Seduced By The Enemy. Jamie Denton

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Her eyes darted to the steering wheel, then back to the rearview mirror. “Forget it, Peyton.” The silky tone of his voice stirred memories she couldn’t afford to think about now.

      How he could see so clearly when she could barely make out the shape of his head was beyond her.

      “I disconnected the horn.” He added a little more pressure with the weapon. “Hands, sweetheart. Steering wheel.” He nudged again. “Now.”

      Sudden anger reared up inside her, white-hot and fiery, shoving aside her earlier fear and uncertainty. She did as he ordered, then tried to twist her head free of his grasp. A useless endeavor. He held her head firmly against the headrest and what she was certain was the nose of a pistol. Frustration nipped at her when she couldn’t even open her mouth to bite his hand.

      “Take it easy, sweetheart. I’m not here to hurt you, but to save you.”

      Save me? From whom? she wanted to rail at him. Or what?

      “This car has automatic locks, right?” he asked her, instead of answering the question she couldn’t voice.

      She nodded her head as much as his tight hold would allow.

      “We’re gonna do this slow and easy,” he repeated. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to, if it’ll keep you safe. Do you understand that, Peyton?”

      He waited, so she nodded again.

      “Good. I’ll explain everything later, but right now, I want you to reach over and engage the locks.”

      None of what he was telling her made sense. Keep her safe? As far as she could tell, he posed the only danger. Didn’t he realize that after what he’d done, he could end up being shot on sight? He was a wanted man, for crying out loud.

      Once she hit the button and the locks clicked, he finally removed the pressure from the weapon he held on her. She heard the rustle of fabric and assumed he’d stuffed the gun into his pocket.

      Breathing suddenly became a whole lot easier.

      “I’m going to remove my hand. Are you going to scream?”

      She shook her head. No one would hear her, anyway. She seriously doubted the aging guard could hear her if he was standing directly in front of her. Still, she had to do something. Was she really supposed to believe she was the one in danger, when it was his face on a wanted poster?

      With his hand still clamped over her mouth, he reached over and snagged her purse off the seat, dropping it on the floorboard beside him.

      “I’m going to remove my hand. Scream, and who knows what might happen. I’m feeling a little edgy right now, so I wouldn’t make any fast moves if I were you. You understand me, sweetheart?”

      At her nod, he added, “Okay. Ease over to the passenger seat.”

      As slowly as he’d ordered her to follow his instructions, he removed his hand. She sucked a large gulp of air into her lungs. “What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped at him, ignoring his demands. “Why are you here?”

      “Now that’s a hell of a greeting for someone you haven’t seen in three years,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Move over.”

      Remaining behind the wheel, she shifted in the seat so she could get a good look at him. Shock coursed through her at the sight. Although vibrantly alive, and way too virile for her not to notice, he’d aged. A lot more than three years would warrant if he hadn’t been hiding from the authorities, and doing only God knew what to stay alive and hidden. Thanks to the lights on the dash, she could just make out haggard lines of fatigue bracketing his eyes and the slight gray sprinkled along his temples. He was only two years older than her thirty-one years, but he looked so much older, and tired, as if he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in weeks, maybe even months.

      Three years, her conscience reminded her. Three long, no doubt hellish, years.

      Against her better judgment, compassion nipped at her. She desperately wanted to feel nothing toward him, but deep down she knew she’d have an easier time asking for the moon to be personally delivered to her doorstep with a pretty pink ribbon wrapped around it. Jared had been such an important part of her life. He’d been her life, or so she’d thought once upon a time. Despite her need to remain detached, the trace of fear she detected in his gaze gave her heart a sharp tug. The Jared she’d known, the Jared she’d once loved with all her heart, had never been afraid of anything. That his eyes held even a hint of that emotion now worried her, even more so than the determination she sensed there, as well.

      “You’re a fugitive, Jared,” she said, lowering her voice. “As an officer of the court, it’s my duty to—”

      “Save me your legal duty bullshit, Peyton,” he said with an unmistakable hardness in his tone. “I’ve heard it before. Remember? Now move it over like I told you to, real slow.”

      She had to find a way to get through to him. Certainly he realized the danger of even being in the D.C. area. If he was found, they’d kill him. She knew that. She’d been involved with Jared long enough to know feds didn’t take too kindly to their own going south, much less killing a fellow agent in the line of duty.

      “They’re looking for you, Jared. They’re always looking for you.”

      “Tell me something new,” he said impatiently. “Now move it.”

      She twisted around and acted before she could think about the possible consequences. She slammed the car into reverse and stepped hard on the gas. The car shot backward, tires squealing on the smooth concrete. Jared swore vividly and scrambled to keep upright. She jerked the car to a hard stop, but before she could shift into Drive, he reached over the seat and killed the engine. As he tried to remove the keys, she fought him, tugging unsuccessfully on his hands, pulling on the sleeve of his lightweight jacket. He yanked the keys from the ignition and tossed them on the floor at her feet. She knew then the battle was lost.

      Not ready to give up the fight completely, she made one last-ditch effort and reached for the door, opened it, but he swore again and grabbed a handful of her hair. The butterfly clip holding it in place flew to God knew where an instant before her feet hit the pavement. Dammit!

      For a few moments, the only sound inside the car was their ragged breathing. In the distance, she could hear the sounds of the D.C. traffic. “That’s the wrong way, sweetheart,” he said, his mouth dangerously close to her ear. His warm breath fanned her flushed skin and sent a shiver traveling down her spine. “Close the door, Peyton.”

      Temporarily out of viable escape options, she reluctantly did as he ordered. She tried to pull away from him, away from that mouth close enough to brush against her skin, but he held on tight.

      “Look, if it’s the car you want,” she said, struggling to calm herself, “just let me get my briefcase and you can have it.”

      “So you can run to the nearest phone and report it stolen? Not a chance, sweetheart.”

      “Stop calling me that,” she told him. She was no longer his sweetheart, babe or any of the other silly endearments he’d used during their affair. “What do you want?”

      “Dammit, I’m trying to protect you, Peyton.”

СКАЧАТЬ