“You do understand that you came driving into my family room, right?”

Being this close to her, he noticed the cuts on her face and smudge of mud on her cheek. Under all that dirt lurked a stunning woman. Big eyes and a sassy mouth. It was a killer combination that kicked his lust into high gear.

“I’m sorry about that.” She had the decency to wince.

“You’re sorry?”

“I can barely stand, my skull feels like it’s about to break open and I’m pretty sure I have someone else’s blood in my hair.”

“And?”

“Then there’s the part where someone is trying to kill me and I have no idea why. So I’m sorry if you find me unpleasant or ungrateful, but I just don’t have it in me at the moment to care.”

Spunk. He didn’t want to, but he liked it. “Fair enough.”

Guns and the Girl Next Door
HelenKay Dimon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Award-winning author HelenKay Dimon spent twelve years in the most unromantic career ever—divorce lawyer. After dedicating all that effort to helping people terminate relationships, she is thrilled to deal in happy endings and write romance novels for a living. Now her days are filled with gardening, writing, reading and spending time with her family in and around San Diego. HelenKay loves hearing from readers, so stop by her website at www.helenkaydimon.com and say hello.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Holden Price —Undercover Recovery Project agent Holden doesn’t know what to think when a mystery woman drives her car right through his front door. But when gunmen come hunting, Holden sure knows what to do—protect her.

Mia Landers —She changed her job and her life and now someone wants Mia dead. Running for her life, she crashes into Holden. He’s solid and strong and could be the very reason everyone suddenly wants her dead.

Bram Walters —A wealthy and powerful congressman. He’s Mia’s boss…is he also behind a web of corruption that’s left several women dead?

Trevor Walters —Bram’s brother and a highly regarded businessman. On the surface he’s legitimate, but things aren’t always what they seem.

Rod Lehman —Holden’s missing boss. Rod took an off-the-books job looking into irregularities in the Witness Security Program and now he’s gone. Holden wants to believe Rod’s alive, but the evidence is pointing in another direction.

Ned Zimmer —Mia’s ex keeps showing up exactly where he shouldn’t be. Mia changed her life to get away from Ned, but he’s found her again and isn’t leaving.

Luke Hathaway —The interim head of the Recovery Project and Holden’s friend, Luke has vowed to keep his agents safe, even if that means protecting Luke from Mia.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter One

Ignoring the burning in her thighs and tears stinging her eyes, Mia Landers ran. Her arms pumped up and down, propelling her through the thick woods. She had to reach her car before he caught her.

Dead leaves crunched under her feet, drowning out the pounding heartbeat in her ears. When stray branches scratched against her face, she pushed them out of the way and concentrated on staying steady on the patches of dirt beneath her.

The path had been lost to time and the night was pure black, but she refused to give up. Not when she could hear him screaming her name in a crazed frenzy behind her.

She blocked that out. Slam the door, shove the key in and drive away as fast as possible. That was the plan. She just had to make it to the car alive first.

“Mia!”

His angry voice boomed around her, bouncing through the trees in this open area of Virginia…. Were they even in Virginia anymore? She had no idea.

The past hour played in her mind like a movie gone wrong. Her boss had said to drive and she did. Lost in spitting anger, he had rapid-fired commands at her and she followed them. They left the safety of her car, got out and walked.

Then he lost his mind.

Everything that came after moved in a blur. He had lunged, his face twisted and red with fury. She kicked and punched. The second he fell to his knees she took off. Problem was hitting him in the side of the head with her purse had only slowed him down.

Even now thudding steps rang out behind her, gaining and threatening, as his heavy breathing drew closer. She tried to pick up speed but the heels of her sensible pumps slid, throwing her off balance every time her foot struck the muddy ground. The only good news was that she wore a pantsuit that day. If she had picked out her usual pencil skirt that morning, she’d be dead.

