Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Lyra
I don’t wait for him to move.
He’s blocking the door like he owns the building, like his six-foot-something frame gets to decide who comes and goes. But this is my apartment. My threshold. My rules.
“Please stand aside.” Fighting my so-very-real attraction, I force my gaze away from his face. His mouth, his lips, are far too damn tempting. I’ve already succumbed to his masculine advances one. “Unless you want me to make a scene?”
He lifts his eyebrows slightly. “I doubt you’d like the kind of attention that brings.”
I flash him a dazzling smile. He’s absolutely right, and he knows it. But since he recognizes the danger around us, he’s no more excited to draw attention to our scene than I am. “Neither would you.”
He studies me, eyes unreadable. “Don’t count on it. At this point I’m ready to sling you over my shoulder and carry your ass to a safe house.”
My heart skips a beat.
I believe him.
Still, after a moment, he unfolds his arms. That’s the opening I was looking for.
I shoulder past him, slipping my key into the lock, and letting myself inside.
Focused, I dash to the bedroom and slam the door behind me before turning the lock with a decisive twist.
The action won’t keep him out.
But all I need is to buy myself a few, precious seconds.
I drop to my knees beside the baseboard.
Despite the fact I’m shaking, my fingers find the almost-invisible seam. Then I pop it loose. Behind it is the tiny safe, and I key in the code.
Click.
The lock disengages.
I fish out the fireproof box and flip it open. Inside is the ceramic fob my dad stashed in my bug-out bag.
The small disk goes in my duffel, shoved between layers of clothes and sealed with the zipper before the door rattles hard behind me.
“Allie.” Stryker’s voice is a low threat.
Satisfied that I’ve won, I straighten, duffel in hand.
The lock breaks with a snap of pressure. He forces the door open and stands in the threshold, legs spread wide.
There’s no expression of surprise on his face. “Did you get what you need?”
“None of your business.”
The words come out sharper than I mean them to, but I’m too keyed up to care.
He glances down at the bag in my hand, then up at my face. His gaze lingers. Not soft. Not cruel. Just unrelenting. “So where are you going now?”
I bring up my chin. “Again, none of your business.”
For a second, he studies me without responding. Then he quirks an eyebrow in a bossy, irritating manner. “You’re not going alone.”
The man is as annoying as fuck. “I didn’t ask for your help.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
That pulls me up short.
His tone is calm, but the edge is there, just beneath the surface. “I’m not negotiable, and you’ve given me the slip for the last time.”
That remains to be seen. I’ve spent my entire life evading cops, and he’s no better than they are.
“There’s no chance in hell I’m letting you go out there alone.”
My phone vibrates in my back pocket. Please, God, let that be my rideshare.
I nudge aside the blinds to glance out the window. There’s a tan-colored sedan in front of my building, and it has the name of the app on the window.
Yes.
Grateful that I can make my getaway, I brush past Stryker again, carefully avoiding his gaze.
As threatened, he immediately falls in step behind me.
Outside, the breeze is cold against my face. The afternoon light has done nothing to warm up the air.
I’m halfway to the rideshare when a flicker of motion catches my eye. A shadow moves in a neighboring window. A second later, there’s another shift—this one closer. A black blur reflected in a windshield across the street.
Then Stryker’s at my side, his fingers wrapping around my elbow in a grip I can’t shake.
“What a surprise. You’ve got company.”
A dark SUV rounds the corner—too slowly, too deliberately. It has tinted windows and no front license plate.
“Come on.” Stryker tugs me back toward the side lot.
“No. You can’t just—”
“I can.” His interruption is terse. “I will.”
We’re running before I can argue.
I trip over a rock, but he pivots to catch me.
Then I’m airborne.
“What the hell—?”
As if I weigh nothing, he makes good on his earlier threat by slinging me over his shoulder. My breath whooshes out in a frantic rush, and my duffel thumps against my back. “Let me go.”
Even though I kick furiously, his grip is like steel.
“I mean it!”
Without breaking stride, he smacks my ass.
Instantly I freeze. From shock, yes. But more from the sudden heat coiling through me. What the fuck? And why am I reacting in this way?
