Lara’s voice sounded uncharacteristically weak.
She was pressed into the seat as far as she could be from him, looking like she was seeing a ghost. Which she was, in a way. As far as she knew, he’d died a little over two years ago, the night he’d lost all control with her at the bakery.
“I don’t understand—”
“Hang on.”
He couldn’t afford to be distracted now. He scanned the rearview mirror and swore under his breath.
He should have shot back at the bastards. If he’d got them, Jen would still be alive, his narrow doorway to the cell still open. If he’d injured them, the FBI could have interrogated them. If he’d shot them dead, fingerprints could have still been collected. Clues. Links to something.
Instead, he’d lost Jen and gained absolutely nothing.
Gained Lara’s life, a small voice said inside. And he found that as badly as he’d messed up tonight’s operation, he couldn’t work up any serious rage. Which didn’t mean that plenty of anger didn’t simmer below the surface.
Still dazed, Lara was straightening in her seat, gathering herself. “But you died in the fire.”
He turned down the next street, took another turn, then another, going in the opposite direction he had been before. He watched his rearview mirror for the dark SUV, but couldn’t see it. “I don’t have time to explain.”
Why in hell did she have to show up in his life now? Why did she have to show up at all? Ever.
She put her seat belt on with hands that were unsteady but not shaky. She had good hands. Working hands. Strong. She was no shrinking violet. Even now, minutes after escaping mortal danger, she was pulling herself together. Lara Jordan was one tough chick. He’d always liked that about her. As much as he ever let himself truly like anything about anyone.
For the most part, he was big on keeping his distance.
Of course, there’d been a time or two when he’d slipped. Like their one night together. He hadn’t made that mistake since. If sex was offered and the time was right, he took it. But he was always up front about what he was and wasn’t willing to give. There was no loss of control, no passionate coming together against all reason with…with a virgin who had stars in her eyes, for heaven’s sake!
His teeth ground together. Between the shoot-out he was leaving behind and the memories that were quickly surfacing, sending heat straight to his groin, he was getting more morose by the minute.
“Where are we going?” Her voice was nearly back to normal.
“Someplace safe,” he bit out, even as his mind worked a mile a minute trying to think of such a place. He could only come up with one. Oh, hell.
“Who were those people?”
He turned left at the next light. “Not now.” They’d finally made it to Brooklyn. He pulled up a familiar street, slowed in front of an unassuming row house, hit the garage opener, pulled in, closed the door behind them immediately.
She peered through the darkness. “Is this where you live?”
“Mostly.” And he’d never, ever brought anyone here before, friend or foe. He would have to move now. Dammit.
He grabbed her hand and dragged her across the seat, out on his side as he left the car. He froze in place for a second when she stumbled against him. “I’m not going to turn on any lights. Just follow me.” Stepping away from her, he punched in the security code then opened the door that led inside.
She tripped a couple of times, not knowing the terrain, but he couldn’t slow for her. He wanted them in the den with its reinforced walls and his arsenal of weapons close by.
“Here.” He stopped by the hall closet and handed her his Kevlar vest. “Put this on.”
She obeyed without a word.
Then they were all the way in. He pushed her down onto the couch and went to stand by the window. The street was quiet. Not that he allowed himself to relax. He’d been in the game far too long to make that mistake.
“What happened back at the restaurant?” she asked.
And he closed his eyes for a second against the voice he hadn’t forgotten in the past two years, the voice that had said, “Yes, oh yes, Reid, please,” as she’d come apart in his arms on the bread table in his bakery, another undercover job that had turned into a disaster.
The muscles clenched low in his belly.
“What are you involved in?” She folded her arms in front of her awkwardly, the vest, a little big on her, limiting range of movement. Moonlight glinted off her full lips, off the dimple in her right cheek.
He turned fully toward the window, getting her out of his peripheral vision. She was nothing to him. A hot memory from his past. There was no reason why the sight of her on his couch, in his house, should bother him at all. She had no power over him.
She could have had. He’d realized that early on. Which was why he’d made the decision to never go back. He took her power away by reducing her to a memory, a sexual fantasy. He could take her out when he wanted to, and he could put her away.
“Are you involved in something bad?” Her voice held a new twinge of nerves.
He gave a short bark of a laugh. “What do you think?”
Silence stretched between them.
“I’d like to go.” Her dress rustled as she stood.
He turned back to her, which was a mistake. The black silk clinging to her thighs did nothing for his focus. He fought the impulse that was pushing him closer to her. “You can’t.”
“Reid—”
“They saw me leave with you. It won’t take long for them to ask a waiter who you were with in the restaurant. Then they’ll go and ask your boyfriend about you.”
He swore under his breath. Somehow, his cover had been blown. The shooters would connect Lara to him. Her boyfriend was probably being worked over right now. Chances were good the poor bastard wouldn’t live to see the morning.
“I need to go home.”
“By now they know where you live. It’s not safe.” He gentled his voice with effort. “You can stay with me.” Until he could get the authorities to take custody of her and figure out long-term protection. Which, he hoped, could be arranged in the next couple of hours. He had to get back out there and find Jen’s CD before anyone else did.
That CD was his holy grail. The cell’s leader had trusted Kenny with its safekeeping. There had to be something on the damned CD that would provide a clue on the planned attack.
“It’s all over now,” he told Lara. For her anyway. For him, there was still a long way to go. “I’ll make sure you’re protected.”
Instead of thanking him for the offered protection, all hell broke loose as she flew at him.
“Why isn’t it safe to go home?” She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, looking ready to tackle him if necessary.
She’d always been a strong woman—had gone to school on a sports scholarship, been sidelined by a knee injury, had taken over her uncle’s butcher shop when the guy had retired.
He captured her wrists, tried to pull her against him to subdue her. Easier said than done. She was almost six feet of wriggling fury.
“They’ll go to your house,” he tried to talk sense into her.
And then she started fighting in earnest, this time to get away from him, her eyes on the door. “Let me go.” Her arms were wheeling like windmill paddles.
“Lara?” He caught an elbow in the chin, and swore under his breath. All he needed was to get his arms