The Untamed Hunter

Shep ate slowly, thinking about how he was going to handle Maggie on this mission. There was much more at stake here than she realized. He had to be the boss on this venture whether she liked it or not. At this moment, he wasn’t ready to tell her that. They had a day to get ready. One way or another, Maggie was going to have to bend to his way of doing things. Or else…

Three

“I’ll drive,” Shep said, heading around the car they would be using. The vehicle was parked in the underground garage of the OID building. The July morning was warm and humid, hinting of the high temperatures and humidity to come in the sultry afternoon hours.

“Hold your horses, Hunter.”

He turned, surprised at the warning in Maggie’s voice. As she stood near the passenger side of the car, Shep had a tough time keeping his gaze from devouring her, because to him, she looked beautiful in the comfortable khaki slacks and dark blue blouse she wore. The sleeves of the blouse were decorated with a touch of lace, giving her a very feminine look. Beneath the silk of the blouse he knew she wore her flak jacket, mandatory on this mission. He was wearing his beneath his white shirt and sport coat. Already the thing was beginning to chafe him, but he knew the wisdom of wearing it.

“What?” She was looking at him with her eyes narrowed. Shep knew that look. Halting, his hands on the top of the car near the driver’s door, he said, “What’s the problem?”

“How can you ask?” Maggie demanded. She tried mightily to ignore how handsome he looked this morning. His black hair was damp and gleaming from his recent shower. His jaw was scraped free of the shadow of beard that would inevitably appear in the afternoon hours. His eyes were bloodshot, and she wondered if he’d gotten much sleep last night. She sure hadn’t; too much of their tortured and passionate past had kept resurrecting itself before her closed eyes while she lay in bed. “Shep, this is not a replay of eighteen years ago. You think you know everything. You think that, as usual, I’m a hothouse violet incapable of being your equal.”

“Wait a minute—”

“No,” Maggie said coolly, locking her gaze on his frosty one, “it’s different this time, Hunter. And you are going to have to be a lot more flexible than you were two decades ago. Or else!” She held up the keys to the car and smiled a little. “I’m driving.”

“I suppose you’ve taken evasive driver’s training?”

“Yes.”

“And terrorist evasive training, as well?”

“I can see the surprise in your eyes right now, Hunter.” She gave him a smile that dripped with honey. “Yes. And just in case you ask me when, I’m certified for the next year. I just passed the two courses, for the fifth year in a row.”

One corner of his mouth flexed upward. “Maybe you have changed,” he admitted sourly. “Okay, you drive for two hours, and then we’ll trade off in shifts. How’s that sound to you?” He decided to concede to her on this point, knowing there would be tougher battles ahead—things he couldn’t allow Maggie to do herself, for fear she’d get killed. Like Sarah.

Maggie was pleased that he was thinking in partnership terms right now. “That sounds fair and equitable, Mr. Hunter. Thank you for your consideration.” She saw his blue eyes glimmer with unease. And the slight downward movement of his hard mouth made her openly grin in triumph. “Nothing has changed at all with you, Hunter, through all these years. You are the same guy I knew way back when.”

“Some things don’t change,” he agreed grumpily. Shep moved around the rear of the car. As Maggie passed him, their hands brushed. How he ached to really touch her, to be able to slide his fingers knowingly up that smooth, warm flesh. He recalled how wonderful she had felt in his arms as they made torrid love to one another.

Once inside the car Shep forced his mind back to business, taking note of the special equipment in the vehicle. An onboard computer showed the map of the area where they would be driving, including all the rural routes and all the country roads. Georgia was full of country roads, and if they got into trouble, they would have to know which one to take to try and escape their pursuers. There were two different radios, one connected to the state police and the other a direct line to the FBI van, a mobile headquarters that would shadow their journey. After testing each instrument to make sure it was operational, he glanced over at Maggie as she strapped in with a special seat harness and adjusted the mirrors.

“I hate flak jackets,” she griped as she scratched beneath her right arm.

Shep nodded and shut the door. “They’re necessary.” He strapped himself in, turned on the computer and opened a laptop, which was plugged into the car lighter. The laptop was mounted where the glove box should have been and sat on a small movable table in front of him, fitting comfortably above his thighs. “Part of the game we’re entering,” he warned her, in case she had any thought of ditching it because it was uncomfortable.

Glancing at Maggie once more, he felt his heart beat hard, underscoring how much he still…still cared about her. Nightmarish visions of Sarah’s death suddenly filled his mind. Blinking hard, he removed the specter. No, he wouldn’t let Maggie meet Sarah’s tragic end. It had been his fault that his one and only partner at Perseus had been killed in the line of duty. His fault. Only his. Shep would be damned if Maggie got caught in the line of fire because of him. No, he had to control this mission from the get-go—whether Maggie liked it or not. Her life was at stake. He’d lost one woman he’d loved to a bullet. He wasn’t about to lose Maggie, too.

“Everything up and running?” Maggie asked as she switched on the car’s engine. The Sedan purred to life.

“Roger that,” he said, doing a double-check on their computer map. “I’ll give you the directions to get on—”

“Never mind,” Maggie said briskly, “I memorized the route to Savannah last night.” She proceeded to verbally give him the details of where they were supposed to drive. Their route had been set up by the vigilant FBI, and there would be cars with agents placed along certain milepost markers, where other roads intersected the freeway, so that the FBI could give them help sooner rather than later, if they called for it. The unmarked white van would always be on the freeway, ten miles behind them, to relay such information to the awaiting agents.

She saw his face darken as she reeled off the routes in perfect order. What was the matter with Shep? He should be pleased with her preparation for this mission. Instead, he was looking at her oddly. And he seemed more controlling than she last recalled. Not that Shep had ever been Mr. Sharing. Nope, not him. Smiling a little, she put the car in reverse and backed out of the space.