The cold air burned as she forced it down her rough throat. Not that she could feel the chill on her skin. It didn’t matter that she’d taken off her blazer. Her body had gone numb. But she could see the car. It sat about a hundred feet away.

The death grip on her keys pressed indentations into her palms, but she refused to let go. She’d already lost her cell phone when she dropped her purse. Scrambling around in the dark for the keys was not an option.

Just when she thought she’d never be free of the claustrophobic woods, she broke into the clearing and sprinted across the grass to the parked car. Unable to stop her momentum, her midsection slammed into the side of the sedan with a loud thump. The air rushed out of her lungs on impact. She doubled over, gasping as she struggled for breath.

Then she saw him standing there. Staring. Blood clumped on the side of his head and eyes wild with rage. The rip in the shoulder of his black suit jacket and scratches on his cheek gave testimony to the battle she’d fought before struggling out of his grasp.

Her key chain jangled in her hand, breaking through her stupor. She fumbled as her heart galloped, glancing away from him only long enough to hit the button for the automatic locks to throw the door open.

Her whole body trembled as she fell into the seat and locked her body in. Blood raced through her veins as the sound of her heavy breathing filled the car.

Like a vicious demon, dark and evil, he descended on her, roaring as he came. The heels of his hands slammed against her window. “Get out!”

She flinched at the mix of pounding and yelling, fearing every minute that he would break through the glass and grab her.

“Mia!”

She didn’t wait. The key turned just as he struck his fists against the hood of the car. Banging crashed in around her. Ducking, she waited for the metal to cave in. When it held, she swallowed back the panic building in her throat.

Fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, back hunched over, she hit the gas. The engine revved and tires spun.

Still he wouldn’t let up. He beat his fists against the car. With the pedal pressed hard into the floor, the back end finally swung around and knocked right into him. His eyes grew huge just before he yelped. His fingernails screeched against her window as he went down.

She didn’t check to see if he got up again.

To gain traction she lifted her foot off the gas and forced her thigh to ease back down again. With control restored, she took a quick look around for the nearest exit through the trees. Her memory jumbled. She saw only a dirt area and surrounding woods.

Blinking, she tried to remember how she got in there. When she focused again, he stood right in front of her car.

Warped anger rolled off of him in waves. An arm hung loose at his side. His face screwed up in a mask of insane fury.

She ran the car right into him. Aimed for his stomach and gunned it.

His body disappeared under the front of her car. To avoid rolling over him, she backed up and then maneuvered the vehicle around in a circle. Dust kicked up around the shaking metal as her tires squealed. With a quick glance in her rearview window at his crumpled and unmoving form, she took off, refusing to feel a second’s guilt.

She drove without a destination, fueled by adrenaline and terror and little else. Blackness enveloped her from all sides. The area lacked street signs and lights. Nothing marked the way or pointed toward civilization.

Why did he bring her out here? She turned the question over in her mind. The possibilities raced by her.

To keep from crashing, she forced her brain back to the task at hand. She needed to concentrate on the escape and the Y in the dirt road in front of her. Nothing felt familiar. Anxiety bubbled up in her stomach. Biting her lower lip, she closed her eyes and chose the right branch at random.

About a half mile in, her car rattled and dipped as she drove over rocks and through divots. She didn’t remember the road being this rough. She didn’t remember anything except her heart pulsing hard enough to set off a knocking in her head.

The steering wheel shifted from side to side and she clenched her fists tighter in a futile attempt to keep control. On the verge of giving up hope, she made out the shadow of a building in the distance. Lights. If it was a hallucination, it was a welcome one.

Holding on tighter, she aimed for a driveway, anything to indicate life, a phone and the police—any order would do so long as she got help and found safety. Her shoulders relaxed and her breaths came more easily.

The clunk took her by surprise. The back end of her car went one way and the front another. The bleak night hid the pattern of the road. She didn’t know what she ran over, but it was something. Something big that had her back tires bouncing against the ground and the steering wheel slipping further out of her sure grasp.

