that it mattered. She hated him enough already. Except…that little flare in her eyes and the way her tongue now flicked across her lips to moisten them said her hatred hadn’t stopped the other feeling she’d had for him.
Desire.
“I can’t go stay in some hotel with you. I don’t have so much as a toothbrush with me, much less any…” Her words trailed off, her eyes dropping, no longer meeting his in the mirror. And he knew her mind had instantly gone to other, more personal items she might be missing.
Like spare panties.
His teeth almost breaking as he clenched them together, Dean cleared his throat. “We’ll make do.”
“I am not going to wear this bridesmaid dress until I testify Monday.”
She had a point.
Apparently getting over her embarrassment, she tossed her head back in visual challenge, she added, “And you can absolutely forget about me wearing nothing but what’s under this bridesmaid dress until then, either.”
Damn, there she went reminding him of the panties. And not only that, her words had sounded almost like a challenge. The thought of accepting it—of seeing how long he could hold out if he saw her wearing nothing but silk and lace, maybe in the same sexy shade of red as her dress—made Dean shift in the driver’s seat. A litany of images flashed in his brain as he pictured her in her strappy high heels…with nothing else on her but him.
“Stop somewhere so I can get some clothes.”
“It’s ten o’clock on a Saturday night after a blizzard.” His voice sounded gruff, even to his own ears. The tone was caused not by irritation with her for the demands, but rather at himself…for being unprofessional enough to get a hard-on for a woman he was supposed to be protecting.
“Then take me back to my hotel so I can grab my suitcase.”
“Your hotel room was compromised.”
Bridget’s mouth fell open and she sagged back into her seat. “What?”
He began to explain, assuming she’d have questions. But when he caught sight of her reflection, the words disappeared. Bridget’s eyes were closed, her lips sucked into her mouth. She was shaking her head back and forth in silent denial. And she was trembling, long shudders racking her body.
But not, he suspected, from the cold.
She’d been strong, holding it together, not asking too many unnecessary questions and trusting him enough to come with him. Now everything was obviously sinking in. Reality was washing over her, cold and unrelenting. And terrifying.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he whispered harshly, talking as much to himself as to her.
She opened her eyes and met his stare for a long, pregnant moment. Then, finally, she nodded once. The shudders finally ceased and she drew in a few deep breaths. “I’m sorry. That just hit me hard. Made it all real, you know?”
He knew.
“I’m okay now.” Pure strength…she was the picture of it.
Dean wanted to pull over, tug her out of the backseat and into his arms to offer comfort. Just that. To let her know she didn’t have to be strong alone.
But they needed to push on to make sure nobody could locate them—not the man following her. Not even his own coworkers. Then, when he knew they wouldn’t be found, he’d get her out of the car and keep her secure. Warm. Safe.
Or die trying.
3
THOUGH SHE BADGERED HIM, it was another hour before Bridget could get Dean to even consider stopping for supplies. God, how she wanted a toothbrush, at least. But he refused, saying he wouldn’t risk it until they were clear of the city.
Clear of the city…as in, he was removing her from Chicago, far from her home and her family and her friends. She had not a stitch of extra clothes, no one knew where she was and he’d essentially kidnapped her.
Why am I not terrified?
Maybe it was because of the calmness of his tone, his certainty that she would be fine. Or the way he’d said those seven words: I won’t let anything happen to you.
He’d meant it… It had been more than a promise, it had been a vow. Physically, he would not let her be harmed.
Emotionally, however, was another story. It had taken months for her to get over what he’d done to her…and if she were to be truly honest, she still wasn’t over it. So she had to get away from him. As soon as possible.
In the meantime, though, she figured she ought to find out what she could. She listened in silence as Dean told her what he knew, then finally said, “So if Marty hadn’t come forward with the information, I could have walked into my hotel room tonight or my apartment tomorrow and found a gun pointed at me.”
“It won’t happen, Bridge.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because you won’t be there,” he replied, his tone even and unhesitating. “And after you testify, it all becomes moot. There’s no gain in removing you from the equation.”
“So whoever’s been following me just gets away with it because he doesn’t have to kill me anymore?” she asked, her anger rising. It had been growing with every word Dean had said. Especially when those words included contract killer and gunning you down.
“He won’t get away with it.” Dean didn’t so much speak the words as growl them. She instinctively knew he meant it—whatever he felt about her personally, Dean had sounded almost vengeful.
“So if you don’t know who is after me, how did you know he’d followed me to the club?”
Dean glanced at her in the near darkness of the car. From the glow of the dashboard, she could see the way his brow was furrowed into a deep frown. “We’ve been running plates on cars that have been near your home and office in the past forty-eight hours. One turned up at your hotel—right before a guest reported a man acting suspiciously outside your door.”
Her stomach rolled. “He broke into my room?”
Dean nodded once.
“My cousins…”
“They’re no threat and wouldn’t be on this guy’s radar.” Dean’s voice grew deeper—slow and tense. “He’s only after you.”
Great.
“I got the call about your room just as I saw you heading for the exit. The surveillance team had lost the car. Then the local PD called in a sighting of it…in the area of the club.”
“Oh, my God,” she whispered.
“I followed you outside, but stayed out of sight when you came back in. Not knowing for sure who was after you, I couldn’t just let you stay there—or go back to the hotel—when you had no idea what was going on.”
Still trying to find a way to comprehend it all, she whispered, “So you grabbed me.”
“I grabbed you.”
Before she could continue, he surprised her by flipping on his turn signal and heading for an exit. Fortunately, the plows had done a good job of clearing the main roads and exits…but the side one they ended up on was still dusted with white.
“We’ll be okay, it’s a four-wheel drive.”
It was as if he’d read her mind.
“Are we going to stop now?”
“Yes. We’ll need some food. We’re going to be roughing it.”
Roughing it. In a velvet bridesmaid gown and skimpy lingerie. Wonderful.