to scan the area for easy exits and potential threats.
She nodded. “The police are right over—”
“Protected by me. Garrett would kill me if I did otherwise.” Jeremy put his hand on her elbow before she could bolt. He pulled her toward the car in a tug he hoped appeared to bystanders as more concerned and loving than covert. “And we need to go now.”
She shifted her weight to her heels and skidded to a stop. “Are you running from the police or something?”
“I’m a different kind of law enforcement. Border Patrol. And I’m trying to get us out of here before the guy who set off the explosion finds us.”
Her body went limp at that. “You think the guy from the front door is still alive?”
“I’m not willing to wait around and find out.” Jeremy took advantage of her momentary shock and crowded her against the side of the car.
His body blocked her view of the house and, more importantly, the police’s view of her. Using his weight and height advantage, he pressed against her until she lifted her leg and slipped onto the seat.
Joel’s mouth kicked up. “Nice move.” He jumped into the driver’s seat.
Without Joel’s shoulders blocking the view, Jeremy saw the other end of the street. Spied the man standing behind a trio of neighborhood wives who were still holding a bottle of wine and glasses as they hovered in a yard three houses down. It was the same man who’d triggered the blaze.
The roar of the car engine as it turned over bolted Jeremy into action. “Hold up.”
“I never agreed…” She followed Jeremy’s gaze, peeking over the seat in front of her. “What’s wrong with you? What do you see?”
“The bomber.” Jeremy already had the door open and his feet on the ground.
She grabbed his sleeve. She weighed all of 130 pounds and she trapped his elbow in a deadlock. “Don’t you dare leave this car.”
“He’s headed between two houses near the end of the street.”
“And you are not leaving me alone—” her gaze flicked to the back of Joel’s head “—here.”
Joel eyed her in the rearview mirror. “I won’t hurt you.”
The churning in Jeremy’s gut revved up when the bomber ducked behind the house.
This time she dug her fingernails into his arm. “Yeah, well, I’ve seen enough woman-abducted-and-left-in-pieces-in-a-box television specials not to take your word for it.”
Jeremy knew he could rip his arm out of her grasp, but he didn’t want to hurt her. Didn’t want to lose his one lead either. “Not sure what to say to that, but—”
Her second hand joined the first and she started tugging him back into the car as he looked around. “No.”
One of the policemen herding the crowds onto the sidewalk picked that moment to look up. His gaze zeroed in on the SUV and Jeremy knew his time for an explosive run had passed. Scram now and he’d have the police following.
Jeremy ground his teeth together. “The guy is getting away.”
“You’re the one who insisted on dragging me along with you, so now you’re stuck.”
Joel barked out a laugh. “Guess she told you.”
Jeremy took one last look at the policeman. He waved off the woman talking to him and reached for the radio on his shoulder. Jeremy knew the drill. The officer would run Joel’s license plates. Then who knew what would happen.
“This car yours?” Jeremy asked as he closed the door again and leaned back in his seat. He winced over the ripping sensation in his side but pushed the pain out of his mind.
“It’s registered to a company.”
“A real one?”
“On paper only.”
Meredith surrendered the death grip on his arm but didn’t let go. “That’s comforting.”
Despite his fury over losing his prey, Jeremy agreed with her sarcasm. “Drive around the corner and I’ll see if I can find our guy on the next block.”
“You’re still not leaving this car.” She mumbled the comment as she stared at his profile.
Jeremy tried to remember the last time he’d let a woman’s begging derail a chase. Then it hit him…never.
ELLIS MARTIN SMOOTHED his fingers over his mustache. He’d had the thing for almost thirty years, since he graduated from college. The small action soothed him. In this case, it kept him from exploding all over his new and supposedly brilliant assistant.
His throat ached with the need to scream, but Ellis fought back the rage. “I’ve run out of patience.”
“I understand, sir. But—”
“Stop there.” All the impressive grades in his Ivy League education hadn’t taught Andrew Hare the common-sense business principle of knowing when to shut up and listen. Ellis decided the younger man had better learn quickly or he’d have one of the shortest tenures in the Defense Intelligence Agency ever—four days.
Counterintelligence demanded a steep learning curve, and so far Andrew had spent most of his time repeating instructions. Book smart, maybe. Capable of reading reactions and completing difficult tasks? Not so far.
“Excuse me, sir?”
And he said excuse me far too often. “Hill has been out of contact and running for a week now. I’ve had enough. You bring Hill back here, now. In pieces if you have to.”
“We have a problem.”
“That’s not a sentence I want to hear.” Ellis leaned back in his big leather chair. He wrapped his fingers around the arms to fight off the urge to strangle Andrew. Human Resources hated that sort of thing.
“I know, but—”
His nails dug a little deeper. “I want results, not excuses.”
“Our man just got to the scene. He says the place is on fire.”
“What?”
“Witnesses said they heard a loud bang. An explosion. The windows blew out and the fire raced out of control almost immediately.” Andrew talked so fast the sentences ran into each other.
Ellis glanced over his shoulder. If his office had a window, if any of the offices on this floor had one, it would be right behind him. Instead, this part of the suite consisted of interior rooms. No one could look in, and thanks to a list of security procedures, no information got out. Or that was the theory.
“It was a gas leak.” He’d said the response enough times for it to become automatic. The cover worked well enough for him to have the appropriate form in his desk
