get on his way.
At Graham’s soft curse, she looked up from her ruffles. The entire front parking lot was flooded by police cars and motorcycles. Her poor truck was one of an entire row stuck behind a fleet of sheriffs’ vehicles. Graham stopped the SUV. She wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while.
She glanced at Graham. His eyes were closed. He rubbed his forehead with the fingers of one hand, disgust written all over his face.
Her heart had already been sinking. Now it hit bottom. The man did not want to be stuck with her all night long. It hurt, because she would have loved to spend more time with him.
Her pride rose to deal with the pain. He didn’t want to be stuck with her? Luckily for him, he wasn’t. She wasn’t helpless.
Say good-night, Jane.
“Well, thank you again for helping me get out of the bar. And for helping me get over the fence. Helping all of us get over the fence.” As long as she was relying on her own pride, she wanted to point out that the guys had needed boosts, too.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Really sorry. I wasn’t thinking—”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” she said, imitating his earlier words. She didn’t want to hear the man apologize for not wanting her company. She slipped her fingertips into the top of her left boot and under the edge of her calf-high sock, where she’d stashed the key to her truck. “You travel safely to wherever you’re going. I’m... I’m glad I got to meet you. Thanks again.” She opened the door.
“What are you doing?”
“Good night, Graham.”
“You can’t leave.”
As if she’d stay now, when he’d wanted nothing more than to put her in her truck so that he could get on to wherever he was going. She slipped off the high seat to land on the ground outside, nice and solid on her own two feet, her smile plastered in place as if her disappointment wasn’t choking her. As she closed her door, she caught a glimpse as Graham threw his gear shift into park and opened his door. He was fast; she’d taken only a step in the direction of her red truck before he rounded the hood of the SUV.
“Get back in the truck.”
She almost, almost obeyed that tone of voice, reaching for the door handle before she snatched her hand back. “Did you just give me an order?”
“You can’t stand out here.” He wasn’t looking at her, but over her, that sharp gaze on the police scene behind her.
“I’m not going to stand anywhere. I’ll sit in my truck until the police leave. My phone’s in there. My jacket’s in there. I won’t freeze.”
“It isn’t safe.”
“I’ll be just fine as can be. No one is going to bother me with this many cops around.”
He yanked the door open. “Your truck isn’t bulletproof. Let’s go.”
“Bulletproof?”
Wow, the poor man really was too much on alert—but then Emily heard the hoarse voice of a cop from behind her, sounding like something from a movie: “Let me see your hands!”
She whipped around to see cops running from the bar back to their cruisers, opening their doors and crouching behind them as they drew their guns.
“Put your gun on the ground!” ordered the hoarse cop, who was still standing, his weapon drawn and aimed at the front door of the bar.
Two hands on her waist yanked her back toward the SUV. Graham practically tossed her into the cab headfirst, then she felt his hand squarely on her rear end, shoving her farther into the cab. “Go. Get behind the wheel.”
She scrambled over the center console as Graham crowded her, climbing in behind her. She was still twisting around to get her butt in the seat when he slammed the gear shift down to the number one and pointed toward the field beyond the parking lot. “That way.”
The SUV started rolling forward in first gear. The driver’s seat was set for him, too far back for her to reach the pedals well, so she had to sit on the edge and hang on to the steering wheel to reach the brake. In the passenger seat, Graham ducked his chin to look into the side view mirror, then he turned around to look through the center seats and out the back window.
She’d just gotten her foot on the brake when she heard the unmistakable sound of a police megaphone. “Come out with your hands up.”
“Jeez,” she said, and switched to the gas pedal, steering with one hand as she used her other to feel around for the seat controls. The only way out of the parking lot, thanks to the patrol car barricade, was to drive cross-country through the scrub brush. “Your paint job is going to take a beating.”
“It’ll be just fine as can be.”
Wait—that was something she’d said. Was he being a smart aleck? She didn’t have time to decide; she was adjusting the driver’s seat with one hand as she steered toward the edge of the parking lot with the other, all while glancing from the view out the windshield down to the unusual drivetrain indicator. “How do you put it in four-wheel drive?”
“You don’t need to. It’ll adjust to the terrain.”
“Okay. Hang on.”
He braced one hand against the roof as they left the parking lot for the fields. They were bounced out of their seats a time or two, but she could feel the vehicle’s drivetrain adjusting, each wheel gripping individually when it got traction as she drove over hardened grooves in the earth, the muddy remains of a creek bed and the sandy soil beyond. She slowed once they’d gone the distance of a football field or so, but Graham gestured for her to keep moving while he kept watch out the back window.
“Take us all the way out to the highway.”
She hesitated.
“Bullets fly more than a hundred yards,” he said.
“If I remember rightly, we’re going toward a creek that probably isn’t dry.”
“It’ll wash the dirt off the paint job.”
Definitely a smart aleck.
“You might want to fasten your seat belt, then.” She let the SUV roll forward as she pulled her seat belt across her chest and buckled it. “You’re going to find out how good your suspension is the hard way.”
He looked at her instead of the parking lot scene for a moment, one of his infrequent smiles touching one corner of his mouth. “She’s more than a pretty paint job. She was built for this.”
“So I’ve heard.” The manufacturer was legendary for getting its start building safari vehicles. Emily put her boot on the gas again, pushing their speed a little more. “If I didn’t feel like I was running for my life, I’d be enjoying this.”
Graham turned around to face front and pulled his seat belt across his chest, too, as she drove on in silence. She couldn’t say he relaxed, but he wasn’t keeping a constant lookout behind them any longer. That had to be a good sign. Her knowledge of bullets was limited to her uncle’s rifles on the ranch. She didn’t know how far a police handgun could fire—and no one knew if the fighters in the club were armed, or with what. But if Graham was less concerned now, then so was she.
Foolish little Jane, putting all your trust in this man who just swooped in out of nowhere.
But gosh, he’d done just that. She was so very aware of him, of the size of him, the energy of his body in the close interior. Aware of the smell of his warm skin dominating the vehicle’s cool leather. Of the strength in his arm braced against the ceiling, the same arm he’d braced against the iron-edged bar to protect her when the only thing they’d known about each other had been their names.
She knew more about him now: how he reacted in an emergency, how he helped strangers without a second thought.