Come on, come on.
Tears misted her eyes. More gunfire. Tremors shook Laine’s shoulders. She couldn’t lose him. He’d done nothing but protect them.
Had risked his life.
If Roarke was hurt, she’d never forgive herself. Trepidation sunk its vicious teeth into her bones. They were running out of time. The police would come.
And if Cameron had reported Emmy as kidnapped, they’d be in a world of trouble.
As a mother, she had to protect Emmy first. That conviction was heavy on her soul. It wasn’t even a decision. She closed her eyes on a breath and counted down from ten in her head.
Please, God, let him be okay.
Roarke, hurry.
5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . .
She sucked back a cry. He wouldn’t leave her—how could she just abandon him?
Movement in her sideview mirror made her jump. Roarke emerged, his brow dipped with menace and his chiseled jaw locked with determination.
Emmy let out a cheer.
Yanking off her seatbelt, Laine scurried over the console. Grateful she didn’t have to drive right now. Her body shook violently as Roarke got behind the wheel. He caught her face.
His hazel eyes bore into her. Hard. Unrelenting. And so damn sexy her heart skidded to a halt.
“You okay?”
She compressed her lips and nodded.
He raked his gaze over her face then let go. “Good.” He turned his attention to the wheel. Shifting into drive, he glanced in the back seat. “You good too, sugar?”
“Yes,” Emmy said.
Laine’s body melted against the smooth leather as he pulled out of the alley. Sirens blared. By the time Roarke had reached the end of the street, the bubbles of red and blue were in front of the duplex with neighbors gathered out front.
She turned around to smile at Emmy. Her daughter’s eyes were lost, sad, and exhausted.
She’d never hated Cameron more.
“Close your eyes, okay, baby?”
Emmy hugged Big Bun and leaned against the door.
“I don’t understand how they found us,” Roarke ground out. He wound and unwound his fist on the leather steering wheel. “We’ll have to check over your things for a tracking device.” His gaze darted to her.
Nausea bubbled in her stomach. The idea that Cameron could be watching her every move made her want to throw up.
“Anything’s possible,” Roarke added.
“But if he’s tracking me, he wouldn’t have had to—” She cleared her throat. “Speak to Hassan.”
Roarke nodded. “That’s true.” He stopped at a red light and looked at her again. His demeanor had changed.
Cold. Hard. Calculated.
He’d stepped into secret-ops-soldier mode. And it was hot. Despite the danger following them like a tsunami, a thrill rolled in her belly.
