They managed to get through the rest of the store without mishap, and Rowan paid with her debit card.Between her job and her dad’s Social Security and pension, they were both supported and could even save a little, which meant that maybe theycouldafford a new car.Tuna was an old trooper, but Rowan was getting tired of the frequent breakdowns.A hundred and sixty thousand miles was a good enough lifespan for a car, anyway, but Tuna had been her mother’s.
The thought of Mom sent a spear through Rowan’s heart.Outwardly, she was holding her father’s elbow as a pimpled young clerk pushed their cart out to the car for them.She made small talk, kissing her father’s cheek and patting his arm after she unlocked his door.Inside, she was thinking of how Mom had just fallen over, tumbled to the ground between one word and the next, dead of a massive stroke.It had been painless, Rowan supposed.But still, the thought of her mother made Rowan’s chest ache and her eyes fill with tears.
Why didn’t I know, if I know all these other useless things?The thoughtstill tortured her.If she could help her patients, why hadn’t she been able to help her mother?
She helped the clerk load the paper bags into the trunk and thanked him, and tried to ignore the feverish worry cascading out of the boy.
Fucking Dee stiffed me for a dime, got to get the money, how’m I gonna get the money?—
The blast of thought caught her off-guard, and she leaned against Tuna’s battered silver side for a moment, taking a deep breath.Dad slammed his door and locked it, so she had to hurry.It was cold and she wanted the?—
“Come with me, miss,” a man said, his hand closing around her elbow.Her head began to pound, horrible twisting needles pushing through her temples.
She was so stunned by the pain that he had dragged her a whole three steps away from the car before she started to struggle.
CHAPTEREIGHT
Christ,they must really be desperate to try that.
Del had ditched the bike in a convenient streetside space and entered the supermarket parking lot on foot, his cheeks and eyes stinging from riding without a helmet.His hair was probably a mess.None of that mattered.The only thing that mattered was that a tall, balding Sig had grabbed Rowan Price’s arm and was dragging her toward a low black van with two antennae, the standard-issue Sigma workhorse vehicle.This was high-risk, even for them.
How many of them in there?His brain started clicking over alternatives.
The most efficient alternative—putting a bullet in the Sig’s head—was immediately discarded.Too noisy, too messy, and above all, it would frighten her.Escalating this to a firefight would possibly involve the civilian authorities, something neither the Sig nor Delgado wanted.Waiting and watching to mark where the Sigs took her would give him valuable information, but it wasn’t an option.The thought of her being bundled into that van was suddenly unbearable.That left calling down the civilian authorities—already a no-no—and injecting himself into the situation as a wildcard, which was what he was planning to do.
His cell phone buzzed.Delgado ignored it.
“Letgoof me!”Rowan’s voice was clearly audible, and clearly panicked.The parking lot was oddly deserted, just a scattering of parked cars.Of course, it was late on a weekday morning, and not many people did their shopping in this time frame, which was probably why she’d chosen to come now.She could get through the store quickly and not tire out dear old dad.“Hey!Stop it!Leggo?—”
Blonde hair tumbled around her face.She wore jeans, a camel coat, and a white dress shirt.Delgado’s stride lengthened into a run.He marked one Sig, but the van was running, so there had to be at least one more.Unless the Sig was planning on getting her into the van, downing her, and then driving away.
Just one dragging her.Could he be alone?What do you think, God, am I lucky today?It’s against regs for a Sig to go out alone.
The buzzing in his breast pocket stopped.Good,he thought, before the switch flipped inside his head and he started operating purely on cold, trained reflex.
He reached them just as Rowan inhaled to scream and her father opened up the passenger door of the old battered Volvo.The Sig hadn’t gotten her more than ten steps away from her car and had his other hand in his pocket, probably searching for a hypo.The black van was parked across the aisle, lights off but engine running.Was someone else in there?He needed to know, but he had no way to check quickly.He couldscan,but that would take too much time and distract him.
“Hey,” Rowan yelled.“Help!Help!”
Hang in there, angel.Help’s on the way.“Hey!”he shouted, his voice cracking through the chill air.“Hey, what’re you doing?Hey!”
The Sig—balding, gray-black trench coat, big, bulbous blue eyes and red cheeks—literally jumped, as if someone had smacked him.The guilty start gave Rowan the chance to thrash her arm out of his grasp.She stumbled back and Delgado, without thinking about it, caught her arm as he drew level with them.One quick movement and the Sig stumbled, his knee giving under the force of Delgado’s kick.Rowan, staring up at Delgado, gasped.
This close, she wasn’t just pretty.
She was stunning.
Her eyes, clear green, had a darker ring around the iris.Her pupils, dilated with fear, made them unnaturally dark.There were high fever-spot blotches of color on her flawless cheeks, and her pale hair tangled over her forehead, catching the winter sunlight and throwing it back with a vengeance.
Delgado didn’t have time to look.He pulled her away from the Sig, who was limping back for the van.“Are you okay?”he asked pitching his voice with just the right note of worry.I’m a concerned citizen.I just saw a guy trying to drag a woman off.I’m just a normal guy doing a good deed.“Hey, what was that?What’s going on?Are you all right?”His other hand curled around the Glock in its hidden holster.If the Sigs made any trouble he would have to escalate the situation.His weight shifted, ready to shove her down into cover if necessary.
The Sig made it to the van, bundled in, and the engine roared.Delgado pulled her back as the van screeched by, almost tearing off a few bumpers.He noted the plate number out of habit, though it wouldn’t help.He watched as the van leaned around the corner and rocketed out into the street, cutting off a cab and a maroon minivan.Jesus Christ, I’m lucky.They could have taken both of us.Good thing they don’t know who I am.He looked down at her.
She only reached his collarbone and was staring after the black van.Her face was printed with a priceless mixture of shock, anger, and dazed incomprehension.“Are you all right?”he repeated, hearing the genuine concern in his voice.Oh, shit,I’m actually emotionally involved with this.Christ, what’s happening to me?
His pulse pounded, and his breath came in short gasps.He felt like he’d just run a marathon.It wasn’t combat—he was in good shape.It washer.The thought of her dragged into that van and pumped full of sedation to keep her quiet until they could get her to an installation and start to break her made his heart feel like it was trying to break out through his ribs and do a cancan.
“I—I think so,” she answered, in a stunned, breathless voice.“What thehell?—”
