CHAPTER TEN
She stared at him in horror. California? Was it possible Hank worked for Cameron Collier? That he was a hired hand paid to return Colette to the man who apparently wanted her dead?
Half blind with panic, she fumbled to open the passenger door, needing to run, escape from him. With a hissed curse, he reached across the seat and grabbed her arm.
“What are you trying to do, kill yourself? Or maybe you think you can jump from a speeding car with a baby in your arms and both of you will be just fine?”
As if on cue, Brook began to wail. Colette released her hold on the door handle and hugged the baby tight. Oh, God, he was right. She swallowed hard against the panic, realizing that for the moment she was helpless to do anything to change what was happening. She couldn’t risk jumping from the car and he didn’t seem to be in the mood to pull over and let her out.
Her mind whirled, more clear than it had been in hours. California was a long way from here. If shebided her time and was patient, an opportunity for escape would surely present itself.
She stroked Brook’s dark hair, her gaze divided between the baby in her arms and the man driving the car. Why hadn’t she suspected he might be more than he appeared? Why hadn’t she been more wary of his sensual charm, his seductive behavior?
Beneath his harsh good looks, she now recognized a steely strength that could only radiate from a cold, hard heart. She’d tasted the warmth of his kiss without realizing the bitterness of cold calculation that hid beneath.
Damn her for being a fool. She’d reacted to him as a female when she should have responded with more wariness. “Why are you taking me to California? Do you work for Cameron Collier?”
His dark gaze shot to her. “How do you know Cameron Collier? Is your memory returning?”
“No. Abby told me I was working for him in California and yesterday I called his office. So, do you work for him or not?”
“No, Colette.” He turned and flashed her a tight smile. “I’m one of the good guys.”
One of the good guys? Then why were his eyes filled with such secrets? Why did she get the feeling he spoke only half-truths? And why, oh, why, if he was a good guy did something about him still cause a responding sense of dread, of deep betrayal in her?
“I think the best thing to do is find a motel to hole up in for the night, then we can take off fresh in the morning,” he said more to himself than to her. “Once we get settled in someplace, I’ll explain everything toyou, but at the moment you’d better buckle up your seat belt because I think we’ve got a tail.”
Colette whirled around in the seat and looked behind them, where a car sped toward them, road dust whirling from the tires. The car was still too far away for her to discern make or color, but it was gaining fast. She hurriedly buckled her seat belt, wishing there was a car seat for Brook.
Hank pressed on the gas pedal, his knuckles white as his entire body tensed. Colette could almost feel the adrenaline flooding through him, radiating off him as the car behind them came closer…closer. It was now close enough that she could tell it was a dark blue sedan, but too far away to see the driver. “Do you recognize the car?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. But that doesn’t mean anything. There are a dozen places on the ranch it could have been parked and nobody would have seen it.”
“Maybe he’s just in a hurry and wants to pass us,” she said optimistically. “Maybe you’re being paranoid and he has nothing to do with us.”
“I don’t think so. Get down.” The last two words were a staccato command accompanied by him pulling her head and shoulders down in the space between them on the seat. At the same moment Colette heard a sound like the crack of backfire.
She squeezed her eyes tightly closed, realizing the sound was gunfire. She screamed as the car careened, throwing her first against the passenger door, then hard up against Hank’s thigh.
Brook stopped crying, apparently lulled by the crazy back and forth motion of the car. For a momentthe only sounds were the roar of the car engine, Hank’s steady breathing and Colette’s heartbeat pounding in her ear.
Colette refused to believe her life would end here, on a narrow two-lane highway, never knowing the father of her child or the reason for her death.
“If we can just get into the city, we can get lost amid the other traffic. Out here we’re sitting ducks,” Hank said, then muttered a curse as another shot rang out.
“If you haven’t passed it yet, there’s a road on the left that’s a shortcut into Cheyenne. It’s right after a big white house with a mailbox that looks like a barn. The road looks like nothing more than a cow path, but it’s a straight shot into the center of Cheyenne.”
Hank shot her a suspicious look. “How do you know that?”
How did she? She had no idea. “I don’t know, it’s one of the crazy things I do remember. Believe me, Hank. At the moment the guy behind us with the gun is a much bigger problem than you are. Why would I lie about the road?”
He didn’t answer. “If we can just keep far enough away from him, he can’t do much damage. In a little while it will be dark and that will work in our favor.”
He was right. Colette hadn’t realized the golden hue of twilight had deepened to the purple shadows of dusk’s last gasp. She prayed for the sweet darkness of night in which to hide.
First she and Hank would hide from the man with the gun, then once that danger had passed, she and Brook would hide from Hank.
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