Dangerous to Know (15 page)

“We're going to get on my bike and make a run for it. If something happens to me, go to the police, don't tell them anything, and call your dad the second you can. Got that?”

“Yeah.”

Dark smoke was beginning to swirl around the ceiling, creeping closer to where they huddled. The entire valence was ablaze, bits of smoldering ash floating down onto them. The paint bubbled as it gave off a burning-plastic smell.

“We're going, before he repositions.”

Mercer started toward the window. Fear flooded her, the silence intolerable. She dug her fingers into his waistband, pulling him back.

“What if there's another one on this side of the house?”

“We'd be dead. Drywall and wood don't stop a heat scope. The guy is repositioning. This is our only chance.”

“We could call the cops…”

“And they'd have a great double homicide to investigate by the time they showed up.” Mercer reached down and wrapped his hand around her forearm. “We have to help ourselves, baby. Trust me.”

He went over the windowsill first. The moment she was alone in the house, terror filled her. Every tiny sound heightened the emotion. Mercer reached back for her and his hand was the most welcome sight she'd ever seen. There was no contemplation of running from him, only pure response.

Zoe placed her hand in his and pushed her body through the open window. The stone tiles covering the roof crunched beneath her shoes. They made it to the edge and she sucked in a harsh breath as she looked down. The house had never seemed so tall when she was looking up.

Mercer made the jump with a sure motion. He didn't stand all the way up but remained crouched while scanning the surroundings. His confidence both drew her toward him and made her think of running back into her house. Indecision pulled her in both directions.

Did she trust the man she'd allowed to be her lover, or hope the local law enforcement might keep her alive?

Her leg burned, reminding her how close she'd already come to becoming a morning news flash. The fire was glowing red and she felt the heat searing her back.

Mercer looked up and waved her down. Fear tingled along her limbs but she did her best to mimic his jump. Pain ripped through her leg the moment she landed. She stumbled and ended up on her butt, trying to suck in enough air to keep from passing out.

“We've got to keep moving.”

Mercer pulled her up and she brushed her hair out of her face to see his bike.

He swung his leg over the back of it with ease and fit the key into the ignition.

“Trust me or die, Zoe.”

There was a hard certainty in his tone that sent her forward. She was torn, the idea of needing him now battling against the fresh betrayal of knowing he'd seduced her to get at her family. But she slid onto the bike behind him and wrapped her arms around him because there wasn't really a choice. Sniper or him, those were her options. Life majorly sucked.

He took off down the street the moment she was secure. In the early-morning hours, the city was quiet, almost eerily so. The wind whipped her hair about and chilled her cheeks. A fire engine had its siren on somewhere nearby as they left her neighborhood.

But what truly turned her blood cold was the way no one followed them. Greer and the other team members were nowhere to be seen.

Mercer pulled up two blocks from her house. “Put the helmet on so we don't get pulled over.”

He reached behind her and pulled two helmets off the back of the bike. The flashing lights of the emergency vehicle rounded the corner before it turned again and headed toward her dad's house.

“Aren't you going to call your boss?”

“Cell phones have location chips in them. I left mine behind,” he muttered before lowering the visor. “Now that the fire department is here to rescue your dad's bird, I know a place we can go to fall off the grid. Hang on.”

Her arms tightened around him out of instinct, which was a damn good thing because she was frozen with shock.

He cared about Harley?

Hell. That put a hole in her ideas about him being nothing but an asshole.

A big hole.

*   *   *

Mercer pulled the bike up to a residence that looked like a biker hideout. She could see a dark-colored house but only the top of the windows because the bushes were so tall. There wasn't a single welcoming thing about it. If the cops showed up with their sirens blaring and hauled some muscle-bound guy sporting multiple tattoos out of it, she wouldn't be surprised.

Mercer drove around the side and stopped. He reached over and pressed his thumb against something hidden behind a couple of inches of nondescript shrubbery. A moment later the garage door opened, but not upward. The thing slid sideways, only a quarter of the way.

