Texas Hero. Merline Lovelace

I’m panning back… There he is. Black Expedition. Now I just have to sharpen the image a little…” A moment later, she gave a hum of satisfaction. “He’s tagged. I’m feeding the license plate number into the computer as we speak. How long do you want me to maintain the satellite lock?”

      “Follow him all the way home. And let me know as soon as you get an ID.”

      “Will do.”

      “Thanks, Mac.”

      “Anytime,” OMEGA’s communications chief answered breezily.

      Jack snapped the transceiver shut and slipped it into his shirt pocket. A quick glance at Ellie showed her staring at him in astonishment.

      “Your company has a satellite at their disposal?”

      “Several. Hang tight, I’m going to lose this joker.”

      Jack could see the questions in her eyes but didn’t have time for answers right now. The first rule in personal protective services was to remove the pro-tectee from any potentially dangerous situation. He didn’t know who was behind the wheel of the SUV or what his intentions were. He sure as hell wasn’t about to find out with Ellie in the car.

      Stomping down on the accelerator, he took the next intersection on two wheels. Ellie gulped and scrunched down in her seat. Jack shot a look in the rearview mirror and watched the larger, heavier Expedition lurch around the corner.

      Two turns later, they’d left the main downtown area and had entered an industrial area crisscrossed by railroad tracks. Brick warehouses crowded either side of the street, their windows staring down like unseeing eyes. Once again, Jack put his boot to the floor. The Cherokee rocketed forward, flew over a set of tracks and sailed into an intersection just as a semi bearing the logo of Alamo City Fruits and Vegetables swung wide across the same crossing.

      “Look out!”

      Shrieking, Ellie braced both hands on the dash. Her boots slammed against the floorboards.

      Jack spun the wheel right, then left and finessed the Cherokee past the truck with less than an inch or two to spare. Smiling in grim satisfaction, he hit the accelerator again.

      The bulkier Expedition couldn’t squeeze through. Behind him, they heard the squeal of brakes followed by the screech of metal scraping metal. Still smiling grimly, Jack made another turn. A few minutes later, he picked up Mission Trail again, but this time he headed into the city instead of out.

      “We’d better put off our visit to the site until tomorrow,” he told Ellie. “By then I should have a better idea of who or what we’re dealing with.”

      “Fine by me,” she replied, wiggling upright in her seat.

      Actually, it was more than fine. After that wild ride, her nerves jumped like grasshoppers on hot asphalt, and her kidneys were signaling a pressing need to find the closest bathroom.

      Jack, on the other hand, didn’t look the least flustered. He gripped the steering wheel loosely, resting one arm on the console between the bucket seats, and divided his attention between the road ahead and the traffic behind. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the mirrored sunglasses, but not so much as a bead of nervous sweat had popped out on his forehead.

      “Do you do these kinds of high-speed races often in your line of work?” she asked.

      “Often enough.”

      “And you’ve been in the same business since you left the Corps?”

      “More or less.”

      “How do you handle the stress?”

      He flashed her a grin that reminded her so much of the man she’d once known that Ellie gulped.

      “I’ll show you when we get back to the hotel.”