tickets, but she couldn’t take the chance that he might recognize her.
Sure enough, he stopped scribbling on his clipboard to eye her intently.
Panicked, Skyler stepped off the curb between two parked cars and darted across the four-lane street. She had nearly made it to the other side when a car sped up, nearly plowing into her. She stepped back to avoid being hit, and it braked directly in her path. Startled by the close call, it took her a second to recognize the face of the furious driver behind his dark sunglasses as he lowered the window and demanded, “What the hell are you doing out here?”
Special Agent Higgins. What were the odds of running into him so suddenly?
“Get in the car,” he said, jerking his head toward the door behind him.
She glanced at the passenger in the seat beside him, stunned to recognize Connor Donovan. Drake’s father had obviously alerted the U.S. Marshals to her whereabouts. An awful sense of doom dropped over her as her gaze slid back to Higgins’ inscrutable expression.
“No.” She backed away, and a car horn blared in her ear, making her realize she was standing on the double yellow line in the center of a busy street.
“It’s okay,” Higgins was shouting. Connor Donovan climbed out of the passenger seat.
The light had turned green and cars were whizzing past her, forcing her to run past Connor in order to reach the safety of the sidewalk.
He proved to be faster than she was.
Caught up from behind, Skyler kicked and squirmed as he carried her back to the car. Passersby regarded them like she’d lost her mind.
“It’s okay,” he kept saying. “ It’s okay, Skyler . We’re on your side. None of this was supposed to happen. You’ll be safe now.”
Chapter Six
A brisk knock at the door startled Drake awake.
He sat straight up. The silence in the motel room turned the surface of his skin cold. “Sky?” He leapt out of bed heedless of his nakedness and peered into the dark bathroom on route to the door, his panic blooming.
She was gone . The brisk knocking came again. Snatching up a towel, he girded his hips and picked up his pistol.
“Who is it?” he demanded, edging toward the door.
“Your father. Open up.”
Impossible. How had his father found him when he had no cell phone that could be traced, unless… He hauled the door open and saw that his guess was right.
Skyler stood in the hallway, dressed in clothes he’d never seen and sandwiched between Connor and a man whose attire screamed U.S. Marshal—black suit, white shirt, black sunglasses.
“What the hell?” he exclaimed, taking in Skyler’s chagrined expression.
“I’m so sorry,” she said in a small voice. “I had to leave before I got you in over your head. I ran into your father and . . . and I had to tell him where you were.”
Drake leveled a glare at the freckle-faced, square jawed man in the suit. “Let me guess,” he sneered. “You must be Skyler’s case handler.”
The deputy marshal didn’t even attempt to smile. “Special Agent Hank Higgins,” he said.
Drake rounded on his father. “Why’d you bring this loser here?”
“Higgins and I have some explaining to do,” Connor answered. “Put that gun away and step aside, son. That’s an order.”
Drake met Skyler’s pleading gaze and, with a shudder of resentment, went into the bathroom to pull on his pants.
His mind raced as the threesome let themselves inside. He shook his head. He cursed himself for not sharing his thoughts with Skyler before she fell asleep about his plan to protect her from a distance. But now it was too late. She’d run into his father who’d brought Higgins with him, even after that man’s negligence had nearly gotten Skyler killed. What was Connor thinking?
Stalking out of the bathroom still buttoning his shirt, he found all three of them waiting by the window.
“Let’s all take a seat,” Higgins suggested.
“Fine,” Drake said. Reaching for
Sure enough, he stopped scribbling on his clipboard to eye her intently.
Panicked, Skyler stepped off the curb between two parked cars and darted across the four-lane street. She had nearly made it to the other side when a car sped up, nearly plowing into her. She stepped back to avoid being hit, and it braked directly in her path. Startled by the close call, it took her a second to recognize the face of the furious driver behind his dark sunglasses as he lowered the window and demanded, “What the hell are you doing out here?”
Special Agent Higgins. What were the odds of running into him so suddenly?
“Get in the car,” he said, jerking his head toward the door behind him.
She glanced at the passenger in the seat beside him, stunned to recognize Connor Donovan. Drake’s father had obviously alerted the U.S. Marshals to her whereabouts. An awful sense of doom dropped over her as her gaze slid back to Higgins’ inscrutable expression.
“No.” She backed away, and a car horn blared in her ear, making her realize she was standing on the double yellow line in the center of a busy street.
“It’s okay,” Higgins was shouting. Connor Donovan climbed out of the passenger seat.
The light had turned green and cars were whizzing past her, forcing her to run past Connor in order to reach the safety of the sidewalk.
He proved to be faster than she was.
Caught up from behind, Skyler kicked and squirmed as he carried her back to the car. Passersby regarded them like she’d lost her mind.
“It’s okay,” he kept saying. “ It’s okay, Skyler . We’re on your side. None of this was supposed to happen. You’ll be safe now.”
Chapter Six
A brisk knock at the door startled Drake awake.
He sat straight up. The silence in the motel room turned the surface of his skin cold. “Sky?” He leapt out of bed heedless of his nakedness and peered into the dark bathroom on route to the door, his panic blooming.
She was gone . The brisk knocking came again. Snatching up a towel, he girded his hips and picked up his pistol.
“Who is it?” he demanded, edging toward the door.
“Your father. Open up.”
Impossible. How had his father found him when he had no cell phone that could be traced, unless… He hauled the door open and saw that his guess was right.
Skyler stood in the hallway, dressed in clothes he’d never seen and sandwiched between Connor and a man whose attire screamed U.S. Marshal—black suit, white shirt, black sunglasses.
“What the hell?” he exclaimed, taking in Skyler’s chagrined expression.
“I’m so sorry,” she said in a small voice. “I had to leave before I got you in over your head. I ran into your father and . . . and I had to tell him where you were.”
Drake leveled a glare at the freckle-faced, square jawed man in the suit. “Let me guess,” he sneered. “You must be Skyler’s case handler.”
The deputy marshal didn’t even attempt to smile. “Special Agent Hank Higgins,” he said.
Drake rounded on his father. “Why’d you bring this loser here?”
“Higgins and I have some explaining to do,” Connor answered. “Put that gun away and step aside, son. That’s an order.”
Drake met Skyler’s pleading gaze and, with a shudder of resentment, went into the bathroom to pull on his pants.
His mind raced as the threesome let themselves inside. He shook his head. He cursed himself for not sharing his thoughts with Skyler before she fell asleep about his plan to protect her from a distance. But now it was too late. She’d run into his father who’d brought Higgins with him, even after that man’s negligence had nearly gotten Skyler killed. What was Connor thinking?
Stalking out of the bathroom still buttoning his shirt, he found all three of them waiting by the window.
“Let’s all take a seat,” Higgins suggested.
“Fine,” Drake said. Reaching for
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