the shortcut to the beach, grille first. She struggled to keep the three good tires on the asphalt. Tack leaped to his feet. He leaned over the back of Cate’s seat and clutched the wheel. Her hands looked tiny compared to his as he gripped the plastic hard and tugged them away from the cliff. They managed to come to a precarious stop in the middle of the road.
“Oh, my God,” Cate breathed, her chest heaving. “We could’ve...”
“We didn’t,” Tack said, reaching over and throwing the vehicle into Park. “You okay?” He knew shock when he saw it, and Cate looked like she might faint. He moved over beside her in the open area between her and the accordion door of the minibus. “Hey, look at me.”
She stared numbly at him, eyes wide and pupils dilated. For a split second, she wasn’t a mark, and he wasn’t a detective. This was just a scared woman about to hyperventilate sitting in front of him.
“We’re okay,” he said.
Behind them, someone slammed on their brakes, honked and veered around them.
“I know.” She abruptly pulled her hands away and was herself once more, regaining her senses, almost as if she’d woken up from a daydream, or day nightmare. She flipped on her hazard lights and stood. “I’ve got a spare tire in the back. Hopefully, a jack that works.”
The record time she’d taken to recover from the near accident impressed him. This was a woman who didn’t crack under pressure.
Of course, women who try to kill their husbands usually don’t.
Tack glanced out the window and the other cars speeding around them. They wouldn’t be safe for long here, and they needed to get the minibus moving before someone slammed into them on this narrow road. Cate was already at the back panel, wrenching up the trapdoor and lugging out a near bald Michelin.
“Whoa, there,” Tack began. “I can help...”
“What? This old thing?” She grinned at him, a gorgeous, effortlessly flirty smile, and he felt his crotch grow tight. “I’ve got it.”
And it looked like she was going to take that tire and the partly rusted jack with the paint flecking off and fix this thing before Tack could even get a word in about it. When she leaned in to get the tire iron, Tack easily slipped it from her hands. No need to arm the woman. From what he’d heard, she was dangerous enough all on her own.
“Please, ma’am. I insist.”
* * *
CATE EYED THE muscled marine kneeling by the front tire of her ancient minibus and felt a ripple of unease. He attacked the rusted lug nuts, and she tried not to be distracted by the fact that the muscles in his forearms rippled when he loosened the nuts with hardly any effort. He glanced up and met her gaze, showing even white teeth, his brown eyes warm.
Bet he gets any girl he wants, she thought, feeling her own abdomen grow warm as she watched him wrench the old tire free, his biceps engaging as he lifted it up. Sexy ex-marine probably never gets told no. She felt a pull suddenly, a flush of desire run through her. How long had it been since she’d even had sex?
Normally, she was able to push those feelings aside, but watching the marine work made her mind go to places she thought she’d long since forgotten.
Relationships were too risky. One-night stands are fine. Anything more and you’re just asking for trouble, Cate.
But Cate wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of girl. Of course, after Rick Allen, she wasn’t sure forever love even existed. And, now, I can’t try for it, either. It’s too much of a risk.
She knew she’d be giving up things when she took her boy and ran. She’d gladly sacrifice forever love if it meant her boy would be safe. If it meant Rick Allen could never hurt him—or her—again. Being alone was better than being hurt. Better than being...controlled, imprisoned in her own house.
You’re mine, he’d said the night she left. You belong to me. You’ll never get away.
That had been more than three years ago. I did get away, Rick. I did. And I’m never going back.
She focused on Tack’s lean back, the muscles of his broad shoulders taut against the thin fabric of his shirt as he slipped the spare tire on the minibus. The loud whoosh of cars passing at speeds faster than they should whirred in her ears, yet she paid them no heed. Her whole focus was on Tack.
Something about this man made her feel distinctly off balance, and it wasn’t the fact that he had the body of a Greek god, either. He was tan, far too tan to be a mainlander who’d only just come to St. Anthony’s for a little getaway. As he turned his attention back to the tire, she saw the strip of red on his neck—a fresh sunburn. That’s not the kind of tan anybody gets in Seattle in February, she reasoned.
Could he be working for Rick?
As soon as the panic rose in in her throat, she swallowed it. Don’t be paranoid. Guilty people do that. Guilty people get jumpy, and jumpy people get caught. And you’re just being paranoid.
Of course he’s not working for Rick. Rick doesn’t know where you are. You’re fine.
For a bright second, she was back in her husband’s house, standing at the top of the stairs, clutching her baby boy. She’d never forget the sight of Rick’s body, lying motionless at the bottom of the marble landing, the fear and horror in her throat suffocating her. He’d been so terribly still, lying in that unnatural way, his leg bent at the wrong angle.
She felt her heart speed up, the blood thrumming through her veins, the panic of that night fresh in her mind. She had to will herself to calm down. She wasn’t there. She’d never be there again. Not if I can help it.
He glanced up at her, squinting against the sun, and flashed another smile. She forced herself to relax.
“So you live in Seattle. I love that city,” she said, trying not to sound like she was probing his backstory, which she was. “I went there once, after college. My roommate’s house overlooked the Sound. Was gorgeous. Where do you live?”
“A neighborhood called Wallingford,” he said, without so much as a hitch. “I’ve got a condo that looks out over Woodland Park. Ever been there?”
“No, I don’t think so. It was a long time since I went.” She bit her lip. So he passed the first test. He’s just a tourist, like any other tourist. Don’t go looking for trouble where there’s none. He tightened the lug nuts on the new tire, a small bead of sweat visible on his smooth forehead. He lowered the bus on the jack and popped up, swiping his hands free of dirt.
“That ought to get us there,” he said, and straightened. He was so damn tall. And those muscles. He took a step closer to her and without thinking, Cate backed up. He was too big, too...muscled... Too damn attractive. She felt his gravitational pull and the only way to break the spell was to somehow get out of his orbit. She took another step backward and a flash of alarm lit his face as he looked over her shoulder.
Before Cate knew it, he’d grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed her against the side of the minibus. Before she could even squeak, an oversize white delivery truck rumbled past. Too big for any one lane, its white cab would’ve knocked Cate flat if it weren’t for Tack.
She could feel him breathing as