The structure, a small house, came up fast. One minute it loomed in the distance. The next she was on top of it. Before she could hit the brakes she smashed through a wooden fence. And kept right on going.

She pumped the brakes. The car slowed but refused to stop. She hit the pedal and slid her fingers over the console in search of the emergency brake. But it was too late. She glanced up in time to see the cabin’s front door crash right into the hood.

Chapter Two

Holden Price leaned his head back against his couch and threw his baseball in the air for what felt like the hundredth time. Much more of this and his catching hand would go numb.

Being on paid leave was not his idea of a good time. More like torture.

Up until two months ago he’d worked undercover with the Recovery Project, an off-the-books government agency fronting as an antiques salvage operation. He found missing people for a living, those on the run who didn’t want to be found and those who were desperate for rescue.

One case gone wrong and pencil-pushing higher-ups disbanded the Project and subpoenaed his boss, Rod Lehman, to Capitol Hill for top-secret congressional subcommittee hearings. It all sounded like a load of bureaucratic crap to Holden.

He’d spent his twenties in the army and the first four years of his thirties at the Project. Without the routine of work the past few weeks dragged. He couldn’t remember ever being this bored.

The ball thumped against his palm before he whipped it into the air again. The seam turned end over end as it traveled halfway to his family-room ceiling. It ran out of oomph and began falling back down just as the lights on his outside alarm system flickered to life on the panel next to the door.

Shrill beeps filled the room and kept right on cycling. When tires squealed outside the large double window across from him, Holden lifted his head and saw the blinding headlights weaving and shifting straight up his lawn.

The sights and sounds refused to register in his brain. By design, his cabin sat in the middle of nowhere. He dealt with dangerous people and life-threatening situations. The unsettling mix had convinced him long ago to set up a sanctuary, a place of peace known only to a few friends who also happened to be gun-carrying colleagues.

And now someone was violating the safety zone he’d created, using more than three thousand pounds of automobile as a weapon to do it.

He scrambled off the cushion and grabbed for the gun in his side table. He hit the floor on his right shoulder just as the sedan smacked through his front door. The crashing boom rattled the cabin’s foundation.

The wood creaked and splintered. Studs crumbled. The lights dimmed as the exposed wires fell from the smashed ceiling panels and pushed the electricity nearly to the breaking point.

With dust flying and pieces of furniture scattered everywhere, Holden sat still, his back to what was left of the couch and his gun aimed at the bowed head in the front seat of the car. Long blond hair mixed with the broken windshield glass even as the white-knuckled grip continued its hold on the steering wheel.

His attacker was a she.

And possibly dead.

She also didn’t have an air bag, which he found odd. Not that any part of the past two minutes had been normal.

Slow and as quiet as a man of his size could manage, he jumped to his feet. The muzzle didn’t waver. Neither did his stare. If she moved, he’d be ready to shoot.

Glass crunched under his feet as he approached the front of the car. The house alarm blared, but Holden tuned it out. His focus centered on her. Whoever “her” was.

“Lift your head.” He issued the order in his best you’re a dead woman tone.

Nothing.

To keep from going deaf, he headed for the alarm. Shifting around the side of the car and keeping his body square with the mystery driver, he reached out to disarm the thing. He lifted his hand and felt nothing but the cool March night air.

Snow hadn’t fallen in Northern Virginia this week, but the crisp smell signaled what could be a final winter blast. Now that he lacked a front wall, that was going to be a problem.

Glancing down, he traced his foot through the debris littering what was once a shiny hardwood floor. No sign of the panel, but he did spy his keys. As he leaned down to grab the chain, the driver’s head popped up.

She screamed loud enough to make his ears shrivel.

The shriek echoed inside his brain, drowning out the annoying sound of the alarm. In two seconds, he hit the code on his key chain to stop the electronic screeching. At the same time, he leveled the gun at the woman’s forehead in an attempt to quiet her.

