Monroe, Melody S. - Verdict (Siren Publishing Classic) (13 page)

“Yes, but I’m not you.”

“You are so damn stubborn.”

“It’s what makes me a good agent.”

He sat up straighter, sucked in a large breath through clenched teeth, and placed a hand over his lower chest. He must have broken a rib. They didn’t need this.

“Did you get the license plate of the red truck?” he asked.

Her mouthed dropped. “You’re kidding, right? The whole thing happened in seconds. My heart was pounding so fast, I was lucky to remember to brace myself.”

He removed the sweater, turned it around and dabbed his forehead. “You got one of those large bandages in your suitcase I could have?”

“Sure.” Thankful she was able to help, she pulled the keys from the ignition to unlock the trunk.

As she stepped out onto the grass, her leg buckled. A king-sized ache squeezed her knee, and she dropped to the ground. Stone’s door rattled, but apparently he couldn’t open it. “Susan?”

“I’m okay. I’m okay. Don’t get out.”

With effort, she hauled herself up and slowly made her way to the trunk, putting most of her weight on her right leg. After getting the key into the lock to pop the trunk, she opened her suitcase and got out her toiletry kit with the bandages.

The roar of a lone car sounded above her. Heart pounding, she waved, but given the angle of the road from the ditch, she knew her attempt would be futile. She’d try to get up the hill as soon as she took care of Stone.

She came over to the driver’s side and yanked the handle. Crap. The impact had dented the side, preventing her from opening the door. “I need to go to the other side. Hold on.”

Once she slid in her side, she opened the package and handed him one. He tossed her bloody sweater on the floor behind him, looked in the rearview mirror, aimed, and pressed the large Band-Aid to his head. “Good as new.” He smiled, but his lips appeared unsteady.

She didn’t like the look of his pasty skin. “How are we going to get out of here?”

“Let me see if I can drive this dented heap. We don’t need to open my door.”

“Do you have a headache?”

His brow rose. “What do you think?”

“Then I should drive.”

“No.”

Stone’s cell phone had fallen out of his pocket and was on the seat. She picked it up. “I’m calling 9-1-1.”

He placed his hand on hers. “We can’t afford the delay, nor can we afford to let whoever did this to us learn we lived through the crash.”

He did have a point. That horrible person could be monitoring his cell. Somehow the killer had found them, most likely via Stone’s cell.

“I’m not letting you drive. You were unconscious, at least for a little bit.”

“I’m fine.”

Men. “If you start vomiting behind the wheel, we could be in big trouble.”

He scanned the horizon and blew out a large breath. “You win, counselor. I don’t have the energy to argue.” He slapped the wheel. “The rental company is going to have a fit when they see the damages. We might have a hard time renting another car from them, and our cash is limited. Cross your fingers this puppy is drivable.”

No money? “Don’t you have a credit card?” Her mind raced. “We have to get another car since he knows this one.”

“I do have a credit card, but they’re too easy to trace. Someone knows where we’ve been and where we were staying. Next time he could kill us.”

She revisited the crash and realized how things could have ended up differently. “Which begs the question, why didn’t he finish the job?” She wiped her sweaty palms on her leg.

He clamped his eyes shut. “Maybe they only wanted to scare us.”

Stone was too sharp to draw that conclusion, or had the crash disoriented him? “Do you really believe that?”

“Actually, the most logical conclusion is that someone drove by and scared him off.” He turned his head and locked gazes with her.

She wasn’t sure how much he believed. “If someone saw what happened, why didn’t they stop and help us?”

“I wish I had the answers to all of your questions, but I don’t. What I do know is we need to leave.”

“That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said.” She twisted toward him.

His jaw lowered. “Susan, you’re bleeding.”

Her pulse raced and she looked down at the large, red stain over her breast. Her stitches must have broken. “Damn.” She peeked down her top. Blood had caked around her wound. “The impact of the seat belt tore my stitches. I’ll be okay.”

“We’ll have a doctor check you out, but if you don’t want to cause people to notice us, we both better change.”

“Right.” Relieved at finally having a clear direction, she got out.

This time her leg held. She searched through both suitcases for something suitable. She retrieved a new shirt for Stone and a T-shirt and sweatshirt for herself. She still wasn’t able to wear a bra and had to cover up the best she could.

She tossed him his shirt. He had no problem getting out of his bloody clothes. Too bad she was unable to take her gaze off his rippling abs and well defined pecs. The man was an amazing specimen.

He glanced over and smiled. “What are you waiting for?”

Jerk. He knew she was at it again. While there were only trees on the other side of the car, she didn’t want to strip outside, especially since it was windy and chilly out there. She climbed in the backseat. With her back to him, she took off her shirt and reapplied a clean bandage. Once dressed, she motioned he get out so she could drive. “Let’s go find Ashley Woods.”

* * * *

During the five-hour drive to Atlanta, Susan stopped for coffee at least three times. From her pale skin and the number of times she yawned, her strength hadn’t fully returned. The added caffeine did nothing for him or his never-ending headache. He should have forced himself to stay awake since someone might have followed them, but he rationalized the busy interstate made an attack unlikely.

“Stop worrying,” she said the moment he opened his eyes.

How could she tell what he’d been thinking? “What?”

“I know you think I’m not watching who’s behind us, but I am.”

She acted as if she had ten years in law enforcement. “We can’t be too careful.” He sat up and studied the rearview mirror.

Susan pulled off the interstate. “We’re almost there. Are you hungry?”

He huffed out a laugh. “What do you think?”

