slow down,” he commanded.
She drove faster. “You have a gun.” The shakes were back, worse, much worse than they had been before. And the car behind them was close. Too close.
She didn’t know people who carried guns. She didn’t want to know people who carried guns.
She pressed harder on the gas pedal. The van shimmied as it clattered over the washboard of the graveled road. The steering wheel became slick beneath her sweaty palms.
A reverberating ping echoed through the van, sounding like a single huge hailstone striking a hollow can. Boo yelped.
“Oh, God, they just shot at us, didn’t they?”
“Damn straight.”
“Boo—she’s okay?”
He reached down to pat the dog, who had wedged herself in between the two seats. “She’s fine.”
“Who is that guy?” she asked, then shook her head, her attention riveted on the weapon. “Forget that, who the hell are you?”
“Your bodyguard.”
Chapter 2
“My bodyguard?” she echoed, her voice squeaking. “A bodyguard? That’s ridiculous!”
Jack couldn’t have agreed more. The whole situation was deadly and getting worse by the second. Unless they got damn lucky damn fast, they were in big trouble.
Her eyes narrowed. “Why ever would I need a bodyguard?”
Jack looked behind them. The car wasn’t gaining, but they weren’t getting any farther away, either. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Later. Just step on it, will you?”
“Step on it,” she muttered. “Yes, sir.” She floored the accelerator. The van shot forward.
A stop sign marked an upcoming intersection. Dahlia must have had the same thought he did, because she showed no sign of stopping—and fortunately no other cars could be seen on the other roads. At the next crossroads, she braked to slow, ignored the stop sign and turned left onto a paved road. Tires squealed and the van swerved, but she managed to keep it on the road.
“Good girl,” Jack said.
“Up yours.”
She drove the way he would have, her handling of the van suggesting that she’d probably had training in evasive maneuvers and chase. He began to hope they’d get out of this in one piece. The car behind them didn’t make the turn as cleanly, and it fell a little farther behind.
He relaxed a little and looked over at the surprising Dahlia Jensen, Ph.D. Where he’d been expecting mousy, starched and boring, she was vibrant and alluring, despite her baggy clothes. She was clearly angry, pink suffusing the flawless skin of her cheeks. Her blond hair was caught in some kind of intricate loose braid that revealed the shell of her ear and the length of her neck and added to her femininity.
She pinned him with a glare from her dark eyes—brown, he realized, intrigued by the contrast to her fair skin and hair.
“Stop staring at me and keep an eye on that jerk behind us.”
“You’ve had high-speed training,” he said, ignoring her comment while keeping one eye on the car following them. “This is some souped-up van you’ve got.”
“I chase thunderstorms,” she said, looking at him from the corner of her eye. “You think I’d take off in a vehicle without any speed and without knowing what I’m doing?”
Jack glanced at the speedometer. Ninety miles per hour was a little faster than his preferred land speed, but he had to hand it to her. She knew how to handle the vehicle.
She didn’t show any sign of slowing even after they headed west and crossed back over I-25. Soon the traffic began to get heavier, and she reduced her speed. The car following them began to gain. It still looked more country than city when they passed the first of the signs that stated they were entering the city limits. Abruptly farms gave way to housing developments and office buildings.
Ahead a flashing light for a railroad crossing came on. The approaching train blared its whistle. Dahlia glanced briefly in the rearview mirror, and her mouth firmed into a straight line. The van gained speed.
Jack shuddered as he realized her intention. There wasn’t enough room to stop before the tracks. She was crazy. He glanced behind them. The car chasing them hadn’t given up, either.
The train was close. Too close.
The train whistled, long and loud and sounded to Jack like a death knell. What the hell had he gotten himself into?
“Come on, baby,” Dahlia muttered under her breath, leaning forward as if doing so would make the van go even faster.
The whistle blared again.
The van clattered across the tracks.
The train whizzed past, so close he could feel the compression of air between the train and the van.
“Thank God,” she whispered.
“You’re nuts! Nobody plays chicken with a train.”
She didn’t reply, which was just as well. If looks could kill, he was a goner.
Jack turned to look behind them. The car chasing them had come to a halt on the other side of the train. If luck was with them, the train would be a long one. A very long one.
It was. Each of the cars filled with coal. The train moved much slower than he had imagined.
He let out a sigh and glanced at Dahlia. He had never been with a more magnificent woman. Not just because she drew him physically but because of her courage and determination. Without exception the women he knew would have resorted to tears or hysteria by now. Thank God Dahlia wasn’t one of those.
When she flashed him another glance with her surprisingly dark eyes, he admitted to himself that he liked her even if she had scared a decade off his life. And liking her…that hadn’t been part of the deal.
Three blocks later Dahlia abruptly turned right, and a half block later brought the van to a skidding halt. “Out,” she commanded.
Jack stared numbly at her. “What?”
“You heard me. Out.”
“But, I’m—”
“I don’t want to hear any cockamamy story about bodyguards or anything else. For all I know that guy is after you. Not me. And one way to tell is get rid of you. Out.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly,” she said. “You’re a crazy person.”
“I’m crazy?” he shouted. “You’re certifiable. You could have gotten us killed.”
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