“Stop,” he ordered.

“Wh-what…?”

“Do not move.” When she tried to open her door, he lifted his foot and kicked it shut on her again. “Hey!”

“You’re not listening. Stay right there.”

Her hand shook as she pressed it to her forehead.

“What are you doing?”

“Setting the ground rules.”

The skin at corners of her eyes wrinkled. “What?”

“This is my house.”

She shook her head and then grabbed it. “I don’t understand,” she said in a voice rough with what sounded like pain.

He didn’t know what to believe. Hard to trust a woman who used his family room as a parking lot.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he mumbled.

Her gaze shot to the gun and then back at his face. “Who are you?”

The look of wild-eyed panic had him thinking she might actually not know, but he wasn’t taking the chance. “We’re going to focus on my questions first. What are you doing here?”

“I…” Turning her head with a careful slowness that suggested an injury, she looked around the inside of the car. She glanced up and over the wheel as if noticing for the first time the damage around her. “Did I crash?”

The stuttering tone and dropped jaw were nice touches. Added to the sham.

Holden didn’t buy any of it. “Uh, yeah. That’s one way of putting it.”

“Where am I?”

“In the middle of my family room. Now, tell me your name.”

“Mia Landers.” She shifted her upper body and winced.

His elbows locked. “Stay right there.”

“I need to get up.”

“Are you hurt, Mia?”

She bit her lower lip. “I don’t know.”

Not exactly the answer he expected. “It’s a simple question. Yes or no?”

“Not really.”

He gave her two options and she picked a third. Interesting. “What does that mean?”

“I’m kind of numb.”

Shock. Assassin or bad driver, he still wasn’t sure but he did know she probably needed medical attention. “Open the door nice and slow.”

She stared down at her lap. “I can’t…”

From the glassy stare it looked as if his unwanted guest was losing it and fast. He stepped closer and followed her gaze to her legs. Minimal blood and room to move around under the dash, as far as he could tell. Just in case the stunned unblinking stare was a ruse, he didn’t let up.

“Let’s get out now.” He slipped his hand under the handle and opened the door for her. When she tried to get out without taking off her seat belt, he reached in and did the deed for her. “Here you go.”

Hands shaking, hair hanging in front of her eyes, she turned to the side and got one foot out of the car. On her first attempt to get up her knees buckled and her butt hit the leather seat hard.

Taking a long look, visually searching every part of her he could see for weapons, Holden gave in and tucked his gun in the small of his back. As gently as possible, he slid one arm between her back and the seat and tugged her out of the car, doing a subtle pat down in the process. A person couldn’t be too safe in a situation like this.

Her legs wobbled and every inch of her trembled, but she managed to stumble to her feet with him for support. “Oh, man.”

“You okay?” he asked when he had her on her feet, standing near what once was his front door.

“I think so. My head hurts but not too bad.” She wiped an unsteady hand through her hair. Her fingers snagged on leaves and a few pieces of cubed glass. “How did I get here?”

“I was wondering that same thing.” He guided her to his couch that was just about the only piece of nearby furniture to survive the crash, and only half of that was usable.

He also took a second to size up his opponent. Late twenties, five-seven or so, slim with an innocent round face that easily could be telling a lie or two.

She probably needed a glass of water and an ambulance, but he wasn’t ready to offer either yet. No one wandered around these dense woods at night. Beautiful blondes with bright green eyes rarely came out this way unless he invited them, and that didn’t happen all that frequently either. He used hotels in D.C. for that sort of thing, preferring to keep his private life at home very private.

“Tell me why you were out here,” he said.

“Where?”

“On my property.” Except for a historic estate about ten miles away, he was the only one out there.

Two miles of wooded land separated him from the main road. He used to think that was enough space. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“I was…” Her eyes grew huge as her mouth fell flat. “Oh, my God.”

“What?”

