Smokescreen. Jodie Bailey

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      With Ashley breathing against his neck and his heart pounding from the stress of the moment, he could hardly hear if their visitors were lurking. “That ten feet of open grass bugs me.” Even his whisper echoed in the stillness.

      “No choice but to go for it.”

      If he closed his eyes Ethan could fool himself into believing they were still partners, still shared the easy rhythm that let them get the job done effortlessly. But they weren’t and likely never would be again.

      Ethan tried one more time to listen for footsteps, voices—anything. Only the distant sounds of cars on the main road drifted to them. “Okay.” He slipped his hand behind him and found hers. He wanted her close in case anything happened. No matter what, unlike the last time, he would know he’d done all he could to protect her. “Let’s go.”

      With a quick prayer Ethan plunged out of their hiding place, Ashley keeping pace behind. The damp grass, not yet revived after the long winter, crushed beneath their feet, leaving a dim trail to their destination. They’d have to move fast once they hit the ditch. He leaped in feetfirst, Ashley a millisecond behind him.

      “You hear that?” The shout came muffled from above, probably from the balcony they’d recently vacated.

      They had time, but not much. Propelling her by her biceps, he urged her forward. “Run.”

      They slipped and slid along the ditch, feet skittering on the thin layer of mud in the bottom, Ethan’s ears tuned for the sounds that would let him know their pursuers had found their footprints.

       Please, God. Hide us a little bit longer.

      Behind him, Ashley muttered softly and he wondered if she, too, was petitioning for cover.

      They rounded the bend in the ditch and Ethan scanned for a spot gentle enough for them to climb. “There.”

      As he said it, a shout echoed across the night. They had a few more seconds before they were found. Jerking Ashley in front of him, he hefted her up the bank and scrambled up behind her, coming out just inches from the bumper of his truck.

      Ashley beat him inside.

      Shutting the door behind him, Ethan twisted the key in the ignition and, headlights off, drove as fast as he dared, praying the men hadn’t caught up in time to tail them. They were on the main road and two turns away before the bands around his chest relaxed. “They didn’t follow us.”

      Ashley just nodded, arms crossed, fingers digging into her biceps. Her breaths came rapidly, shallow and hard.

      He knew better than to touch her. She was on the edge of falling apart. “Talk to me, Ash.”

      “Pull over.”

      Ethan checked the rearview mirror, but no headlights flashed. Still, it was ludicrous to stop now. “I can’t. They’re bound to have figured out—”

      “Pull over. Find a place.” Her voice was barely audible over her need for air. “Now.”

      Ethan kneaded the steering wheel, tension radiating up his arms and into his shoulders. He couldn’t. It would be suicide, but Ashley was now gripping the headrest as though it was going to keep her from spinning off of the planet.

      She turned her head to him, eyes pleading behind a sheen of tears. “Please, Ethan.”

      His foot eased off the gas. Okay, he’d find a place to pull over.

      Even if it killed them.

      * * *

      She could die right now. It would be just fine with her. The fact death was a real possibility didn’t matter. In the throes of uncontrollable emotion, the shame burning her gut eclipsed the fear of death.

      Her body rebelled, refusing to believe there was nothing to fear because, this time, there was definitely something to be afraid of. And the reality was as bad as any of her nightmares.

      Ashley had felt it the instant Ethan shifted the truck into gear, the moment she knew they were relatively safe and making a getaway. The fog she’d walked in for the past hour blew away, chased by hot fear. The cold sweat... The tight muscles trying to claw out of her skin... This was a full-blown panic attack the likes of which she hadn’t experienced in more than three years. One the rapidly shrinking rational part of her brain could not believe she was about to have in front of Ethan Kincaid.

      The minute he pulled around to the back of a darkened gas station, Ashley yanked the door handle, slid from the truck, leaned against the cold metal and locked her hands against her knees. The damp night air filled her lungs and eased her body as she fought nausea, praying Ethan would stay in the truck and pretend everything was A-okay.

      No such luck. His boots scrunched the gravel and came into view. “Ash?”

      He might as well have shouted, because the whisper rained condemnation hotter than nuclear fallout. She was weak. Not strong enough. Still haunted by a weakness that defied explanation, one she should have overcome years ago.

      The same weakness that had stolen her dream and laid it at Ethan’s feet.

      His arm brushed her shoulder, but she swatted it away so hard her hand stung. The pain was enough to drag her into the present and she rooted herself in her former therapist’s advice. Be grounded in the moment. Be aware of where you are right now.

      It wasn’t helping. Right now, in the moment, she was hiding from men who wanted her dead with a man who wanted...what, exactly?

      Ethan possessed the good sense to step away and let her have some space. The warmth of him left her and gravel crunched under his feet as he paced toward the road. Let him patrol. Right now, she almost didn’t care if the bad guys did find them. At least she wouldn’t be tormented by terror anymore.

      In the moment. Okay. In this moment, no gun was aimed at her head. At least not that she was aware of.

      She swept the thought away.

      In this moment, gray mud coated the toes of her brown boots and the hem of her good jeans. Ashley focused on the dirt and the way it played on her boots, taking her mind out of the fear.

      By the time Ethan crunched back to her, the dust had cleared from her mind if not from her feet. Trembling, Ashley pulled herself upright and inhaled deeply, bracing her hands against the sides of his truck, wrung out from the aftereffects of panic.

      Ethan leaned beside her, not close enough to touch her but definitely close enough for the warmth of him to penetrate her jacket. “You okay?”

      She glanced at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead he scanned the tree line, the side of the building, trying to keep an eye out for any possible incursions. Knowing he wasn’t watching her eased the remaining tension in her shoulders. “I’m okay.” But she’d be better if she were alone. What she wouldn’t give for five minutes all by herself to knit her thoughts together.

      “So that still happens?” There was no emotion in his words, no condemnation.

      Her spine stiffened. Yes, that still happened, though not in a very long time. It was a failing she’d never been СКАЧАТЬ