“She’ll be a tasty treat to the rest of us when we give that little girl to the boss,” he sneered. “You like her too, big boy? Too bad. You’re dead.”
The other man thought he was close enough. His finger was tightening on the trigger. The knife slid from the leather sheath with a whisper as Dash swung his arm, wrist twisting at the last second, dragging the blade across the tender flesh of the enemy’s neck. The other man’s eyes widened in surprise even as his jugular split beneath the blade.
“No, dude. You’re dead.” He allowed the animalistic rumble free, glorying in the smell of blood, the bite of triumph.
Dash slid to the side as the reflexive clench of muscle tightened the man’s fingers on the trigger, sending a bullet whizzing harmlessly past him as blood pumped in a wide, vivid arc, splattering across the sleeve of Dash’s custom-made leather jacket.
The body fell heavily, sightless eyes staring back in macabre astonishment as the crimson wash of blood spilling over the cement floor widened beneath his head.
There was no remorse in Dash’s heart for the death. Some animals were just plain rabid in the soul, and this one was one of them. There could be no regret for putting the world out of the misery they brought. Casually, he dragged the blade of the knife over the dead man’s shoulder, cleaning it quickly before checking the body for any information he could use. There was a phone number on the back of a wrinkled blank business card. No name. Dash tucked the card into his inner jacket pocket. Money. He tossed it by the body. A message to his boss, keys, a picture of the little girl and her mother. This, Dash tucked away as well.
Seconds later, confident that the man carried nothing that could be traced back toElizabeth , Dash rose to his feet, replaced the knife and used a discarded towel on one of the machines to clean the sleeve of his jacket. He threw it over the face of the dead man before striding to the door. He jimmied the lock before closing it behind him, making certain it couldn’t be opened easily. The apartment building echoed with the laughter of families, of children. He didn’t want to chance a child walking in on the bloody scene, or an innocent bystander taking the blame for the death. Not that he thought there would be many who would feel the loss of the man he had killed. Dash stalked back to the front entryway into the frigidly cold December evening. As though he had nothing better to do he ambled around the building, heading for the alley in the back, hoping to pick up more information there. Elizabeth and Cassie had gone out the window that led into this alley. He doubted he would find much, but he had to check to be certain. Being cautious had gotten him this far; he wasn’t going to slacken now.
He didn’t see the navy blue sedan she was driving, thankfully. At least they were in the warmth in the vehicle rather than the biting cold of the frigid winter air. He knelt in front of the open window of the basement, surveying the displaced snow beneath it. The footsteps were barely visible now as they led to a set of tire tracks a few feet over. No, they weren’t too far ahead of him if the tracks in the snow were any indication. And if he wasn’t mistaken the bastards chasing them, minus the one he had just killed, were still watching the building. His hackles had risen the moment he stepped from the front door. Dash looked around carefully as he rose to his full height and began checking out the tire marks along the wide alley. From the looks of it they had left in a hurry. Checking the prints he was fairly certain it matched the sedan and it headed into the heart of town. He sighed deeply as he stared into the twilight sky. Snow peppered his cheeks and forehead, and the smell of the air indicated a blizzard was well on its way.
They wouldn’t be able to run for much longer tonight. He should find them soon. Keeping his steps casual he moved back to the front of the building and his own vehicle. The four-by-four SUV would be traded in farther down the road for the military Hummer he had acquired at a local reserve depot. It would make short work of the lousy road conditions and keep him moving when no other vehicle would dare try. To catch the woman he had claimed before he ever saw her face, Dash knew he would need that advantage. It was also a vehicle the enemy was unfamiliar with. That edge would be important in the coming days.
He watched the rear view mirror carefully as he drove out of the parking lot and pulled his cell phone from the holder at his hip. Nine-one-one was a quick call. Brief and to the point. A dead body, nothing more. All the while, he kept the white Taurus in his peripheral vision. Yep, definite interest from the single occupant inside, but no attempt to follow. They were certain the kid and her mother would show up soon. They had no idea that woman was smarter than a whole unit of dumb asses. He shook his head and made the turn that would lead him in the direction he sensed Elizabeth had taken. His hunt was nearly at an end. Then he could begin playing in earnest.
* * * * *
Elizabeth was cold and hungry, and desperately fighting the rage and terror streaking through her veins, pumping hard and erratically through her heart. The snow was coming down so damned hard she had been forced to pull into the nearly deserted diner to wait it out. There she fed Cassie, watching the little girl eat even though her light blue eyes were still dilated in shock. Poor little Cassie, she thought. Her life had been a series of upheavals and it didn’t look like it was going to end anytime soon. She hadn’t even cried out when they walked into the destruction of what had once been their home and seen the men sent to kill her. She was more than aware that to do so could mean their lives. Cassie’s involuntary cries had alerted their enemies more than once, and the child had known it. It was a terrible burden for a little girl to have to bear. She was only eight. Bright, beautiful. Too beautiful to live the way she was being forced to live. She was too small. She was losing weight, losing sleep, just as Elizabeth herself was doing. At this rate, the stress of running would kill them before Dane’s enemies could.
Dane. She stilled the curse that rage fed to her lips. He had been Cassie’s father. Not a good man, but Elizabeth hadn’t believed he was essentially a bad man, either. Not until he had placed his daughter’s life in danger in an attempt to save his own skin. The bastard hadn’t even cared what he was doing to the little girl. All he cared about was saving himself.
