thing?”

      “It is if there’s a traitor on the base.”

      That shut him up. Then he asked, “Who?”

      “I don’t know. All I know is that Mario died during a training exercise. At least that’s what I was told. Who really knows what happened?” Sarcasm dripped. “But if that’s the case, then someone set him up.”

      “How do you figure?”

      She remained silent for moment.

      “Gina?”

      “I don’t have any proof. Just a gut feeling. And I know you’ll think that’s crazy, but someone has tried to kill me twice, so I’m leaning on trusting my gut at this point in time.”

      This time he paused as he glanced in the rearview mirror, then the side. “Sometimes your gut’s the only thing worth trusting.”

      Tears flooded her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I don’t know what Mario had that these people want. I mean, I’m just a real estate agent from a small town in South Carolina who happened to fall in love with a guy who had a lot of secrets—ones he didn’t bother sharing with me. Or couldn’t share. Who knows? I don’t know anything except that they think I have whatever it is they’re after. Which means I need to figure out what it is and find it before they find me. And I think I need your help to do that.” The words spilled from her in one breath. She finally paused and drew in some air.

      “I would say you’re on the right track.” He gave her a gentle smile, and for the first time since her mad dash into the car, she noticed his rugged good looks. She’d always thought him a handsome man, had actually been attracted to him, but had been so committed to Mario, she’d ignored those feelings.

      Tonight they returned with a rush.

      Wow.

      Immediately, she felt guilty. As if she’d just betrayed Mario in some way. It must be the terror-induced adrenaline spiking her senses into hyperawareness. She looked away.

      Forcing her thoughts to focus on the important thing—like getting away from a killer—she said, “I had to slip out of a back window at the beach house. I’ve got nothing on me. I don’t know whether to go back to the house and try to get my stuff or have my parents wire me some money. I’m sure they’re already worried enough. I don’t want to add putting them in any kind of danger.”

      He placed a hand over hers. “I’ve got you covered. Let’s find a safe place to hole up and hash out what just happened. Then we can worry about other necessities.”

      Ian found a little out-of-the-way hotel room and asked for two rooms. Gina stood beside him, shivering, her bare feet probably frozen. He had one person in mind to call whom he trusted, no questions asked. Jason Sutton. A man whose skills as a Ranger had saved Ian’s hide on more than one occasion. A onetime fellow Ranger in the same unit Ian and Mario had served in and a good friend to them both, Jase would come through for him—he hoped.

      Finally, they made it to the rooms. Gina entered hers and Ian followed her in. He chose the desk chair, while Gina sat at the table, hands clasped in front of her. Wild dark curls had found freedom from the pink scrunchy that now encircled the lower portion of a ponytail gone bad. She didn’t seem to notice.

      “First,” he said as he set his bag in the second chair, “I’ve called my sister, Carly. She’s a U.S. marshal who’s going to come stay with you tonight to protect you while I focus on looking for the guys who just tried to kill us. The faster I’m able to get on this, the faster we’ll figure it out. Now, the

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