Damn.
Ginger clutched Hank’s tense-as-steel arm and stared at the strange man kneeling beside their car inside the repair shop. His finger probed one of the bullet holes.
That by itself wouldn’t have been too much cause for concern. Except the towering man standing beside him peering into the crowds with narrowly slitted eyes sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the brisk breeze winding a corkscrew path around the shoppers.
Here she’d been worried about something else being wrong with the vehicle. It had held out far past her expectations, surviving a shoot-out, a mad chase and record-breaking storm conditions with only a simple flat tire. Only to be finally detected by…who?
Friends or enemies? “Hank?”
She tugged on his sleeve only to find him already evaluating the situation with keen eyes. “Keep close. Be ready to make fast tracks back into the crowd.”
The tall man staring into the shopping masses brushed gazes with her, looking past. Then back.
Holding.
His hand slid inside his long duster, a hint of lethal black gun showing.
Ginger curled her toes in her shoes. “Bolt?”
“Yeah.” Hank slid his arm around her waist and tugged her into the anonymous press of merry humanity.
Her heart pounded in sync with their feet, in time with the packages slamming against her legs. “What are we going to do? You said the car-rental place was sold out for the holidays. And you didn’t want to draw attention by stealing a car. You said we’re close. Are we near enough to walk?”
“No.” He kept his arm hooked around her, guiding her through the milling shoppers while making sure they stayed side by side.
“Then what are you doing?”
“Thinking. Hoping.”
He hauled her into the anonymity of a cluster of people listening to a quartet of carolers. She wanted to ask more about his “hopeful” plan. Hank always had contingencies lined up for emergencies and this most definitely qualified. She chewed her lip and waited while he stared with searching eyes along the street vendors and stalls to where their pursuer stood by a living crèche, no longer chasing them for the moment, thank heavens.
Hank dipped his face to her ear, his smile brushing her cheek. “Forget worrying about getting caught stealing a car or walking. I’ve just found our ride.”
“You have?” Of course he had. When had Hank ever faltered? Apparently she was the only one who had fears and doubts. “I wouldn’t have thought a village this small would have two car-rental places.”
“Oh, it doesn’t have another car-rental place.” His smile caressed her cheek, swirling away some doubts but stirring up a lot more questions.
He pointed toward a line of decked-out sleighs.
Ginger tugged the sleigh blanket over her legs to ward off the chill, bells jingling with each step of the two horses’ feet through the snowy landscape. Hank had estimated an hour from the village to the safe house by this mode of transportation, which meant they should be arriving in no more than fifteen minutes since he’d paid the driver extra to haul butt.
So far, so good. No sign of their lurking bad guy buddy from the village, and the sleigh ride actually provided a bit of anonymity from the main thoroughfare.
Hank’s warm frame radiated heat beside her, close, so close, at times she thought he might even kiss her again. Her heart kicked up pace faster than the cars swishing past on the country road beyond the mask of pine trees.
Their driver seemed to be making good time, happily humming along atonally to whatever he was listening to on the headphones peeking from under his cap.
The snow-laden trees passed in a blur, ancient cottages tucked in the woods at unexpected places, their chimneys puffing smoke into the evening air.
“Here,” Hank growled low, pressing something solid into her hand. “You may need this.”
She looked down to find a revolver in her hand. “What do you mean? The e-mail said all clear at the safe house. I can understand why you didn’t want to risk any stranger coming to pick us up. But what’s wrong with us going to a known entity?”
“Contingency plan.” He kept his voice low, soft enough not to be overheard by the iPod-addicted driver in the seat in front of them. “If something happens to me.”
She swayed, the thought, well, unthinkable. Her fingers closed around the weapon, which also happened to cause them to clench around his hand. “All right.”
“Do you know how to use it?”