Hot Protector(63)

It wasn’t quite what she wanted to say, but she was very aware of the man on the other end of the line.

He gave her a grin, then leaned forward and kissed her cheek. It was brief, but it sizzled into her like he’d touched her much more intimately.

“It’ll be okay, babe. This thing is almost over.”





THE WEIGHT of the pistol tucked into the shoulder holster was reassuring, as was the weight of the ankle holster and the knife at his belt. Chase didn’t want to use any of them, but he was prepared if he needed to. He picked up a freebie city paper from a stand near the office building entrance and continued down the street before taking a seat on a bench and opening the paper.

The van rolled up the street toward him, the carrier logo emblazoned on its sides. Chase scanned his surroundings, looking for anything out of the ordinary. There were people on the sidewalks, but no one seemed to be loitering. Cars moved along the road, brakes squealing and horns honking to signal the displeasure of the drivers.

Across the boulevard, a white car rolled two wheels up onto the median and parked, obviously too frustrated to find another—a legal—spot. The metal posts spaced at regular intervals meant that no car could get into the median, but there was clearly enough room for this guy to get out of traffic and piss off a whole lot of others while he did so.

The van passed Chase’s spot, gears grinding as the driver slowed to pull into the loading zone in front of the building. Across the street, the doors to the white car opened and two men got out.

One of them was Sergei Turov.

“Son of a bitch,” Chase said into his earpiece as he stood and started for the van. “Company’s here.”

“Goddammit,” Billy said. “The accident gave them time to defeat the script.”

Inside the van, Chase could hear the bulkhead door rolling up as the driver prepared to grab the packages he needed. Chase would have preferred to let the driver enter the building, but that wasn’t going to happen now. He had to get the package before Turov and his companion managed to cross the street.

Thankfully, traffic was zipping along because the light at the intersection up ahead was green. Turov and the other guy couldn’t just run across the street without risking being hit, so they hung at the edge of the median, waiting to sprint across as soon as possible.

Chase dropped the paper as he reached the open door of the vehicle. He put his hand on the inside of his jacket and took the steps up into the van. The driver was inside the cargo area with a dolly, putting packages on it and checking his handheld scanner. He looked up in surprise when Chase appeared.

There was no time to lose. The man broke into a stream of French, but Chase drew his weapon and the words ceased as the driver’s hands shot skyward.

“Sorry, dude,” Chase said. “I just need one thing. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He advanced into the cargo area. The 1000 shelf was to the left just like Billy had said. A quick scan along that shelf and he spotted a small padded envelope addressed to Tyler Nash. He grabbed it and sprinted off the van just as Turov and the other man came around the back.

The Audi wasn’t far, but he had to get to it, get onto the driver’s side, which was the traffic side, and get into his seat without getting hit by the cars rushing by. Then he had to whip the car into traffic. It was a lot to do before Turov and the other man caught up. His other choice was to keep running, to lead them away from Sophie and escape through the alleys and side streets.

But that would mean leaving Sophie vulnerable. Sending her to the airport to call Hawk was a last resort, not without risks of its own. It might be her best chance, however.

He had almost decided that was the best option when the Audi’s passenger door flew open. His heart nearly dropped to his toes. If she got out now—

But the car lurched suddenly, backing into the car behind it and then moving forward again, its nose inching out into traffic.

Fuck!

Chase put on a last burst of speed. He threw himself into the passenger seat, turning to fire behind him as Turov and the other man approached. He didn’t aim to kill, not here in the open with so many people, but he did intend to disable.

His shot must have winged the companion because he stumbled and fell to the ground, his palms coming out in an attempt to save himself. He rolled, screaming in pain, as Turov ducked into the protection of a doorway.

“Go!” Chase yelled at Sophie as she worked the car out of the slot.

“There’s too much traffic!”

“I don’t fucking care! Floor it!”

He yanked the passenger door closed just as something thunked into it. Turov peered around the corner and fired again. Chase ducked just in time as the bullet shattered the glass and then passed out through the windshield, leaving a round hole.