Guns and the Girl Next Door

Holden yanked the wheel hard to the left as he stepped on the gas. His grip didn’t ease as he bent down, bringing his head close to hers.

“Go faster!” She screamed the command with all the out-of-control terror bubbling inside her.

“Can’t.” He pressed her farther into the seat with his free hand. “We’ll get stuck in the mud.”

She could feel the energy pounding off him as pinging sounds echoed all around her. The tires slid and the back of the car moved as if separate from the front. With a sudden crack, the window next to her head shattered and the car slowed.

She lost all ability to talk, to do anything, when a hand draped in a black glove reached into the truck. It slapped for her, grabbing for her hair, but she pressed her body low against the seat and begged Holden to do something.

She watched him morph into superspy mode. With one hand on the wheel and his foot on the gas, he threw out his free arm and pointed his gun at the darkness over her shoulder.

The deafening blast exploded right next to her face. She saw a burst of light and heard the thundering boom. Then the offensive hand fell away.

By the time she sat up, Holden had maneuvered them out of whatever had a hold of the wheel. They spun around in a circle and drove about five feet before he slowed to a stop.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice rubbed raw from all the yelling and panic.

“Checking.” He was out of the truck before she could stop him.

She slid across the seat and peeked out the driver’s side door. “Holden!”

“Do not move,” he called back.

Her muscles were frozen. If she wanted to jump down, run—anything—she couldn’t. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until he ran back and slid into his seat.

She smacked his arm.

“Hey!” He had the nerve to look offended.

“What were you thinking?”

“That I could identify him.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Did you?”

“No.” Holden kept glancing in his rearview mirror as he drove slow but steady through the chocking woods.

“Is he…”

“Dead?” Holden looked at her then. The terrified anguish from the tunnel was gone. He wore a mask of fury now.

She didn’t know if he was angry with her or coasting on adrenaline. Either way, she didn’t appreciate the barking. If he wanted attitude, she was more than prepared to show him some.

“Well, is he?”

“Very.”

Chapter Six

In the past hour he’d shot a man through the forehead and crawled through a tunnel. Only one of those things made Holden want to throw up. The fact that the small space scared him more than the killing made his stomach churn and heave even more.

Four years out of the military—away from the night that haunted him, breaking into his sleep at least once a week—and tight spaces still dropped him to his knees. And this time he had a witness.

No one, not even his fellow Recovery agents, knew about his private fears. Now Mia did. That fact ticked him off. It was the sort of weapon he didn’t hand anyone.

They walked down the hall of the nondescript condo building, his anger festering with every step. A part of him knew picking her out as the target of his rage and frustration was irrational. The other part of him didn’t care.

She broke into his sanctuary and dragged him out of it. Because of her, he lost his house and everything in it. He wasn’t one to collect stuff. He learned the hard way to travel light, but whenever he’d left before the choice had been his. This time, he got his butt kicked out by a hot blonde and a raging fire. He didn’t know which of these he liked less. The mix of the two sure as heck wasn’t his favorite.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

He stopped in front of Rod’s door and rang the bell. “No.”

“There are therapies—”

Holden’s hand hesitated over the doorknob. “Don’t.”

“They could help.”

He faced her. “I’m sure you know what ‘don’t’ means.”

“Are you always this testy?”

Something about her getting angry sucked the fight right out of him. He hoped he hadn’t gotten to the point where bossy women turned him on. If so, he might try that therapy after all.

“Being chased and shot at does that to me,” he said. “Yeah.”

“That’s not what I was talking about.”

He knew that. Knew it and ignored it. The claustrophobia was not up for discussion. Ever.

When the doorknob twisting and knocking didn’t work, Holden dug the key chain out of his pocket. “We’ll do it this way.”

She glanced down both ends of the hall. “Is this your place?”

“Belongs to my boss.”

“I thought you were unemployed.”

“Former boss, then.”

“I get the sneaky suspicion there’s a part of this story I’m missing.”

“That’s what I like about smart women.”

“What?” she asked.

“Almost everything, actually.” She snorted and he almost joined her. “For the record, it surprises me, too.”