Mercer guided the bike inside. He was going on memory, had to be because there wasn't any light and what lay inside the building was a dark mystery. She clung to him, his body the only solid thing in the world at that moment. The door slid shut behind them.

The lights came on the second the door was closed.

“You better have a good reason to be getting me out of a warm bed at four in the morning.”

The man was wearing only a pair of worn jeans, which showed off the perfection of his chest. Every muscle was toned and sculpted. His hair was shoulder-length and light blond. He peered at her with blue eyes, sweeping her from top to bottom and lingering on her calf.

“She might be a good reason, depending on why you've got her.” He looked back at Mercer. “Might also be a good reason to kick you off my property. I don't need heat coming down on me.”

“She's a good enough reason for me, and there will be heat,” Mercer said. He removed his helmet but didn't get off the bike. When Zoe began to lift her foot he reached back and flattened his hand against her thigh. She could feel the two men taking stock of each other, Mercer remaining on the bike while their reluctant host eyed her. With a grunt he nodded.

“Stay. I'll get the medical kit for your passenger.” The man disappeared into the dark shadows of the garage.

“Who is this guy?”

“A buddy I can trust.” Mercer didn't sound as certain as she would have liked but she got off the bike and gasped when pain went zipping up her leg the moment she tried to use it.

Mercer was on a knee next to her before she finished catching her breath. “Sit.” The word was short. Zoe obeyed without considering why she was letting him boss her around. Maybe it was the fact that she could smell her own blood, and he sounded like he knew what to do about it.

Of course, such a skill must be handy when he carried a gun around.

There was a flash of light off the blade of a pocketknife. Mercer wielded it expertly, flicking it out and slipping the tip of it beneath the ribbed cuff of her pants. A quick jerk of his wrist cut the fabric and he kept going until he reached her knee.

“It looks like we're both members of the ‘lucky' club today.”

Their host returned, a sort of beat-up-looking tackle box in one hand. “Glad to hear she isn't going to bleed all over my garage and leave me with the chore of disposing of her carcass. It's a little harder to buy bags of lye in this state. Not enough farms.”

Zoe gasped, unable to contain her horror.

“Relax, Zoe. If Vitus were serious, he'd have told me it was my job to haul away your body,” Mercer said ruefully.

“Seems fair enough. You showed up with her.”

Vitus dropped the box near Mercer and hooked his hands back into his waistband. He'd shrugged into a shirt but hadn't bothered to button it.

“I thought you were working a case.”

Mercer opened the box and lifted the top tray so it exposed all the ones beneath it. He searched out what he wanted before answering.

“She was my target,” Mercer answered.

Zoe narrowed her eyes. “Only because you're stupid enough to doubt my family.”

There was a soft snort from their host. “You pulled a real gem, Mercer. Almost makes me sorry I wasn't available. I enjoy feisty women.”

Mercer smeared something that stung like hell over the open gash in her skin. She dug her hands into the padded chair seat.

“A little warning would be nice,” she groused while a wave of pain sent her vision black for a few seconds. When she could see clearly once more, she found herself being studied by Vitus. The blue of his eyes reminded her of Saxon but the long hair seemed in direct conflict to the team leader's clean-cut look. Still, the resemblance was uncanny. It was in the shape of his jaw and cheekbones, too.

“Are you related to Saxon?” she asked out of impulse. She felt the need to prove she wasn't so intimidated she wouldn't voice what was on her mind. And that she wasn't slow on the uptake.

“Half brother. Which means I didn't inherit the stick up my ass.”

She smiled, unable to help herself. Mercer began binding her leg, which sent another dull shaft of agony through her.

“Saxon has the right goal, even if he sometimes has to dig a little to get at the truth.”

Suspicion still coated Mercer's words. Zoe looked down at him to find his dark eyes focused on her. Conflict flickered in those dark orbs, and she discovered a similar feeling twisting her gut.

Maybe tonight was a clever ploy to regain her trust.

She shivered, her emotions too tender to deal with the idea.

