“Do you have a phone? I can call David and—”
“Tell him where to find you? He knew where to find you thirty minutes ago. How did that work out?”
“That’s not fair. He couldn’t possibly have known some crackpot would shoot at me.”
“Are you willing to risk your life on that?”
She opens her mouth to argue, then pauses. “Why should I trust you over him? We just met.”
It’s entirely possible Sophie will slap me for what I’m about to do, but if it makes my point, I don’t care.
I wrap my fingers around her nape and pull her face inches from mine. I have to fight not to kiss her again. “Honey, if I wanted you dead, you’d already be dead. And I sure as fuck wouldn’t have wasted my time and risked my skin to get you away from that parade safely.”
She blinks at me, and it’s difficult as fuck not to be hypnotized by those eyes that celebrity gossip rags have gushed about since she first hit the scene. I didn’t see what the big deal was—until now. Pictures do not do Sophie justice.
“I see your point,” she says finally.
Reluctantly, I release her and ease away—before I do something stupid like slide her under me and seize her lips again. “Good. The way I look at it, someone who knew when and where you’d be took shots at you.”
“But I doubt David wants to hurt me. He hired you.”
“Not exactly. When Rob got sick, he called me and asked me to step in. He didn’t like this whole parade setup. He told David that. Your agent said he was overreacting. Clearly not.”
“Still, that doesn’t mean…” She sighs. “But I get what you’re saying. As long as no one knows where to find me, it buys me time to figure out what’s going on.”
“Yeah.”
“So we need to figure that out.”
I nod. “I have an idea where we can lie low. Sit back. We’ll be in the car for a while.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Yeah. Think hard and honestly about who might want you dead.”
Sophie
I’m trying to keep myself together as we speed west on I-20, past the south side of Ft. Worth, then connect with Highway 377. We pass a lake and seem to disappear into the country.
“Where are we going?” I ask finally.
“Someplace safe. Think of anyone who might want you dead?”
I’ve been pondering that while Rand drives, fast and steady, down the road. But between the trauma of being shot at and our narrow escape, the uncertainty ahead, the hyperawareness of being basically naked under his shirt, and the unshakable memory of his passionate kiss, my brain is mush.
“Nothing yet,” I murmur.
“It’ll come. It’s barely noon and it’s been a terrible day. You hungry?” he asks as the freeway turns into a two-lane road while we enter a little town that’s probably a speck on a map.
It’s crazy to me this place is less than an hour from the city where I grew up, and yet this is nothing like my former neighborhood. It’s a hodgepodge of mom-and-pop businesses with a regional grocery store and a few fast-food restaurants. That’s it. But people live their entire lives in close-knit towns like this. They’re born here. They work and live and fall in love and have children before they die here. I’ve had such an urban, nomadic life for the past dozen years. It seems so crazy to me—in a good way—to spend your life in one place. I’m almost jealous of people who have a sense of permanence and belonging.
“Not really.”
He nods. “Let me know.”
“You from around here?”
“No, just been here a few times.”
End of conversation. He’s really not a talker.
But he’s an amazing kisser. I bet he’d be fantastic at plenty of other things, too.
I stare out the window at the last of the little town sliding by. If I don’t, I’ll just stare at him and silently wish he would touch me.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Fine.”
“I’ve got to make a phone call.” He slides the device from his pocket and scrolls through his contacts while there are no other cars in sight. The person on the other end of the connection answers quickly. “Hey, Joe. I’ve got a favor to ask.”
The reply is short and muffled. I hear nothing but a deep voice.
“That little place you had by the lake available for a few days?”
This time a longer, more animated reply.
“Perfect. Key still in the same spot?”
Another answer, even shorter, followed by a laugh.
“You’re a lifesaver, man. I’ll explain when I can. Just don’t tell anyone you’ve heard from me. I’ll call my brothers so they don’t freak and you won’t have to deal.”
The voice on the other end replies once more, this time sounding final.
“Thanks. Hey, I owe you a beer next time I see you,” he says just before he ends the call.