duct-taped beneath the seat to start the engine. He slammed his foot on the accelerator and got them out of there.
“Stay down,” Matt insisted.
She did, sort of. Cass slid lower into the seat, but she kept her attention focused on the side mirror. She also kept a solid grip on her gun. Matt kept watch, as well, and then he got them the hell out of there.
Kicking up ice and dirt, he plowed through the ravine and exited onto a path that would eventually take them to a back road and then the highway.
Matt dodged some scrub oaks, barely scraping past them, and he checked the rearview mirror. No gunman in sight. That didn’t mean there soon wouldn’t be. He had to make it past the next rise and dry creek bed before he could even start to level his breathing.
Next to him, Cass was doing her own share of heavy breathing. He could see every muscle in her body knotted, the pulse on her neck pounding. The adrenaline was no doubt still pumping through her. It wouldn’t last long, and she’d soon have to deal with the inevitable crash.
“I don’t see him,” Cass announced. “Do you think he’ll come after us?”
“Not easily he won’t. By now he’s probably rushing back to his vehicle. Maybe calling for reinforcements. If we’re lucky, he might be making arrangements to get his comrade to the hospital.”
Matt knew he should call headquarters. He should report this, especially since he’d discharged his weapon and injured a man. But what if Cass was right? What if there was a breach in security? If so, his personal cell phone would be easy to track.
She checked the mirror again. Then she leaned forward and tried to turn on the heater.
“It doesn’t work,” he explained, turning off the cold blast of air from the fan. “There’s a blanket behind the seat.”
While still staying low, she draped her arm over the back of the seat and fished it out. “There’s only one blanket?”
He nodded. “Use it. Your lips are turning blue.”
Matt wasn’t sure she was going to follow his advice, but then she glanced down at the front of her camisole, noticing her very erect nipples. And that wasn’t the only thing. The camisole was short, and the shortness revealed several inches of her bare stomach.
He felt that slam of lust shoot through his body, and he silently cursed his brainless reaction.
“Cover up,” he snarled.
She did, finally, but she kept her shooting arm free by draping the fake Navajo-design blanket over only half her body. For some stupid reason, she seemed even hotter and more provocative than she did without the blanket.
“All right. I’m covered. Satisfied?” she asked.
Not even close.
Cass glanced at him, sat up in the seat, did a full 360-degree check of their surroundings and, apparently content that they were safe, she opened the glove compartment. “You have a first-aid kit?”
Alarmed, he looked at her. “Are you hurt?”
“No. But you are.” She pointed to the jagged slice across his left bicep. He hadn’t even been aware of the injury, but it looked to be from a bullet.
She extracted the small travel-size kit and scooted across the seat toward him. Very close to him. She brought with her the scent of the woods. The fragrant cedars. The leaves. The winter soil. The smoke. But she also brought the smell of flowers. Her shampoo, he discovered, when she leaned across him and her hair went right in his face. It was distracting. But not nearly as distracting as having her firm, small breasts pressed against his right arm.
“You saved my life back there,” she said, working quickly to clean the wound. “So, while I’m not thrilled about what just happened, I have faith in you.”
Matt winced, both at her comment and the poking around she was doing to his injury. “Faith?”
Cass’s gaze met his. So did her breath. “Yes. You know, as in confidence in your ability to keep us alive and get into Dominic’s estate.”
Matt leaned back to put some distance between them, and he took the ramp that led to Highway 281, which would take them directly into San Antonio. “Don’t have that kind of faith in me.”
She shrugged and kept working on the bandage. “Too late.”
“It’s never too late. Let me tell you something about me. I don’t play well with others. I do mainly solo assignments because that’s the way I like it.”
“Keep talking,” she insisted. “Because this is going to hurt, and I’d rather you have your mind on something else when I do this—”
Without further warning, she doused his wound with antiseptic. And she was right.
It. Frickin’. Hurt.
Matt barely muffled a groan.
“Besides, faith is sort of a moot point,” she continued. “I have to trust you.”
Hell. Now they were onto trust. What next? Fuzzy teddy bears and air kisses?
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