“Eric—”
“Just a precaution,” Jeff said. He laid a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t want to be identifying either one of you at the local morgue. Now get out of here, before I do something disgusting, like hug Eric.”
“I’ll take it then.” Annie wrapped her arms around him before he had a chance to retreat. “Have a safe trip.”
“From your lips, darlin’.” Before she saw it coming he dipped her, then kissed her. Gently, but with enough heat it left her lips humming. He set her on her feet and, whistling, he strode out of the hangar. “Hey, sweetheart.” A tall, stunning redhead in a blue uniform turned at his voice, eyebrows raised. “Know anywhere a starving man can get a decent meal?”
“Come on.” Annie turned at Eric’s voice. “Jeff is well on his way to dinner and—dessert.”
She shook her head. “Are all of you so obvious?”
“No.” She let out a squeak when he pulled her in, one arm trapping her. “Some of us call it love.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry, blondie.”
“Damn.” Tears burned her eyes. She laid her head on his shoulder, let out a shaky breath. “I really wanted to stay mad at you, at least long enough for an apology gift.”
Eric rubbed her back, then took her hand and led her out of the hangar.
“Let’s go find Marcus—then you can pick it out yourself.”
*
Claire let out a pained gasp as Marcus shoved her to the floor of the van.
Gunshots roared through the night air. Window glass shattered, raining on them as the driver spun the van, trying to escape the ambush. Claire slammed against the wall when the van skidded to a halt. Her breath froze in her throat at the voice that shouted above the rumbling engine. The chief—who should still be lying senseless on the floor of the police station.
“I only want the witches! You are free to go, if you simply turn them over to me.”
Marcus crawled over to one of the small windows, careful of the jagged glass. With a curse he backed away from the window—and the long barrel of a rifle followed him.
“You heard the chief.” A bearded face appeared behind the rifle. Claire flinched at the darkness that coiled around him, caressing his face, his hands, the trigger of the rifle. Cold iced the glass on the floor of the van. “Hand ‘em over, you all can go.”
Marcus kept himself between her and the rifle. “I am afraid we can’t do that.”
Rage flashed across the man’s face. Claire braced herself for the blast of the rifle. He trembled, obviously fighting whatever controlled him.
“You gotta do it. She don’t take no, ever.”
She. Claire knew then the part of him that resisted understood the chief was no longer the chief. Maybe we can get through to that part—
“Step away, Andersen!” The chief’s command destroyed that option before she could finish forming it. “I only want the condemned. But I will take all of you if you do not release them to me. Immediately.”
Mindy Kay joined Marcus in front of them, making herself a target. “We’re surrounded,” she whispered. “And the driver doesn’t want to hurt any of the townspeople—”
“He may not have the option.” Marcus turned his head, and Claire saw the sweat sliding down his jaw. The revolver in his hand was steady. She figured he knew how to use it. “Move them to the front of the van.”
Claire’s heart jumped. “Marcus—”
“No argument. I am going to provide enough of a distraction for us to escape.” He looked at Mindy Kay. “Tell your mysterious driver to make himself ready. It will be a small window.”
Kneeling, he pulled the door latch up, and slid the side door open.
“Good evening, chief. Remember me?”
The high-pitched scream barely sounded human. Marcus fired one shot and rolled across the floor. “GO!”
The van lurched forward. Gunfire exploded behind them—through the open door Claire saw just how many victims the chief had under his control. She clutched the floor when the van swerved, smacking the wall when it veered the other direction.
Before she could tumble again Marcus fell on top of her, using his body as a shield. The van slid sideways, and she held her breath, waiting for it to roll. Marcus let out a harsh breath and curled around her, pinning her in place.
The shouts faded as they bounced down the road. Every single bruise and cut Claire had acquired flared back to life. She twisted her fingers into the front of Marcus’ shirt, bit down on the scream in her throat.
An eternity passed before they finally shuddered to a stop, and the engine died.