“She looks a little shocky. Better bring her into the house,” Vitus muttered casually, as if they weren't talking about a gunshot wound.

Mercer offered her a hand. Zoe looked at it suspiciously before placing hers in it. Maybe he was just trying to worm his way back into her confidence. If that was so, she needed to learn to play the game better than he did. Her family honor was on the line.

Vitus led them through a darkened section of the garage, but it didn't smell musty. The garage was clean, every corner and shelf. There was an entire wall of tools, Peg-Board running up the wall, and every single item was in order and shiny, a contrast with the exterior of the house.

They walked through the backyard and up to a single door that led into the house. Every window was covered by dark curtains, making the place look as inviting as a tomb.

Inside was a different matter.

The scent of coffee lingered in the kitchen, a pot of dark java resting inside a coffeemaker. No white plastic model appliance for Vitus; this one was stainless steel. The countertops were granite, and there wasn't a speck of grease or a crumb in sight, only a ceramic mug.

“You know your way around, Mercer. Tuck her into bed and come see me.”

Zoe frowned. “You have some things in common with your brother.”

Vitus turned to consider her. “Yeah, I like staying alive.” His attention lowered to her newly bandaged leg. “Something you seem to have a little challenge with at the moment.” He winked at her. “Don't worry, darlin', you've come to the right man.”

Mercer slid an arm around her waist, moving her forward while his buddy offered her a grin that was sexy as hell.

“She came in with me.”

Vitus shrugged. “I can handle sharing.” His lips thinned, taking on a sexual look that made her mouth go dry. “I wonder if she can.”

“Don't,” Mercer snapped.

Vitus grinned, looking completely unrepentant. If anything, the man appeared to be offering her a dare. Mercer steered her away and through an open bedroom door.

“He's testing you. Trying to see how well you deal with stress.”

“Lovely,” she muttered, trying to decide why Mercer was so full of informative comments all of a sudden. Suspicion wrapped around her like a blanket while she watched him take care of her personal comfort.

Mercer pulled a drawer open and rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a pair of sweatpants. “It looked to me like you were mesmerized by the idea of a ménage à trois.”

She grabbed the pants from him. “And you sound kind of jealous for someone who keeps calling me a target.”

She went into a small bathroom and shut the door on him. When she emerged with the sweatpants on, Mercer was leaning against the iron footrail of the double bed that dominated the room.

“Someone's got you marked as a target, Zoe. I'm your best bet for avoiding the toe tags they've got picked out for us.”

“You inserted yourself into this, so don't think I'm going to feel sorry for you.”

He shrugged. “I guess if you'd rather be dead and headed for a cold-case file because the local cops have no clue why someone would want to shut you up, fine by me. Go ahead and keep nursing that injured pride because I got into your bed.” He pegged her with a hard stare. “It wasn't one-sided, baby. Not even close.”

He was smug.

But right.

She leaned against the wall. “I appreciate your help tonight.” She had to force each word out. Acceptance flickered in his eyes briefly.

“There're some painkillers on the bedside table.” A glass of water was waiting for her, too.

“You're the one who keeps calling me a target. How the hell do you expect that to make me feel?” She crossed in front of him, hating how much effort it took.

His hand snaked out and captured her wrist. “Maybe I'm having trouble deciding which side you're on, Zoe. Are you really so clean, or has your father taught you more than your innocent eyes tell me?”

He bent her arm at just the right angle to keep her close.

Too close for her comfort, because it allowed her to feel his warmth. His scent teased her senses, unleashing a need to lean on him, actually reach up and kiss him. Part of her really wanted to take shelter in his embrace, just for a bit anyway.

“Damn it, Zoe.” He turned her around and gave her a push that landed her on her butt on the bed. It bounced slightly but didn't give so much as a faint creak. “We're in deep now.”

“
We're
? When did this become a
we
thing?” She slapped his hand away from her. “I thought you just introduced me as your target. Why don't you go call your boss and let him know where I am? You can ride off scot-free the moment you do that.”