It sickened her to think of the bargain he had made with the man he had been stealing from. How easily he had betrayed Cassie, hoping to escape his own punishment.
“Maybe Dash will come tonight,” the little girl mumbled softly to herself, barely loud enough for Elizabeth to hear the words. “Do you think he will?”
She wasn’t talking to her, Elizabeth knew. When the shock and stress was this great, Cassie turned inward, to herself. She talked to the fairy that she swore followed them. A bright, tiny little form that whispered comfort to her, that assured her Dash Sinclair was a good daddy name. And that Dash would save them.
God, she wanted to scream out in rage that her child had been reduced to such fairy tales to survive the mental and emotional cruelties being inflicted on her. Cassie was so certain the soldier she had been writing to would rescue them both and they would all live happily ever after. She didn’t know how to explain to her daughter that men, no matter how strong or how kind, wanted no part of the trouble they would bring.
Not that the soldier hadn’t made her daughter’s life brighter for a while; the bicycle she had been given only a few short months to enjoy, a small doll that Elizabeth had seen torn to shreds in that damned apartment. And she knew he had been behind the gifts of food that had come for such a short while. She had appreciated the gesture, but it had been just another burden. Another person to worry about. She wondered if he had even realized Cassie’s letters had stopped coming to him. If he had even cared. He didn’t know them, had nothing invested in them, and he was half a world away. If he did bother to check, he would believe they had died in that apartment explosion last winter. Damn. It had been close. They nearly had died. The bastards chasing them couldn’t even set up a decent assassination properly. And now, here her daughter sat, another broken dream shredding her soul apart because she had believed so deeply that Dash Sinclair would be there. That he was searching desperately for them. That they wouldn’t have to run anymore. Cassie had been watching for him for a week now, hope gleaming in her eyes each time she caught sight of a tall, dark-haired man. Daily, the little girl studied the fuzzy, out of focus picture he had sent her, terrified that if she didn’t recognize the soldier herself, then he might pass by them without knowing who they were. The picture was taken in front of a helicopter with six other men. Dash stood in the rear, dusty, dressed in Army fatigues, his features blurred. She wouldn’t recognize him if he walked up to her.
“Eat, Cassie,” Elizabeth whispered, reaching across the booth to smooth back her daughter’s tangled dark curls from her white face. “We’ll get a room for the night and see if we can get some rest.” If Cassie didn’t sleep soon she would become ill. Elizabeth shuddered at the thought of trying to find medical help for her.
The attached motel seemed reasonable. A few hours of sleep wouldn’t hurt either of them. There was no way anything or anyone was moving in that blizzard outside. No one except the moron pulling into the parking lot in the military Hummer, that is.
Elizabeth watched as a large dark figure exited the vehicle before striding quickly to the door of the diner. He stepped inside, larger than life, looking stronger than a mountain, his eyes going immediately to her and Cassie. For a moment, fear shook her before she pushed it away. No. The men chasing her weren’t that dangerous, that hard. If they were, she would have been toast two years ago. He was tall, one of the tallest men she had ever seen. Dressed in jeans, boots and a cotton shirt. Thick black hair grew rakishly long, falling over the collar of his shirt. Intense brown eyes, almost the color of amber, surveyed the diner slowly before coming back to her. Electricity sizzled in the air then, as though invisible currents connected them, forcing her to recognize him on a primitive level. Not that she wouldn’t take notice anyway. He was power, strength, and so incredibly male that her breath caught at the sight of him.
She watched his eyes flare with… No, that wasn’t possession. She was losing her mind. Sleep deprivation and pain had brought her so low that she was seeing only what she knew she wanted to see. It wasn’t possible that a stranger could see her, feel possession, hunger and determination to the extent that she thought she had glimpsed in his gaze before it became shuttered.
For the first time in years Elizabeth felt her hormones flare to life. That look was almost physical. A caress. A statement of intent. She blinked and shook her head at the hallucination. No. He was just a big, good-looking man, and she was getting desperate. Desperate to find help. To know her daughter was protected. He was big enough to appear able to protect them both. But she knew by now that no one could protect them. It had been driven home forcibly time and time again. She lowered her head, watching Cassie once again as the little girl listlessly nibbled one of the fries from her plate. She had only taken a few bites of the hamburger, mostly because Elizabeth had forced her to.
“You have to eat, baby,” she whispered softly, fighting to hide her tears. “It’s okay now. I promise.”
“I’m tired, Momma.” Cassie dragged a fry through the ketchup now, but didn’t eat it. She was merely playing with it, and only halfheartedly at best.
“Eat, Cassie. And drink your milk.” She pushed the glass closer to the little girl, her heart breaking as Cassie raised her head, staring at her with bleak, horror-ridden eyes. Elizabeth had to fight to still her scream of outrage. No child should ever stare out of such shattered eyes.
“Dash will come tonight, Momma.” Tear-filled eyes stared back at her, so heartbreakingly sad that Elizabeth wanted to die rather than continue to face them.
“Baby…” How could she tell her? How could she explain that there was no way Dash Sinclair could even know they were alive, let alone that once again, their killers were only hours behind them?