threat. He stepped in front of her as though he intended to protect her from harm. But he wasn’t a protector. No matter how many times he claimed he’d come back to keep her safe.
Thrusting her knee into the back of his, Elizabeth pushed him forward. The gun dropped to the pavement, metal on asphalt loud in her ears as he fought to balance. Lunging for it, she barely wrapped her fingers around the grip before he pulled her upright, his grip on her wrist cutting off circulation. Damn, he moved fast.
His breath fanned across the sensitive skin along her collarbones. Warmth spread from her neck up into her cheeks as he held her close, his mouth mere centimeters from hers. A mouth meant for spilling lies. “I’m not here to hurt you, Liz. I would never hurt you.”
Did she really have to remind him there were more ways to hurt her than the physical? He’d destroyed her career, gotten her pregnant and disappeared. It wasn’t until Sullivan Bishop and the Blackhawk Security team had offered her a place as their network security analyst three months ago that she’d started pulling the shattered pieces of her life back together. Without them, who knew where she would be right now.
“Let me go.” She fought to free herself, but Braxton only held her tighter. Once upon a time, she would’ve enjoyed that strong grip around her. Her insides instantly clenched. Now, the only thought running through her head centered on getting as far from him as possible. “What do you want from me?”
Her hand shook around the warm steel of the gun. She couldn’t let him get inside her head.
“I want you alive, for starters.” He pressed her against him, his fingertips leaving impressions in the small of her back. He studied her from forehead to chin. “If that means I have to knock you unconscious and throw you over my shoulder, I will.”
Air rushed from her lungs. The sincerity in his gaze, in his voice… He meant it. A short burst from one of the police sirens tensed the muscles down her spine but brought her back into the moment. “You actually believe someone is trying to kill me?”
“I have the proof.” Braxton released his hold on her wrist but let her keep the gun. Offering her a hand, he gave her the space to make the choice for herself. “All you have to do is trust me.”
“You make it sound so easy.” Every cell in her body urged her to take his hand. The sharp angles to his jaw, the heavy five o’clock shadow, the slight bend in his nose where he’d broken it playing football one summer, even the thin slice of scar across his palm where he’d slipped on ice in elementary school… It was all so familiar. Comforting. But she didn’t know this man. The Braxton she’d known never would’ve deserted her in the first place. She forced her attention to his eyes. “If I agree to go with you, you will answer every question I have.”
“I give you my word.” His voice dropped an octave. Sensual, compelling.
Her chest tightened on a deep inhale. She loosened her grip around the gun, the tingling sensation in her fingers subsiding as she leveled her chin with the asphalt. Handing over Vincent’s stolen Sig Sauer, Elizabeth drew back when his fingers closed on top of hers. In an almost militaristic manner, he cleared the loaded round, dropped the magazine, slammed it back into place and chambered another. No. Whoever stood in front of her wasn’t her Braxton. This man was hardened, muscled. Dangerous. She exhaled against the nausea churning inside. “And when this is over, you’ll crawl back to the rock you’ve been hiding under for the last four months. Are we clear?”
The lines etched between his dark eyebrows deepened. He dropped the gun to his side, so casual she’d believe he’d handled a firearm all his life. Which wasn’t the case. “Do you remember what I said to you that first day we met?”
The words forced their way forward from the back of her mind. Her throat tightened around the memory of her first day of working for the NSA, the day she’d met him. She swiped her tongue across her dry lips. “I sat down at the desk next to yours with my ice cream from the cafeteria, and you made fun of my choice of topping.” Rainbow-colored sprinkles. The nickname he’d called her ever since. A smile pulled at one edge of her mouth. “Then you said, ‘One thing you need to understand here, Sprinkles. This place will eat you alive. Stick with me, and no matter what happens, you can count on me to get you out of it.’” A hint of smoke coming off his clothing singed deep into her lungs as she focused on him. “And I believed you.”
“Do you still believe me?” he asked.
Yes. No. Her stomach flipped. If someone was trying to kill her, she wouldn’t stand around here all day waiting for it to happen. “I don’t know what to believe.”
Movement registered in her peripheral vision at the automatic gate. A firefighter. He’d presumably been assigned to check the rest of the building for signs of structural damage and flames. Dressed in full protective equipment, including face shield, he stopped just outside the gate and tried to pull it up manually. Wouldn’t work. That gate didn’t open for anybody unless they worked in the building. He’d have to get the fire code from her boss, Sullivan Bishop. Stiffness drained from the muscles around her spine a split second before the gate lifted on its own. “Everything okay down here?”
Braxton turned, maneuvering the gun behind his back. Out of sight.
“We’re fine. How’d you get in? That gate is supposed to be sealed.” Warning bells rang loud in her head. That wasn’t right. Nobody could access that gate—not even emergency personnel—without a Blackhawk Security operative key card or individualized code. She dropped her voice as the firefighter advanced. Too fast. Alone. “Braxton…”
The firefighter lifted a handgun and took aim. At her.
A strong hand pushed her to the ground as a bullet ripped past her ear. The garage turned on its axis. Braxton took position in front of her as he returned fire. Pain shot up through her knees, loose asphalt ripping holes in her leggings, but Elizabeth didn’t hesitate. Digging in her jacket pocket, she wrapped her hand around the keys to her company SUV near the shooter and hit the panic button.
Headlights flashed; the alarm blared. It’d only distract the shooter for a few seconds, but that was all she needed. The gunfire died. She shoved to her feet and sprinted for Elliot Dunham’s SUV. Blackhawk Security’s private investigator usually left his keys in the front seat, and she silently prayed he hadn’t changed up his routine. “Come on!”
Footsteps echoed close behind her as bullets two and three barely missed their mark. Chunks of cement nicked at her exposed skin, and she raised her arms to protect her face. Wouldn’t do a damn bit of good against a bullet, but instinct and adrenaline drove her now. She rounded the tail end of Elliot’s SUV and wrenched the door open. No keys. She dived inside, ripping the visor down. The keys dropped into her lap.
Braxton took cover behind the hood, squeezing off another shot. Then a third.
“Get in!” Elizabeth pulled the driver’s side door closed and started the engine. Shoving the SUV into Drive, she paused as the shooter positioned himself directly in front of them.
Hiking himself into the back seat, Braxton tapped on her shoulder. “Liz, go!”
The firefighter raised his gun, taking aim. One second. Two. And fired.
She froze as the bulletproof glass held against the shot. Then unfroze as rage coursed through her. The shooter had come for her, targeted her. Lifting her foot from the brake, she slammed on the accelerator and steered directly into the shooter. The growl of the engine drowned the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. Pressure built in her lungs. “Hang on back there.”
Her leather seat protested against his grip on the headrest. “Liz…”
The shooter pulled the trigger two more times, each bullet caught in the windshield, a split second before he launched himself out of the way of the vehicle.
Elizabeth spun the steering wheel toward the still-open security gate. Bouncing in her seat as they catapulted over the gate’s tracks, she fishtailed out of the garage. Blackhawk Security grew distant in the