Then instinct takes over again, and I mewl my protests as I squirm. “Damn you, Stryker!”
But it’s as if I’ve said nothing at all.
Finally, while I’m still furiously wiggling, he reaches his vehicle and yanks open the passenger door. Half a second later, he unceremoniously dumps me into the seat.
Annoying, confounding, infuriating man. How dare he?
“Buckle up.”
Then he’s behind the wheel, slamming his door and throwing the vehicle into gear.
The tires screech as we rocket out of the alleyway.
The other SUV guns it behind us.
He spins the wheel hard, cutting through a back road. The engine roars, and every nerve ending in my body is on high alert.
I twist around in my seat, heart hammering. The other SUV barrels after us, its engine growling with menace.
But then—
Another vehicle appears.
It comes from the right, slipping into the lane like it belongs there. Midnight blue. Sleek. Nondescript. It cuts in front of the pursuing SUV with surgical precision, forcing it to brake hard.
Moments later, we’re free.
I glance at Stryker. He doesn’t seem in the least bit surprised.
Hawkeye to the rescue?
God help me. I’m getting in deeper by the minute.
I force back hysterical laughter. If they only had any idea that they’d just helped me to escape. Me. The person at the top of their most wanted list.
My life has become sheer madness.
As if by magic, the road opens ahead of us. Stryker shifts lanes and merges onto the ramp for I-70 without hesitation. The hum of the tires changes as we gain speed.
“Where are we going?”
“Got access to a cabin in the mountains.”
A cabin. In the mountains. The words land like weights in my gut. I wrap my arms more tightly around my duffel, fingers white-knuckled against the canvas.
“You’ll be safe there.” He slides me a sidelong glance. “Until we figure out what’s going on.”
We. Again.
Since I’d be wasting my breath, I don’t bother arguing.
And the truth is, with his resources, I may have the chance to form a realistic plan.
The question is, who will protect me from him?
Once more, I glance in the wing mirror. There’s another vehicle close but not too close. “With you?”
“Yeah.”
The confirmation I don’t want.
The scenery zips by as we catch a glimpse of the gorgeous view heading into the mountains.
Adrenaline still thunders in my bloodstream. I am wrung out and simultaneously wired, every instinct lit up.
My heart hasn’t slowed since he grabbed my elbow in my apartment parking lot.
Trying to calm my fight-or-flight reaction, I stare out the window.
Colorado stretches around us, raw and open. In the distance, there are hints of snow.
We don’t talk for a while. There’s too much to say, and nothing that would make a difference.
Eventually he turns off onto US-40, and we head into a small town. He continues to a grocery store. The car that was on our tail parks nearby.
“You have a baseball cap in your go bag?”
I turn toward him. “I’ll just stay in the vehicle.”
His lips compress. “No fucking chance.”
There are a million things I could fire back with. This isn’t his fight. I know how to take care of myself. But no matter what I say, he isn’t a man to be dissuaded.
“Baseball cap.”
With a sigh of temporary resignation, I grab it from my duffel and stuff my hair under it the best I can.
Stryker shuts off the engine and angles toward me. “Stay close.”
“Obviously.” I can’t keep the sarcasm from my tone.
Since I can’t take a chance on my bag being stolen, I grab it and wear it cross-body style.
Inside, the store smells like fresh-baked bread and the possibility of hope.
“It’s okay to relax.”
He grabs a cart and wheels it toward the bakery.
I’m sure we’re both remembering the order we had delivered this morning. Thankfully there’s a loaf that looks and smells every bit as wonderful as the one that’s still at his condo.
After we’ve added that to the basket, he glances over. “That stew you promised me…”
“I’ll still make it.”
“Seriously?”
The grin that crosses his face is sort of lopsided, taking years off his features. He’s transformed from a competent badass to something much, much more dangerous.
Suddenly I’m noticing the way his Henley fits him and the way his jeans hug his powerful legs.
Oh my God. What the hell is wrong with me?
The man’s my captor.
Determinedly I give myself a firm mental shake.
