Page 33 of The Foreman
The claim punched heat into his chest. He tightened his grip, hauling her with him as they tore around the corner. Headlights flared—the SUV barreling toward them, engine snarling. The vehicle braked hard, tires screaming, the acrid scent of burnt rubber filling the night. Reed threw the rear door wide as Trace shoved Macy inside ahead of him, then dove in after her, the door slamming shut as gunfire cracked against the SUV’s rear quarter panel.
Trace pulled Macy against him, chest heaving. She looked up, eyes blazing. “Told you I could do it.”
“You did more than that,” he said. His hand slid to her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek. “You were incredible.”
Her breath caught, but her voice stayed steady. “Took you long enough.”
He kissed her, hot and hard, adrenaline bleeding into need. She melted into him, mouth fierce, fingers tangled in his shirt. The world outside blurred into pursuit and headlights, but in that moment, it was only them—partners in danger, in fire, in something that felt like more than survival.
Hawke’s voice cut sharp from the front. “We’ve got tails. Hold on.”
Trace broke the kiss, his forehead resting against hers. “This isn’t over.”
“Good,” she whispered, lips swollen. “I’m not done with you either.”
The SUV swerved hard, momentum slamming them against each other. Trace wrapped an arm around her, muscles locking as the world tilted. The vibration of the road thundered up through the frame, his pulse hammering to match. He could feel Macy’s breath ragged against his throat, her heart racing in time with his. Fierce pride surged through him, raw and undeniable. Tonight she had proven herself, not just stubborn or reckless, but sharp, brave, and deadly sure at his side. She was no longer a brat he had to corral. She was his partner, and the thought lit a fire in his chest hotter than the chase still screaming outside their windows.
Outside, headlights closed in, glaring beams slicing through the dark as engines roared closer. Inside the SUV, adrenaline and heat surged between them, the fire of battle colliding with raw desire until Trace felt like both might consume them.
Trace chambered a round, teeth bared in something that might have been a grin. “Let’s finish this.”
The SUV shot onto the freeway, the surge of acceleration slamming them back into their seats as headlights clawed after them. Enemy engines screamed through the night, each roar a promise of violence. Trace cut a glance at Macy—her eyes burned with adrenaline, fierce and bright, her mouth curved in a defiant grin. He had trusted her in the belly of Nexus, and she had delivered with fire in her veins and steel in her hands. The sight of her lit him up, pride and hunger colliding until his chest felt ready to burst.
Sirens wailed in the distance, headlights slicing closer through the dark. Trace tightened his grip on his Glock, then leaned toward Macy, his voice low and dangerous. “They’re coming hard. You ready to raise hell and show them exactly who they’re chasing?”
10
MACY
The SUV jolted violently as Hawke wrenched the wheel into a savage turn, tires shrieking against asphalt. The sudden force slammed Macy against Trace’s chest, his arm snapping tight around her as if he could hold the chaos itself at bay. The impact stole her breath, but she didn’t fight him. The solid heat of his body, the steady press of his hand anchoring her, was the only thing stopping her pulse from spiraling completely out of control.
The roar of the engine wrapped around her, every nerve lit sharp with fear and adrenaline, yet she clung tighter, finding steadiness in the cage of his arms.
“Hang on,” Hawke barked from the front. “Two more on our tail. I’m going to take them home and let them meet the family.”
Reed grinned. "We called ahead to tell them we're coming in hot. They'll have the welcome mat rolled out."
Macy coughed through the haze of adrenaline. “Is this your idea of a good time?”
Reed twisted in the passenger seat, his rifle balanced against his knee. “Smart mouth still works. Good sign.”
Trace’s voice rumbled low near her ear. “Ignore them. Focus on me.”
For Macy, that had never been a problem. Every time his voice dropped like that, steady and commanding, it reached under her skin and tugged at something she couldn’t ignore. She clung tighter, her pulse racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the chase outside.
Headlights carved closer, white beams knifing across the night as gunmetal sedans bore down on them. Hawke’s shoulders flexed, his jaw tight as he cut the wheel again. The SUV fishtailed, corrected, then surged toward the familiar sprawl of the Iron Spur’s warehouse compound.
Macy’s breath caught. She had left this place only hours ago, yet the sight of it again made her chest tighten, memory and dread crowding her ribs. Now, every muscle in her body tightened at the sight of its walls rising out of the dark like a fortress.
And then she saw them.
The Silver Spur team stood in the floodlit mouth of the lot, a wall of men armed and ready. Gavin Briggs, calm as a stone at the center. Jesse flanking him. Other operatives fanned out with rifles, their stances steady, their focus locked. The kind of presence that made smart enemies think twice.
They split ranks in perfect synchronicity, creating a channel for the SUV to surge through. The instant its tires cleared the line, the operatives sealed the gap again, rifles lifted, a human barricade of steel and will standing shoulder to shoulder to meet the danger head-on.
The vehicles chasing them braked so abruptly the shriek of tires tore through the night, headlights flaring wild across the lot. Engines bellowed in protest, metal snarling as drivers hesitated at the sight of the armed wall awaiting them. One by one, the sedans faltered, peeled off, and vanished into the darkness, swallowed whole by the Texas night.
Relief slammed through Macy’s chest in a rush so fierce it made her ribs ache, leaving her breath jagged and unsteady.
