need. I go where the job takes me.”
Okay. That put her in her place. She was an assignment. “Still, I appreciate it. I’ve handled myself in plenty of tough situations, but this has me rattled.”
As if sensing her distress, Sammy nudged her neck with his nose. She reached back to scratch his muzzle. “It’s okay,” she murmured. His wet tongue laved her cheek, the small gesture of affection warming her.
“He’s a good animal,” the man at her side observed.
She let her nod answer for her, afraid that her voice would break if she said that Sammy was far more than that.
She returned to her study of the bodyguard. He deserved to know what he was up against. “The tangos on my tail belong to the Collective.”
“I’ve been briefed.” His face hardened, along with his voice.
“Just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”
“Gotcha. The Collective doesn’t play nice with others.”
“No kidding? I think they murdered my mother.” She left it at that. There’d be time enough later to go into details, that Bernice’s throat had been slashed, nearly to the bone.
Sammy nudged her with his nose.
“Do you need to go out?” The shepherd gave a sharp bark, and she turned to Mace. “Can we stop?”
He pulled to the side of the road. “Make it quick. Unless I’m wrong, there’ll be others on your tail besides those two idiots back there.”
She hopped out of the truck, let Sammy out. He spent a minute sniffing the grass before settling down to business.
“Good boy.” She patted her leg. “I wish we could let him run,” she said as Mace joined them. “He’s not used to being cooped up.”
“Sorry. We’ve got to keep moving.”
His words triggered a nasty memory. While she’d been deployed in Afghanistan, her unit had been assigned to take down a munitions dump. They’d succeeded but had taken fire, leaving a couple of men wounded, which had slowed them down. A small band of the enemy had managed to escape into the hills and then proceeded to track Laurel and her men relentlessly, intent on revenge. They had lost a man in the ensuing fight.
“Believe me, I know.”
* * *
Mace didn’t fool himself into thinking that they were home free. There were bound to be others tailing his newest client.
He wasn’t often taken by surprise, but Laurel Landry had managed to do just that. Instead of the hard-edged female Ranger he’d expected, he saw a beautiful woman with auburn hair, golden eyes and a soft mouth.
Not that she was soft. She handled herself like the professional soldier she was.
It was that dichotomy that intrigued him.
The big shepherd stayed at her side. Having only three legs didn’t lessen the fierce protectiveness he displayed when Mace made to help Laurel back in the truck. A sharp woof told Mace to back off.
“Sorry,” Laurel said. “Sammy’s appointed himself my guardian.” She knelt and wrapped her arms around the dog’s big neck. “It’s okay. He’s a friend.” She gestured for Mace to put out his hand to Sammy, who sniffed it. “Friend.”
“At the risk of offending Sammy, can I give you a hand?” Mace had noticed she favored her right shoulder.
“Sure.”
“What happened to your shoulder?” he asked as she winced when reaching for her seat belt.
“I took shrapnel from an IED.” When she didn’t say anything more, he took the hint to back off from further questions.
On their way again, they talked little except to exchange ideas for the best route to Atlanta. He gave the lady credit for keeping conversation to a minimum. Small talk was not part of his skill set. It was the same for most of the soldiers in spec-ops. You want polite chitchat, you join a ladies’ garden society. You want results, you get yourself a Ranger.
He eyed the Sig Sauer P226 that showed beneath her jacket. “Nice toy you got there.”
“Thanks.” She glanced at the Glock 17 he carried in a shoulder holster. “Same goes.”
“It does the job.”
Right now the job meant getting the client out of harm’s way. He had no doubt that other men would pick up their tail quickly enough. With that in mind, he sifted through the choices. Keep to the back roads, hoping to fly under the radar. Or hit the freeway with the idea of losing themselves in the mix of vehicles heading east. Each came with a risk.
Part of his Ranger training was evaluating risks. A county road or the freeway? A county road was less likely to be patrolled by the tangos. On the other hand, there was safety in being able to lose themselves in the hundreds of vehicles that filled the freeway like an army of ants.
The freeway it was.
He took the ramp and merged into the steady stream of impatient drivers. Middle-of-the day traffic was only slightly less congested than that of early morning or late afternoon. He switched lanes, moving into the right where slower vehicles were directed. He had no problem going fast—none at all—but the slower pace would make it easier to spot a tail.
“You’re pretty cool for having been chased by thugs,” he said.
“Getting upset isn’t going to change things. Besides, it uses energy I may need on down the road.”
She was right about that. They weren’t out of the woods yet, and despite her calm words, he knew she was wound tightly. He saw it in the compressed lips and tightly clenched hands. She was likely running on fumes. When they gave out...
He shook his head at the probable outcome. Even a Ranger could go only so far without refueling. Adrenaline layered upon danger would have her crashing in an hour or so. He needed to get her somewhere safe, somewhere she could rest.
He glanced at her, noted the grayness of her skin that spoke of exhaustion. Even with that and the shadows beneath her eyes, energy vibrated from her. “You don’t say much.”
“I figured you as the type who didn’t appreciate idle talk.”
“You figured right.”
She lifted a brow. “Then what’s the problem?”
“No problem. Just wondering what you did to make those yahoos so mad.”
“Let’s just say they woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
While he appreciated a woman who didn’t chatter all the time, he was looking for answers. “What do you know about the Collective?”
“Not as much as I’d like. I know Ronnie Winston’s been in federal lockup for the last year.”
“You