I have no business noticing that kind of thing about him. Or the way he smells—of damnation and temptation rolled into a sensual longing.
“Allie?”
I meet his eyes. He’s staring at me quizzically.
“Sorry. I…” Was caught in a stupid, impossible fantasy.
“Vegetables?”
How mundane. And yet necessary for our survival. I’ll need energy after I regroup and form a new plan.
Forcing myself to concentrate, I select potatoes, celery, carrots, onions, and garlic.
The act of selecting each item helps me regain my center.
In the next section, I grab a roast. Then I think about breakfast, other meals we’ll need, and caffeine. “How about paper products?”
“Fully stocked. And there are a bunch of provisions already there. Things you’d find in a typical pantry.”
Makes sense.
Fifteen minutes later, the basket is loaded down, and we head toward the front of the store.
Halfway down the aisle, he stops to toss box of brownie mix into the cart.
I narrow my eyes. “Really?”
“I saw you looking at the cakes in the baking aisle.”
The brand he selected is my favorite. Bastard. “That’s a dirty trick.”
He shrugs and grins. “I’m noticing every little thing about you, Allie.”
When we finally reach the checkout lanes, I grab a bar of milk chocolate and toss it in. Then another. Because honestly, I want to eat my bodyweight in it.
“Sure that’s enough?”
Suddenly it occurs to me that he is planning for us to be together for a while. That’s something I can’t afford.
Even though I offer to split the cost of the groceries, he won’t hear of it. “Stryker—”
“For once”—he shoots me a quelling glance that would terrify an ordinary human—“don’t fucking argue.”
Eyes wide, the cashier looks from him to me and back again.
“Fine.” As part of my strategy, I’ll let him win this skirmish. I gift him with my most dazzling smile, determined to be the model prisoner in an attempt to get him to let down his guard.
“That’s better.” He taps his credit card, and I can’t help but notice the tiny Hawkeye logo on it.
He’s using his company’s account?
Probably it has less chance of being hacked.
Outside, the sky has shifted into the first shades of dusk. The air smells like pine and a cold future.
He drives us out of the town, following winding roads that get narrower the farther we go. Eventually, he turns onto a dirt road flanked by tall trees, their branches like silent sentinels.
We pass through a series of gates that he enters codes for.
Stars emerge against an inky backdrop as the tires crunch over gravel and packed earth, jostling the vehicle with every dip and rise.
When we near the cabin, the area floods with light.
Smart. Not only is that safer, it also renders night-vision goggles useless.
He breaks to a stop, and I realize the place is much more than I expected.
There’s beautifully maintained wood siding and a pitched metal roof, no doubt for the snow load. A wide porch has numerous, sturdy chairs that can stand up to the harsh climate.
It’s secluded, the kind of place where no one will find us. “Hawkeye safe house?” I guess.
“You could call it that.” He cuts the engine and glances at me. “State of the art security. All linked to my phone and watch.”
A warning, I realize. There’s no escape.
I need to make sure he underestimates my determination.
Inside, the space is warm but sparse. A rug anchors the living room. A small table sits near the window. The kitchen is compact but well stocked. Cast iron pans hang from a rack above the stove.
It’s not luxury, but it’s not far from it.
And after today’s events, that feels like heaven.
We carry the grocery bags inside, and he immediately locks up. As we put things away, I glance down the hallway.
“Only one bedroom,” he asserts, despite the fact there are two closed doors.
My spine stiffens.
“And only one bed.”
Stunned, I look at him. He’s watching me, his expression unreadable.
My face heats. “No problem. I’ll can take the couch.”
He arches a brow. “You could.”
I turn away, pulse stuttering.
Then I feel him move behind me, and he clamps his hands on my shoulder and leans forward to speak into my ear. “But I’m not going to let you.”
A flash of awareness rockets through me, and I yank myself out of his grasp. Then I pivot and look up at him.
He sweeps his gaze over me, deliberate and slow.
“I don’t trust you not to try and escape. You’ll be sleeping with me, Allie. And you’ll consider yourself lucky if I don’t shackle you to my side.”