Chapter 1
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Andy Carter
“He… I…” I don’t know how to answer him.
He’s spattered with blood, his dark eyes glittering with fury. “He’s the man I’m supposed to marry,” I finally get out. I see his jaw set in dangerous lines, and I swallow hard.
“Get dressed,” he says. “We’re getting out of here.”
I don’t argue with him this time. There’s no longer room for defiance. I nod quickly and gather my clothes. I’d bought a couple of extra items when I came through town yesterday, and I’m sure that I’ll need them, but I’m still aware of the man lying groaning on the floor outside. The groans intensify as Mateo goes out to him again, and I’m almost afraid to see what he’s doing until, finally, I risk a quick glance. He’s trussed the guy up like a turkey, using tie-backs from the bedroom drapes.
“It’ll keep him out of our hair long enough to leave,” he says when he sees me looking. He moves to the edge of the bed and pulls on his shoes, then buttons up his shirt as he stands.
“Time to go.”
“I… I have to get something,” I say, then dash from the room before he can object. The door to the small cellar beneath the kitchen resists when I tug at it, but the hinges don’t creak when I finally get it open. It’s a short flight of stairs to the tiny space, and I bound down in a couple of huge leaps.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Mateo’s voice is harsh from the doorway.
“One second!” I say anxiously, fumbling along the dusty shelves until I find what I’m looking for. The chest rests just where I left it, coated in a decade’s worth of grime. But it’s safe. I tuck it under one arm and then run back up the stairs to where Mateo’s waiting.
“What is that?” he asks. I don’t answer. There isn’t time to explain that there are ghosts in this box that I need to face. And the moment to face them is dawning. I grab the bag of clothes I just packed and bolt for the front door. I keep expecting another wave of gunfire, and my shoulders twitch in anticipation of feeling the impact of lead in my back.
“Let’s go!” I half-shout, and he huffs out a breath and then follows me. We leave the bungalow without a backward glance. I’m sure that Tony from the agency is going to have a million questions when I speak to him. But right now, all I can think of is getting out of here.
“We’ll take my car,” says Mateo as I start heading toward the old pickup. There’s a navy-blue BMW parked across the street, and I realize he must have left it there last night when he arrived. I’d been so buried in my own misery that I hadn’t even noticed him pulling up there. He was right. I’m a sitting duck out here. I’ve given no real thought to my escape plans.
I’m such a fucking fool.
Mateo reaches for a key in his back pocket, and a press of a button unlocks the car. He hauls open the passenger door for me in a strangely unexpected act of chivalry. It would charm me if I didn’t wish we’d just leaped straight into the car and sped off. Until I realize he’s using the moment to make sure that the back of the car is unoccupied. Someone might have been waiting in the back seat, and I wouldn’t even have thought about it.
Thank God he came when he did.
I hate to admit it, but I really need him.
As we pull out onto the road, maneuvering through a trickle of early morning traffic, I glance over at his face. The lines are grim, a muscle in his jaw twitching occasionally.
How the hell does he know about Mark?
Because I have no doubt that the name means something to him. His expression had turned into something ugly and dangerous when he’d said it. Although even still, there’s nothing about this man that scares me the way that Mark does. Even though I’d had little trouble evading that bastard’s clutches, and I know that Mateo could overpower me with one hand tied behind his back, I still don’t fear him. In fact, perversely, looking at him now has my thighs clenching tightly.
It's adrenaline, you fool,I chastise myself.
Although the sex last night was off the charts. Hell, it was even better this morning, if that could be possible.
“Where are we going?” I ask as we reach the outer limits of Greenport, and the silence has grown too heavy to bear any longer.
“New York City,” he responds without explanation. I wait for him to go on, but he doesn’t.
“What are we doing there?” I ask when I realize he’s not going to elaborate.
“What’s in the box?” he asks, still not answering me.
“Nothing,” I say, straightening my shoulders and staring at the road ahead. Two can play at this damn game. I sense him look over at me, but I don’t return the gesture. We travel in silence for several more minutes.
“It was my brother’s,” I say softly when I feel the fire seeping out of me. He glances at me again.
