Holiday Heroes (Wingmen Warriors 13)

She welcomed the smile his question brought. “I was shooting targets in the woods with my daddy before I got my driver’s license.”

He winked and released the gun. The ominous black weapon rested in her lap now instead of her precious crèche, which lay within reach at her booted feet. She covered the gun with the red plaid blanket, then reached to secure her hood around her head while the wind combined with their brisk ride to try and tear off the cover.

Hank flipped up the collar of his coat to protect his ears—simple, but efficient, much like the no-frills man himself. “We don’t have much time left to talk, Ginger. Tell me more about the family crèche there. Is that something from your Dutch grandma’s side of the family?”

“No, actually, it’s a piece from Benjamin’s family.”

“Do you remember anything more?” He kept one gloved hand in his coat pocket—undoubtedly around his gun—while the other stayed around her.

“I seem to recall his father bought it for his mother for Christmas about fifty years ago.”

“Anything else?”

“What are you getting at?” She rubbed her hands together under the blanket, then placed them back on the weapon.

“Have you considered that someone may want the crèche instead of you? You said yourself it’s a priceless piece of art.”

“Oh, wow,” she stared at the velvet purse at her feet. “Wow. That makes an obvious kind of sense. Does it have any bearing on what we should do today?”

He brushed at a branch that came close to swatting their heads. Snow still showered down around them, drifts building in the sparsely populated outlying area of the village. “My gut’s telling me the safe house really is our best bet.”

“Okay.”

“That’s it? Okay? No questions about whether or not there are moles on the inside waiting there to shoot you since I’ve given you this gun?” He glanced down at the lump where the blanket covered the weapon.

“If your instincts tell you the odds are better for us to go in, then I trust you.”

“In my job.”

With those three words and their implication about other aspects, things heated up between them. She tried to think of how to answer him honestly. “You know I keep you with me because you’re the one person in my life I can totally trust. Too many times I’ve found out people only wanted me for access to the Landis fortune or a senatorial ear.”

“What if I let you down? I’m not a perfect man.”

“You’re mighty close.” So why couldn’t she bring herself to throw caution to the wind and fling her arms around him for another kiss?

Hank Renshaw was a lot of man to live up to. She’d loved and lost one of those larger-than-life men before and, lordy, they left a huge void behind them.

Her hands starting shaking at just the simple thought.

Simple? Not simple at all. Losing Benjamin had shaken her world to the foundation. Nothing, nothing had compared to the agony of that time. Only throwing herself into her job and being a mother had gotten her through.

Any dating she’d done had been totally superficial. She realized full well after that kiss with Hank—after knowing the man—things with him could never be uncomplicated. She stared at the winding street ahead, full of ice and heaven only knew what other roadblocks or hazards.

She wasn’t one to take the easy route. A person only had to look at her life to see that.

Hands still trembling inside her leather gloves, she leaned closer to absorb more of his body heat. Sure enough, a jolt of awareness shimmered up her arm, an echo of what she’d felt when they’d kissed.

When his gaze had locked with hers back at the airport lounge.

Things were definitely different. They couldn’t resume their old ways. She was scared to her cold toes. She just hoped she could continue to muster the resolve she’d used in countless international negotiations to carry her through figuring out where this attraction would lead them.

Hank slid his arms from around her and reached under the blanket to take one of her hands in his, holding tight. “Do you need another blanket? You’re shaking pretty hard.”

Touching him, she could swear he’d already piled on a stack of blankets, the comfort of him steaming through her. “I just want us both to get to that safe house in one piece.”

She squinted to peer through the blur of trees as best she could, and the roadway behind the traffic seemed sparse but steady. No suspicious vehicles slowing to watch them. “Do you think they were on the lookout back there since we were close to the safe house? Maybe they were just curious about the car because of the damage.”

“Anything’s possible right now.” He tapped the driver on the shoulder. The college-aged student peeled aside his hat and pulled out one of the earpieces while Hank called out some final directions. Hank eased back in his seat.