Page 23 of Hunted

Leila sat in the parking lot of her apartment building for ten minutes, watching her surroundings. She was trying to be cautious, get the lay of the land. She was also using the time to try to figure out her next steps. On the drive from Clint’s house, she’d changed her mind a hundred times about what she should do. She could try to stay in Vegas and tough it out. See where the situation went. But that seemed so risky. If it was just her, she might consider it worthwhile to stand her ground, but…

She glanced in the rearview mirror to where Thomas sat in his car seat. No, she couldn’t risk him. She opened a travel app on her phone and searched for airplane tickets to Puerto Rico. There were flights later that day, but she needed a little time to settle her business, so she selected a morning flight the next day.

Okay. She’d go into her apartment, gather up the things she needed, and get out. She’d find an inexpensive motel near the airport and get on the plane tomorrow. A little risky, but overall a sensible plan. If she needed to, she’d leave Thomas with her mother, and return to Vegas to deal with Mike. Somehow.

Time to be brave. She got Thomas out of the car and walked quickly to her door on the first floor. She unlocked it and breathed a sigh of relief when she entered. Nothing had been disturbed. Mike hadn’t broken in. She slid the deadbolt into place and put Thomas in his crib so she was free to move around. It wouldn’t take her long to pack.

She was tossing extra clothes into a box when a fist pounding on her door startled her. She held perfectly still, hoping whoever it was would go away.

“I know you’re in there, Leila. Open the fuckin’ door. Now.” Mike yelled.

Oh, god. She thought she’d been cautious enough, sitting outside her apartment for a while before going inside to make sure no one was lurking around, but someone must have been watching her place who she hadn’t noticed. Someone who had told Mike that she’d come home. And now, here he was. She glanced through the open door of Thomas’s room. He was contentedly playing. How could she have put her sweet boy in danger?

She had to get through this, had to protect him. She closed his bedroom door, hoping to spare him the worst of what was coming. The pounding continued.

“You got ten seconds and then I’m breakin’ it down.”

She pulled her phone from her pocket and sent a quick text to Clint, hoping he’d see it. She was just about to dial 911 when the door burst open. She jumped, accidentally dropping her phone, as he came toward her.

Her purse with her gun in it was on the other side of the room. Why hadn’t she grabbed that?

“Bitch,” Mike greeted her. He looked meaner than she’d ever seen him, but she held herself in place, ready to fight him with whatever she had, ready to protect her son.

Clint’s bathroom was full of steam by the time he finished his shower. He didn’t usually dawdle like that, but damn. He’d needed to take some time to get his head straight. He’d been berating himself for sleeping with Leila, for allowing himself to believe that they might have a future together after all this was over. He should have known better.

And yet, he hadn’t been able to help himself.

With a sigh, he stepped out onto the warm tile floor and wrapped a towel around his waist, yanking another towel off the rack nearby to scrub over his wet hair, then wipe a small spot clear on the mirror to stare at his reflection. “You’re such an idiot,” he said to himself. “A dumbass.”

The smart thing to do would be to put some emotional distance between them, as Leila had been doing. Keep her and Thomas at arms-length until all this was over to prevent his heart from being broken. Well, broken worse than it already had been anyway. It was too late now to mind his own business, but he could treat this like any other mission he’d been sent on in the SEALs. Do the work, protect the assets, then send them on their way. Yep. That’s what he’d do. Keep it strictly professional from here on out.

After shaving and brushing his teeth, Clint wandered back out into his bedroom to change. A glance down the hall showed light pouring through the open doorway of the guest room.Determined to stick to his plan, he tugged on a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt, then headed down to Leila’s room to apologize for acting like such a jerk earlier.

Except when he reached the doorway, he found the room empty. The bed was neatly made. The portable crib was empty.

Shit.

The bottom of his stomach dropped out.

“Leila?” he rushed to the living room but there was no one there. He ran to the kitchen. The kid snacks were gone from the counter. He staggered back to the living room. The basket of toys that had been there, including Clint’s rabbit, was gone.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He yanked his phone from its charger and prepared to dial her number when a note on the coffee table caught his attention. Cursing, he picked it up and read the words scrawled across the paper.

I’m sorry to go this way, but I think it’s best for everyone. Thank you for taking Thomas and me in and thank you for teaching me how to protect myself. I’ll always be grateful. Take care. L

Clint stared at the words for a moment, struggling to take them in. Leila was gone. She and Thomas were out there somewhere, on their own, with her ex after them. That was bad. So, so bad.

And it was his fault.

If he hadn’t acted like such a dick to her before, if he’d kept his feelings out of the situation, if he’d done his job the wayhe should have, then she wouldn’t have left. Wouldn’t have put herself and Thomas in such danger.

“Fuck.” Think. He needed to think. Despite the fear churning through him, Clint forced himself to concentrate on the facts. She couldn’t have been gone from his house for long. He opened up the browser on his phone and checked flights out of McCarren Airport. Nothing to Puerto Rico until this afternoon. Okay. Maybe she didn’t go straight to the airport. But if not there, then where?

The answer only made the nausea bubbling in his gut worsen. Her apartment. The exact worst choice she could’ve made. He’d bet good money her ex had his eyes all over that place. With his gang buddies involved, they’d be casing the apartment complex twenty-four-seven. Dammit.

He rushed back to his bedroom and grabbed his Sig, plus two extra clips of ammo, while he jammed his feet into shoes. He stopped by the kitchen to grab some zip ties, just in case he had to take Mike down and keep him restrained until the cops showed up, and then he headed out. He’d just about made it to his truck when a text dinged on his phone. The message hit him like a slap in the face.

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