She swallowed audibly. “You’re already driving fast.”
Yeah, he was. He angled to the right.
“What do you think they’re waiting for?” She whispered, for some reason.
“Fewer witnesses.” His instincts were humming, and he trusted them. “Or maybe they’re hoping to follow us home?” This sucked. He had to be careful with Dana in the car, damn it. “Hold on.”
She reached for the dash.
He took the exit at the last second, barreling down the road and making a fast right.
Horns honked behind him, and the car swerved across three lanes to follow him. “Thought so,” he said grimly, reaching for the gun. “When I tell you to duck, you do it.”
Gulping, she nodded, her eyes wide.
He punched the gas and sped through a quiet, rundown commercial office area, yanking the wheel and zipping around a darkened dental office to the parking area in the back. “Get in the driver’s seat, get down, and get out of here if I yell.” He opened the door, jumped out, and ran toward the side of the building, where the car had just turned in.
Lifting his hand, he squeezed off three rapid shots, continuing to walk forward. The first bullet hit the windshield above the driver’s head, shattering the glass. The next one hit the engine block, and the third the right front tire. The car veered to the left and drove over bushes and a nicely manicured lawn to smash into the glass front door. Its horn blared continuously.
A building alarm instantly blasted through the rain.
Wolfe ran to the car and ripped open the passenger-side door, yanking a bleeding man out and throwing him on the ground. He leaned in to find the driver slumped unconscious over the steering wheel.
He flipped the guy on the ground over and set a knee in his chest and a gun in his face, searching him for weapons and finding a high-end Ruger SR, which he slid into his waistband with his free hand. “Who are you?”
The guy was about thirty with dark hair and tattoos down the side of his face. “Screw you.”
Wolfe punched him in the nose, and cartilage crunched beneath his knuckles. “Try again.”
Blood spurted from the guy’s face and he put a hand over the wound, tears filling his eyes. “Fine. You have no idea who you’ve messed with. I’m C-Spike from the Seventh Street Warriors.”
Great. A gang was after him. “What do you want with me?” He pressed the gun close to the guy’s no-doubt aching and broken nose.
The guy turned slightly to see his buddy still passed out in the car.
“You can tell. He can’t hear you, and if you don’t tell me, I’m going to kill you.” Wolfe meant every word.
C-Spike spit out blood. “It’s a contract on the blonde. We were told she’d be at the medical examiner’s tonight or tomorrow morning. When she showed, we were to follow her and take her out somewhere discreet.”
Ice-cold fury settled into Wolfe. “Who hired you?”
“Don’t know. I swear. The order came from high up.” His words were slurred through the blood as rain pelted them without cooling off the night in the slightest. “I don’t even know her name.”
“Make sure you never do.” Wolfe hit him in the temple, knocking him out.
Sirens sounded down the road. He stood and ran to his truck, motioning Dana back to her seat. “Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Well after midnight, Dana fluffed her hair with a towel after a long shower and then padded into Wolfe’s bedroom dressed in shorts and a cami. The splattering of rain echoed all around, tinging against the wide skylight in the master bathroom. Even though it had been raining for hours, the air still hung heavy around them. The whir of the AC came on, and she lifted her head, breathing deep. The image of Wolfe calmly grabbing his gun and striding into the storm to confront those bad guys wouldn’t leave her mind.
When she was with Wolfe, she always felt safe. Protected.
Roscoe looked up from the foot of the bed, where he was not supposed to be. He gave her a look, snuggled his nose into his paws, and started snoring again.
She left the bedroom to find Wolfe on the sofa, his bare feet crossed at the ankles on the coffee table. He’d changed into gray basketball shorts and a black tank top, and his hair was still wet from the rain. A case file lay open across his chest, and his head was back with his eyes closed.
So this was how he slept.
