The car disappeared behind the containers. Perhaps the driver was the person Couch was to meet.
She dropped back her head and let out a groan. Stakeouts sucked. She’d just about given up on them catching the guy when a knock sounded on her window. She bolted upright.
Holy fuck! It was Couch bending over and grinning at her. She patted the seat for her purse that contained her gun remembering once more she hadn’t brought it.
“Mr. Couch.” Since she wasn’t wearing much makeup, and only had on a T-shirt and a light sweater instead of something sexy, perhaps he wouldn’t recognize her. Then how could she explain knowing his name? You’re an idiot.
He placed his palm on the window and then pounded on the glass three times. Her heart rate shot through the roof and she yanked the cuff to get loose. Did he think he could shatter the glass? Dear God in Heaven.
“I know who you are, Ms. Wharton. Tsk, tsk for trying to fool me.” The windows made it hard to hear the tone of his voice, but from the way he curled his lip he was pissed. Her throat closed up and her ribs squeezed her heart tight.
He stepped back, pulled out his gun, and aimed.
Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Her heart jumped up her throat. She tried to duck, but with her arm attached to the overhead handle, she couldn’t move. Oh, fuck. Three pops sounded. She waited for the bullets to pierce her body and the life to drain out, but nothing happened. She opened her eyes. The window didn’t shatter. Did his gun have blanks and he was only trying to scare her?
If so, he’d succeeded.
He lowered his arm and sneered. “Next time, you won’t be in a car.”
The ass turned around as calm as could be and walked toward the exit. No new car was visible so how had he gotten here?
She tugged hard on the restraint but it wouldn’t budge. “Aargh.”
Trax needed to know Couch was here. She searched the docks, but like before, saw no one.
Then the Mercedes eased out from behind the containers and exited the shipyard. Surely, Trax and his men had checked out the driver. She twisted around to see if the car stopped to picked up Couch, but it didn’t. Her foot tapped a hard beat on the floor trying to locate him. She couldn’t.
What seemed like forever later, Trax stepped from behind a tanker and motioned his men to retreat. As soon as she saw him, the tension dissipated, but her pits wreaked and sweat beaded her forehead.
Trax pulled open the door. His face said it all. He’d failed.
She twisted in her seat. Her throat was so dry she feared the words wouldn’t come out. “Couch was here and he tried to shoot me.” Her breaths whooshed out.
His eyes darkened and his lip twitched. “When?”
Now that she was safe, her bravado disappeared and a tear brimmed her lash. Her body sagged. “Can you undo me?” She wiggled her arm.
“Babe, I’m sorry I had to do that.”
The endearment swirled inside her and helped heal the fear a little. “You had to. Maybe if you hadn’t, Couch would have tried to take me.” Her stomach almost heaved.
“He’ll never get near you. I promise.” He unlocked the cuff and she lowered her arm. She rubbed the fingers that had almost gone asleep.
She didn’t want to tell him that unless he locked her in his apartment, he couldn’t keep her safe. “He already did. He shot the window, but maybe he didn’t have real bullets.”
“The windows are bulletproof. I never would have let you come if I didn’t know you were totally safe from Couch and from yourself.”
The tears she’d held back so long fell. She sniffled and swallowed hating this ordeal wasn’t over.
Trax pulled out his phone and called one of his men. He told him Couch had been there and they’d just missed him. He then faced her. “Tell me everything.”
Dropping her head back, she relived the almost deadly encounter. Her stomach swirled. She mentioned the white car.
“We saw the car. That wasn’t Couch.”
She sniffled. “After it disappeared behind the dumpster, Couch pounded on the window.” She squeezed her eyes shut, but the image of his leer wouldn’t go away.
Trax slammed his hand against the wheel. “Motherfucker.”
She couldn’t tell if he was upset that Couch almost got to her or because he was close and missed him. Trax scooted across the seat and hugged her. His warmth settled some of her nerves. “I’m so sorry I allowed you to talk me into letting you come.” He swept an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
She choked back a sob. “He called me by name. And it wasn’t Ms. Chambers.” Now the tears fell in earnest and she hiccupped.
Trax’s thumb swiped them away. “We’ll get the bastard. I promise.”