Page 25 of Peace Under Fire

Before those sunglasses had swallowed her face again, he’d seen both exhaustion and anxiety clouding her eyes. There was a brittleness about her, too. Something he sensed rather than saw. Something had happened, something bad enough to send her after him. But this wasn’t the time or the place to delve into any of that. They needed to get out of here first, hole up someplace safe. Then they could talk.

At least the headache had receded, making it easier to focus.

“I’ll go out first. If the path is clear, I’ll beckon you forward. If I don’t beckon you out, then hide somewhere inside the clinic. Give me an hour to draw the bastards away, then get in your car and head to the Burger King on the corner of Whitman and Keller.”

Her clothes were looser than the last time he’d seen her. She’d lost weight. Meeting at a fast-food joint would give him a chance to get some calories into her.

“But—”

“This isn’t open for debate,” Squish said flatly. “You wait here until I’m sure it’s safe outside.”

She deflated at his tone. Her chin and shoulders dipping low.

Damn it.

He scowled, softening his tone. “If they’re watching me to get to you, we don’t want them knowing you’re here. Trust me on this. I can keep you safe if you let me.”

Her chin lifted enough to give him a nod.

“Okay.” He hesitated, fighting the urge to touch her, comfort her. He clenched his fingers to keep his hands by his sides. “Just wait here,” he said again, and added lamely, “Everything’s going to be fine. Trust me.”

That last bit brought her head up. He watched her mouth tighten and wished he could see her eyes. He suspected they were full of doubt. He didn’t blame her. He hadn’t given her cause to trust him so far.

After one final hesitation, he forced himself to move. What was wrong with him? He never hesitated once a decision was made.

CHAPTER 6

It was cold outside, the sky a sullen, slate gray. The wet chill of snow nipped the air. He zipped his coat up and casually scanned the cars parked amid the slush crusted parking slots. All but one of the cars—a red minivan—were empty. A woman sat in the van’s driver’s seat, reading something she’d propped on the wheel while taking healthy bites out of something in her hand—a sandwich or a burger or something. It looked like she was wearing a blue scrub top. While a tail could be female as easily as male, they wouldn’t be driving a minivan. Sure, the vehicle would blend in, but it would be a bitch to maneuver in tight spaces and it lacked the horsepower necessary for high-speed chases.

He surveyed the back and sides of the parking lot. Nobody loitering. The area was deserted except for the woman in the van. He turned back to the clinic exit and beckoned Mandy forward.

She came out immediately, closing the distance between them in a furtive scuttle.

Yeah, like that wouldn’t get them noticed fast.

When she joined him, he caught her bare hand and drew her against his side. That weird prickle swept up his fingers again, like she emitted some strange electrical current.

Weird.

“Relax,” he told her in a low voice. “Act casual.”

She took a deep breath and nodded, then forced her shoulders up and back. Which made her look even more awkward.

He shook his head slightly, amusement kicking up the corners of his mouth. Christ, she was bad at this. Best to get her into her vehicle and out of sight.

“Where’s your car?” he asked, aware that the prickle had permeated his chest.

A gentle warmth unfurled in the tingle’s wake. It was the oddest thing; the encroaching migraine seemed to retreat. The warmth spread out, relaxing tight muscles, and soothing the churn in his gut. When he shifted his grip from her bare hand to her coat-covered elbow, the tingle and heat slowly dissipated. But the migraine, it simply simmered there in the back of his mind, an annoying pressure now rather than actual pain.

She nodded toward a small hatchback in the front row. It slouched between the slush crusted ruts on low tires. He shot a quick glance around. Nobody was watching them. The parking lot was still empty.

So far, so good.

His sense of satisfaction faded the closer they got to Mandy’s car.

The damn thing looked like it was held together by rust and prayers. The tires were bald. It sat significantly lower on the back end than the front, indicating a shot suspension. Beneath the Rorschach patterns of rust and bare metal, there were faint traces of baby blue.

This was Mandy’s getaway car? What the fuck? A stiff breeze would crumple the damn thing.

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