“I have to—”

She tried to stand up, but he anchored her next to him on the cushions. “Whoa.”

“You don’t understand.” Her gaze darted around the room. Her hands were in constant motion as if the energy inside her had sparked to life and wanted to get moving.

He soothed a hand over her shoulder. “Explain it to me.”

“I have to call the police.”

“Why?”

“The accident.”

The last thing he wanted was a squad of police cars swarming all over his property. If he had to, then yes, but he wanted to put it off until he understood exactly who Mia was and why she was in his house.

“Did you fall asleep at the wheel?”

“No.”

She sounded as if she had her full memory back now. “Was anyone in the car with you?”

She patted the pockets of her ripped and smudged pants. “It’s here somewhere.”

Watching her move, he still couldn’t tell what was happening. “What are you looking for?”

“My cell. I have to call the police and my office.”

“Mia, listen to me—”

“Now I remember. I dropped it.”

He put one of his hands over hers. “Doesn’t matter.”

She stopped shifting and babbling and stared up at him. “Wait, what did you say?”

He could barely follow her zigzagging conversation. “Tell me what happened out there.”

She swallowed hard enough for him to see her throat move. “I hit someone.”

That’s what he feared. He had not one but two victims running around his property. “So, there was a car accident?”

She toed the pile of what used to be his coffee table and now barely qualified as kindling. “Look around you.”

“I meant before you came sailing through the window.”

“Not exactly.”

“But you’re saying there’s a person out there who needs help.” He had some training, the usual military survival stuff but not much more. If the injuries were serious, he’d need help.

“No.” Her voice sounded far away, almost dreamy.

“Mia?”

“He’s dead.” Her eyes focused, looking clear for the first time. “I killed him.”

Holden had no idea who the “he” was or what was happening, but the lady seemed to need soothing and no one else was there to do it, so he tried. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

She stared him down. “I hope it is.”

Chapter Three

Mia sat there, looking into a pair of ice-blue eyes and wondering why the guy just happened to be holding a gun when she drove through his wall.

“You’re not making sense,” the mystery man said.

That probably had something to do with being terrified. If her body shook any harder, her brain might start rattling. It was bad enough her back teeth kept knocking together. She also had to deal with the pain above her eyes and bones that had turned to jelly.

First, she got attacked by her usually boring boss. That one still didn’t make sense. Now a guy with a scowl harsh enough to make her swallow her tongue in panic sat just inches away. With his coal-black hair and broad shoulders, he reminded her of some of the secret-service teams that walked through the Rayburn House Office Building where she worked.

This guy had an air of danger to him. The muscles straining under the sleeves of his black T-shirt should have scared her, but he didn’t give off that serial-killer vibe. Not that she knew how killers acted in these situations.

Right now, the only confirmed killer in the room was her. “He attacked me. Wouldn’t stop.”

“Who?”

The scene ran through her mind. Crazed eyes. Mumbled accusations. “He wanted me dead.”

“Let me try this again—who?” The mystery man moved his hand to her arm.

She stared down at his long fingers and tried not to flinch. If he was dangerous, she didn’t want to tick him off. She’d had enough of that for one evening. “What’s your name?”

This time he didn’t answer a question with one of his own. “Holden Price.”

Nothing about that name gave her insight into who he was or how much he might want to hurt her. A solid name. Of course, so was Ted Bundy.

She needed a phone and reinforcements, preferably the type that wore badges and carried bigger guns than Holden. Knowing she was finally safe also would be a relief.

“Now,” he said. “Let’s skip to the part where you tell me about this other person.”

She was more concerned with knowing everything about the potential threat in front of her. “You live here?”

Holden exhaled with just enough exasperation to let her know his patience was wearing thin. “I did until your recent redecorating, but I’m not the issue here. You are.”

“I need to call the police.”

Holden didn’t move. “Tell me who you think you killed. Give me his name.”

