He shoved her half under the bed and moved into a crouch.
She tried to clutch him, to keep him safe, but he dislodged her hold. Moving silently, he crab-walked to the end of the bed and took a deep breath. Then he jumped.
Nothing. No sound.
“He’s gone. Get up and move. Now.” Heath’s voice held a sharp command.
She reacted instantly and hustled up, grabbing the laptop bag. Heath already had her suitcase in his hand and was heading for the open doorway. He more than filled it with sheer male size. She stopped. “Wait a minute. The police are coming.”
The look he gave her dried the spit in her mouth.
His chin lowered, and his eyes sizzled green through the goldish brown. “Move now, Anya. Now.”
She launched into motion, her body moving before her brain could catch up. At the door, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the snowy day, keeping his body in front of hers. He looked around and then started jogging for his SUV. She had no choice but to keep up. Within seconds, they were in the car and speeding out of the hotel parking lot.
The sirens increased in volume, and Anya turned around to see police cars skidding into the parking lot. “Why didn’t we wait for them?” she breathed, her heart pounding sharply against her rib cage. The day fuzzed. Her head ached. She started gasping for breath.
A large but gentle hand grasped her nape and pressed her face down to her thighs. “Deep breaths. You’re going into a panic attack. Shut your eyes and take deep breaths,” Heath said, turning the vehicle.
She followed his orders to keep from passing out. “I . . . can’t . . . breathe . . .” She gasped.
“You can.” He rubbed circles between her shoulder blades. “Shut your eyes.” His voice was low and soothing.
She shut her eyes and concentrated on his warm palm with the scar.
“Good. Breathe out and then in evenly. Don’t worry about filling your lungs. Just breathe a little.”
She followed his advice, and soon the buzzing in her head subsided. Slowly, she lifted her head to see houses and snowy trees flying by outside. “Oh my God. Slow down.”
He sped through the streets, one hand on the steering wheel, easily controlling the vehicle on the icy roads. “I will in a minute. You’re strong enough to put on your seat belt.”
She eyed the door handle, every instinct in her body yelling at her to run, and now.
“Don’t even think about it,” he said, taking a corner at a terrifying speed.
She turned and eyed him, her breathing quickening again. “Who are you?” she blurted out, her voice hoarse.
He cut her a look. “Somebody you’re gonna want to obey for the next hour or so. After that, I’ll make sure you’re free to go wherever you want.”
Obey? Did he just sayobey? He’d just gotten in a brutal fight and then fled from the police. Why would he avoid the cops? Fury filled her. Who was he to order her to do anything? She opened her mouth to argue.
“Now, Anya.”
Her nostrils flared, and emotions rioted through her. One might be fear. Another one was certainly anger. “Listen—”
“If I have to pull over to secure your belt, you’re not going to like me very much.” He pierced her with a hard look.
“I don’t like you at all right now,” she spat, pressing back against the seat. The world sped by too quickly outside for her to escape, even if she could get the door open before he stopped her, which she doubted at the moment. The smart thing was to put on the belt in case he crashed, but the wordobeysat like a hard lump of rock in her stomach. Her fingers inched toward the door handle.
“Damn it.” He hit the brakes and went into a skid, spinning the SUV in a full circle. The world swirled by in a nauseating blur. She shut her eyes and held on to the dash, trying not to scream.
He swung them around almost easily and stopped in a small parking lot of a suburban park.
Silence fell fast and hard.
She gingerly opened her eyes to see snow falling onto the windshield. Her mouth gaped and she turned to face him. He was a brutal fighter. She should be scared of him. Yet all she felt was completely overwhelmed and hugely defiant. What was up with that?
He studied her, no expression on his rugged face. “You have me between a rock and a hard place here, darlin’,” he drawled.
