Missing In The Glades. Lena Diaz

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СКАЧАТЬ boots crunched on the dirt-and-gravel road. She swung her rifle, following his progress.

      “Stop right there,” she ordered.

      He continued as if he didn’t think she’d really shoot.

      Would she? Not normally. But desperate times...

      She brought the rifle up to her shoulder and centered a bead on his chest.

      He stopped about ten feet away, his eyes narrowing. “How about pointing that thing somewhere else before one of us gets hurt.”

      “It’s pointed right where I want it. I’m going to start counting. If you don’t turn around and get back in your car by the time I reach five—”

      He charged forward.

      She was so surprised, she froze. He was almost on top of her before she swung the rifle a bit to the left and pulled the trigger, hoping to scare him into stopping.

      Bam! The rifle cracked, barely missing him, just as she’d planned. But instead of stopping, he lunged forward and wrenched the gun out of her hands. He tossed it away and glared down at her, his dark eyes smoldering with fury.

      “Give me one reason not to call the police to arrest you for shooting at me. Again,” he demanded.

      She craned her neck back to meet his gaze. “Because your cell phone probably won’t work out here anyway?”

      His eyes narrowed to a dangerous slit.

      “Okay, okay.” She held her hands up in a placating gesture. “Don’t get so worked up. I wasn’t shooting at you. I missed on purpose.”

      The skin across his jaw whitened beneath his tan. Obviously the man had no sense of humor and took things far too seriously.

      “You’re one of those ill-tempered Aries, aren’t you?” she accused.

      “Sagittarius,” he snapped. “And just how is that relevant to you shooting at me?”

      His declaration that he was a Sagittarius surprised some of the sting out of his insult that she’d ever miss something she aimed at. She automatically reached for the chain around her neck, but stopped before pulling it out. “No reason. None at all.” She smoothed her hands down her skirts and tried to gauge his mood.

      He took another step toward her, bringing them so close she could feel the delicious heat from his body. But her attraction to him was dwarfed by the formidable anger evident in every line in his body. He was as tense as a wound-up spring, ready to snap. And she was, unfortunately, the object of that anger.

      If he were anyone else, she’d sweep his legs out from under him and go for her knife hidden in one of the many secret pockets in her skirt. But she realized two things at once. First, he didn’t seem like the kind of man to fall for the same trick twice. And second, if she didn’t hightail it out of here, right now, she might be in real trouble.

      As if sensing she was about to flee, he grabbed for her. She ducked beneath his arms, taking advantage of their difference in height. She ran as if a whole nest of hungry gators was after her.

      He shouted some impressively colorful phrases and took off in pursuit, his boots pounding against the hard ground, his long strides rapidly eating up the distance between them. But she figured she had the advantage. He might be spitting mad, but she firmly believed her very survival was at stake, which made her feet fairly fly.

      There was only one place of refuge with him so close: his car. She skidded around the open driver’s door and jumped inside. She slammed it shut and punched the electric lock just as he reached her and yanked on the handle.

      He leaned down, silently promising retribution as he glared at her through the window.

      “Open. The. Door.” His deep voice vibrated with anger, pounding through her skin like a hammer against a nail.

      She shook her head, her long hair flying around her face. “Not a good idea.”

      “Now.”

      Did he think making his voice sound as if he wanted to tear her apart with his bare hands would make her more inclined to remove the only barrier between them? That was the problem with a Sagittarius—too unwilling and impatient to slow down and look beneath the surface to all the subtleties of a situation before jumping into action. Then again, sex with a Sagittarius lover, especially with a Libra—like her—could be explosive and make that overbearing nature superhot.

      Counting on the fated attraction between their astrological signs to help her out, she aimed her most seductive smile at him.

      If anything, his glare got worse. Oh, dear.

      “Open the door, Miss Star.”

      “Not until you calm down.” She added a contrite smile this time. But since being contrite wasn’t in her nature, she wasn’t sure she’d succeeded.

      He stared at her for a good long while, as if he was considering all the different ways he could torture her before he killed her. Then he shoved his right hand into his jeans pocket. When he pulled his hand out, he dangled something in the air for her to see.

       Keys.

      Shoot. She hadn’t even thought about starting the car or she’d have realized the keys weren’t in the ignition. She tightened her fingers on the steering wheel, desperately considering her options. Jake Young didn’t know her connection to Calvin or he’d have used her legal name instead of “Star.” Which meant, he probably wasn’t the man Calvin had called her about when he’d taken that disastrous, ill-fated trip down Alligator Alley on his way to Mystic Glades.

      But if Jake wasn’t someone from her and Calvin’s past trying to find them, who was he working for? Had Calvin gotten into “new” trouble in Naples? Was that why someone was after him this time? It certainly was preferable to the alternative, and might mean that Jake wasn’t a threat to her. Well, except for the part where he wanted to find Calvin, and she wasn’t about to help him do that. And the part where she’d shot a gun around him several times now, and the stubborn man refused to understand she wasn’t shooting at him.

      Sunlight flashed off the keys in Jake’s hand as he shook them out, making them jangle as if he were a prison guard about to take an inmate out for his last walk before his execution. Or hers. His lips curved in a feral smile. He pointed to the small black rectangle on his key chain—an electronic key fob.

      Faye’s breath hitched in her chest.

      Jake poised his thumb over the unlock button.

      She poised her finger over the lock button on the inside of the door.

      They faced off like two duelers at dawn, trigger fingers cocked and loaded, each waiting for the other to flinch.

      Click. The door unlocked.

      Click. Faye locked it again just as he grabbed the door handle.

       Click.

       Click.

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