No harm in sharing that information. Everyone would know soon anyway. You couldn’t kill someone of her boss’s stature without making the news.

“Bram Walters,” she said.

Holden’s face fell. He actually went from looking frustrated to looking confused. “As in Congressman Bram Walters?”

“Same one.”

Holden’s gaze roamed over her face. “I don’t recognize you.”

Maybe the headache was the cause, but that was a comment that didn’t fit. “Why would you?”

“I know Walters.”

Not possible. She’d remember Holden. A guy who looked like him didn’t walk into the congressional office without every single girl fluffing her hair and practicing her smile. Put a suit on this man and he’d still have the Tall, Dark and Devastating thing down.

“I’m one of Congressman Walters’s legislative assistants,” she said.

“In the D.C. office?”

She didn’t understand Holden’s obsession with her employment. His questions swam around in her head until she thought her skull would explode. “I’ve been there about two months.”

“And now you think you killed the man you work for.” Holden said the words nice and slow, hovering over each one.

“I ran him over.”

“With your car.” That comment took even longer for Holden to get out.

“Well, yeah.”

“You’re saying Walters was at my house.”

She pressed a hand against her head to keep it from falling forward into her lap. “In the area.”

Holden blew out a long breath. “Interesting.”

“If I didn’t kill him it wasn’t for a lack of trying.”

This time the corner of Holden’s mouth kicked up in a smile. “I’d recommend you phrase that differently when you talk with the police.”

Police. Trials. The press. This was all bad. The head spinning picked up speed. “I can’t believe this.”

“Me either.”

It wasn’t all that difficult to pick up on the shock in Holden’s voice. Crossing him off the serial-killer list had proved a bit easier in the past few minutes. If he wanted to hurt her, he would have done it by now. Maybe he was the reclusive type, but he didn’t strike her as a threat.

That realization slowed the runaway drumming of her heart. Well, it did until he got up and she got a close-up view of the gun balanced in the waistband of his pants.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

He shot her an expression that suggested she wasn’t too bright. “To look for Walters.”

“Why?”

Holden’s eyes widened at that. “In case he’s still alive and needs help.”

“You can’t.” She jumped up and grabbed Holden’s arm, ignoring the tossing and turning in her stomach.

“Why is that?”

“My boss is dangerous.” And the last thing she needed was a second round with him.

Guilt washed over her every time the image of the Congressman falling under her car replayed in her mind. Not that she’d had a choice. In a contest between them over who would live, she’d rather think of her boss as dead.

“Walters wears a suit and sits behind a desk all day making decisions without regard to the facts.” Holden removed her fingers. “Trust me, I’m not afraid of him.”

She focused in on Holden’s comment. Blocked out everything else. “That’s a pretty specific impression.”

“I know politicians.”

She didn’t buy that explanation. Headache or not, this was something else. Something deeper and more personal. “I’m getting the sense you know this congressman.”

“If you’re right about killing him, we should be using the past tense.”

She felt the need to defend her actions. “He went insane out there.”

“Which brings me to my biggest question.” Holden slipped the gun out of his pants and held it at his side. “Why were you on my property with Walters?”

Seeing the weapon brought the panic rushing back and the searing headache right behind. It screamed along her senses, paralyzing her. “I don’t know.”

“Try again.”

“I don’t.”

Holden shifted the gun behind him and leaned down until they were eye to eye. “Mia, I’m not playing around here. I want the truth.”

Law enforcement. She’d bet her life on it. She knew the beast. The way he repeated her name. The steady tone to his voice. She’d dated a cop for two years. Holden had the same calm assurance. He oozed control and confidence.

And he handled that gun like a pro.

“The Congressman drove me out here, kept asking me who I was working for—”

Holden held up his free hand. “I thought you worked for him.”

“I do…did. I actually don’t know what happens now that he’s dead.”

“We’ll go with the assumption he’s very much alive. If so, I don’t get the comment about you working for someone else.”