“Guess that’s a yes.”

After they sped through another drive-through, they located Ashley Wood’s house situated a block off a main thoroughfare. No one had followed them, or so he wanted to believe.

“There’s the house. Looks clear.” He pointed to a small, cozy blue bungalow with an attached covered porch. “Park in front.” They’d made no wrong turns getting to her place, thanks to the GPS.

Susan wilted once she put the car in gear. Maybe he should have insisted they stop at a motel before coming here. As much as she claimed she was okay, she wasn’t back to normal.

“I’ll be quick,” he assured her. Guilt at pushing Susan too hard stabbed at him. “Once I’m done, we can get a room for the night and relax. I know my body could use a hot shower.”

“You aren’t the only one.”

She touched his arm, and he fought back the sensation rippling through his body. “On second thought, come with me.” He glanced around. “I’m not in a trusting mood.”

“You think I’ll bolt?”

He laughed. “No. I don’t trust the killer.”

“Oh.”

Stone got out. Having one working door sucked. He helped her and made sure Susan was steady before walking up the steps to Ashley’s house.

Richard did well picking this home. It was a far cry from the one he rented for Marcadis. Even the red and yellow pots next to the white wicker rocking chair oozed Southern charm. He rang the bell and waited.

Susan stepped closer. Their shoulders touched and his cock reacted.
Down, boy
.

“How are you going to break the news to her that her life is in immediate danger?” she asked. “Will you make up some story that this place had been compromised?”

“I’ll tell her the truth, that the FBI saw fit to send down a bodyguard, and that she needs to wait for him.”

“Good. She’s a tough girl.”

“That’ll make my job easier.”

He’d been about to knock again when screeching tires and a loud crash tore his attention from the door. A block down the street at a large intersection, a black SUV had plowed into a blue VW on the driver’s side, pushing the smaller vehicle across the road into the lamp post.

Adrenaline sped through his veins. “Stay here.”

He raced down the path to the street, grimacing at the pounding in his head and across his chest. Maybe he had broken a rib.

Before he reached the accident, the SUV backed up, turned around and drove down the street past him. The dark, tinted windows prevented him from identifying anything about the driver, and the vehicle didn’t have a license plate. Shit.

His only thought was to help the poor person inside the car. He raced to the VW, ignoring the sharp stabbing in his knee and rib cage.

Another loud crash forced him to look back toward the house. The same black SUV had rear-ended the rental’s driver’s side front bumper. What the fuck was happening? Susan stood frozen on the porch.

“Get down!” he yelled.

Susan dropped to her haunches and covered her head.

The moment the SUV took off and didn’t fire any shots, he was torn between going after the guy, helping the victim, and checking on Susan. Since she was uninjured, and the hit-and-run driver had disappeared down the street, he decided the person in the blue VW needed him more. The cops could search for the driver.

When he got to the crumpled car, the woman inside was slumped over on the seat, her eyes open, her breath short, appearing to be in shock. He patted his pants for his phone to call for help. Damn. He looked up to get Susan’s attention. She was at their car with the phone in hand. Smart girl.

He saw no reason to move the victim. The driver’s side window was gone, and he leaned in. “Help is on the way. Hold on.” Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. “Can you tell me your name?”

She blinked, giving him hope she understood. “Ash…”

His heart nearly stopped. “Are you Ashley Woods?”

Her lips pressed together, then her eyes closed. No answer. While he didn’t see any external injuries other than the contusion on her forehead, there might be massive internal injuries. From the blown pupil and her rapid breaths, the girl looked like she was hanging on by a thread.

Susan rushed over to his side. “How is she?”

He shook his head. “Unresponsive, but alive.”

“I called 9-1-1.”

“Good.”

She handed him back his cell. That one act gave him a boost. She trusted him.

They stayed by the girl’s side to make sure the maniac who’d rammed her didn’t return. When he heard the ambulance in the distance, he figured it would be smarter not to get involved with a police investigation. They still had another juror to warn. He’d call in the description of the car once they were out of sight.

“Come on. We need to get out of here,” he said.

Her brows furrowed, but thankfully she didn’t argue. He checked out the damage to the rental’s bumper. The grillwork was bent in, possibly enough to hit the radiator.

“I hope this sucker runs.”

“The bastard rammed us for no apparent reason,” she said. “Unless it’s the same person who drove the red truck, and he wanted to be sure we couldn’t come after him.”

The siren neared. No time to debate. “Come on.”

Susan hobbled to the door. “I’ll drive. You be lookout.”

Worked for him. He slipped in and kept an eye on the side view mirror.

The car turned over on the third try. “Go, but don’t make it look like we’re racing away,” he said.

She turned and leered at him. “I’m not dumb.”

That, he knew. Susan pulled away from the curb nice and slow. They’d rounded the corner when a light and siren flashed behind them. Shit. He knew the routine. “Pull over. We’ve got nothing to hide.”

She glanced at him, her lips pressed firmly together. Once she stopped, she rolled the window down half way. The dent in the car probably prevented it from moving any more.

It took the officer several minutes before he approached them. No doubt he was running the plates, although what good that would do him other to let the cop know they’d rented the car, she didn’t know.

“Let me do the talking,” Stone said.

She looked up at him through lowered lids. “I argue for a living. I should explain. After all, I’m the one on the run.”

“And I’m the one with the FBI badge.”

The officer rapped on the window. “May I see your license and registration?”

Her mouth dropped open. She didn’t have a license and shouldn’t have been driving. They were in a shitload of trouble.

Chapter Eleven