“Neither did I. The Congressman wanted to know what I was looking for in the system.” The man had screamed it at her. That memory hadn’t faded one bit. “I have no idea what he was talking about.”

“System?”

“His personal computer. He keeps a laptop in the office. The only thing I can think of is he thought I broke into it for some reason.”

A strange look flashed on Holden’s face. Before she could decipher it, the expression disappeared. He morphed back into big-man-blank-look mode.

“Did you?” he asked.

“Why would I?”

“Why would you drive through my house?” He gestured around the room. “See? There are many questions that need answering here.”

“If you say so.”

“I do, but right now we’re going outside.”

“No.” Smart women did not go running around in the dark with strange men. They also didn’t race back into trouble once they’d escaped it. “Definitely not.”

From the frown it was clear Holden didn’t care for her refusal one bit. “Excuse me?”

“The police.”

“You can keep saying that but it’s not going to happen. Not until I know what we’re dealing with here.”

She glanced around for a phone, careful not to move her head too fast. The thing must be under her car because she didn’t see it. “A dead member of the House of Representatives. That’s kind of a big deal, don’t you think?”

“I’m not the one who killed him.”

She stopped. “You’re not funny.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that.” Holden’s stare wandered over her, hovering a bit too long on her breasts before continuing down.

“Are you done?”

He had the nerve to look confused at that. “With what?”

“Never mind.”

“Okay. You stay here.”

“I don’t even know where here is.”

He hitched his head in the direction of the hood of her car. “I’d tell you to watch some television, but you drove over it.”

She had bigger problems at the moment and sure hoped he had insurance. “How will you find the Congressman?”

“He’ll be the one on the ground.”

Holden might not be a physical threat, but he sure was a smart-mouth. At the moment, she wasn’t a fan of the personality trait. “I mean in all that space out there. You must have five acres of nothing but woods.”

“More than that but not all of it’s mine.”

“Are you purposely misunderstanding me?”

He shot her his second smile. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’ll be right back.” He made it to the gaping hole that used to be his door before he turned around again. “Forget that. I was right the first time. You’re coming along.”

She could barely stand up and he wanted her to run around in the dark. She was smart enough to know that wasn’t a great idea. “Because?”

“I don’t trust you behind me.”

“You’re the one with the gun.”

“Which is why I’m making the rules.”

Chapter Four

Holden thought about turning on the floodlights. He had rigged the setup in the yard for an occasion just like this. He could outline every corner of his property and start a real search, but he decided against it.

Something was very wrong here, and not just the idea that he might have a dead Congressman on the premises. The problem was the identity of the possible deceased.

What were the odds the guy Holden secretly had been investigating would mistakenly find his way here, to the outskirts of Fredericksburg, Virginia, fifty miles and a world away from the hustle of Washington, D.C.? To a place Holden lived but most people mistook for the wooded back half of a huge horse farm. The answer: not good.

“Can we walk slower?” Mia asked.

He glanced over at her. She tried to hide a slight limp, but he picked up on it. Or, he had now that she complained. “You okay?”

“A bit sore from being slammed into the dash board.”

“Not to point out the obvious, but it wouldn’t have happened if you had an air bag.”

“It was stolen.”

“Tonight?”

“About a month ago. Outside my apartment.” She grumbled something about rotten thieves. “I parked under a streetlight and still.”

“Where the hell do you live?”

“Southwest D.C.”

“I hate the city.” With the Recovery Project office downtown closed pending the congressional hearings, he had no reason to go to D.C. He hadn’t been to the one-bedroom apartment he kept near the office for emergencies in weeks. He didn’t have any plans to visit it now either.

“It’s downright creepy out here,” she said.

A city girl. “You get used to it.”

“Everything looks the same.” She stopped and turned around in a circle.

“That sort of thing happens in the woods.” This time she didn’t grab her head or look ready to throw up. He guessed the adrenaline had kicked in and masked the pain. Either that or this woman could fake her way through any situation. The latter option had him on edge and ready to take her down if necessary.

“How do you know which direction I drove in from?” she asked.

He pointed at the ground. “Following the tire tracks. While we’re on that subject, did you even try hitting the brakes before you crashed into my house?”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking straight, what with killing my boss and all.”

“I guess that’s fair.”

As they walked, he glanced at the tall trees blocking his view of the sky. Her tires had kicked up dirt and spread gravel and leaves everywhere. “I’m not seeing anything out here except for the landscaping you mowed down.”

“Does that mean you don’t believe me?”

“Oh, I know you hit something.”

“Is this a trust issue or do you have some superpowers I need to know about?”

Gone were the initial dazed look and slurred words. The more air she got, the more sarcastic she became. For some reason, he liked this version better.

“I saw the blood on your fender,” he said.

“I have a theory.”

The jump in the conversation threw him for a second but he didn’t let on. “About?”

“You’re not rushing to call the police because you are the police.” She looked pleased with her theory.

“Wrong guess.”

“You’re law enforcement of some type.”

Was. Looked as if those days were over. “How did you get there?”

“It’s an educated assumption.”

“Well, it’s wrong because I’m actually unemployed.”

She pushed branches out of her way as she walked. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“Other than the fact you don’t look like the lounge-around-doing-nothing type, I have no idea.”

Holden was about to shoot back an inappropriate comment about what he liked to do in his spare time when a flash of light to the far right caught his attention. The beam cut through the black distance and moved closer. Scanning the wide arc in front of him, he saw two more. Three people closing in fast.

He grabbed her arm and stopped her from taking another step. “Wait.”

A twig snapped under her shoe. “What?”

“Quiet.” When she started to protest, he whispered the necessary information in a rush. “We have company.”

She bent her knees and hunkered down as if trying to hide from anyone who could be watching. “Walters?”

“I don’t think so. No.”

Not police either. Holden didn’t see any of the telltale signs. No sirens. No flashing lights from a cop car. Not even any noise.

This wasn’t an emergency crew checking out a call about a crash. These were the small, green, focused lights of a search party. A deadly quiet group looking for something. Holden guessed the “something” was Mia.

She shook her head. “I don’t see—”

“We’re going back to the house.”

“It’s not exactly a great hideout.”

“Yeah, it is.” It was the perfect place. He’d built it that way. Every member of the Recovery Project had an escape plan. He never thought he’d need one, not way out here, but it paid to be prepared. “Come on.”

He took her hand. The last thing he needed was to lose her in the trees. The growth was too thick and the night too dark to take the risk.

Having one arm under his control also meant it would be harder for her to come at him if it turned out she wasn’t the innocent victim she claimed to be. He hadn’t performed a true search of her body for weapons, but from his visual tour he didn’t see any bumps in her clothing or pockets of concern. But now that they had company, he planned on being a bit more careful.

Crouched down and kicking at a near run, they headed back to the house. As they rounded the back of the battered car, he looked over his shoulder. Mia’s cheeks puffed in and out and her focus stayed on the ground. He guessed she was trying not to fall. Not a bad plan, in his view. It was the scene behind her that had him twitching.

Those lights kept moving, steady and calm, forming a perimeter and pushing in. They, whoever “they” were, descended on the house like pros. The military precision had him thinking Special Forces, but the “why” still eluded him.

Holden knew this might be about him and not Mia. He’d been digging around in private places and that sort of thing tended to make powerful people angry.

They passed through the ripped drywall, stepping over the debris with as little crunch as possible. Without the ability to bar the door, he had limited time to get everything in order. Before she could check behind them, he guided her through the family room and down the short hall.

On the way, he grabbed his satellite phone and telescopic sight and ignored everything else. “This way.”

“We can call the police,” she said in a breathless hush as he hustled her into his stark bedroom.

“No time.” He pressed his back against the wall and peeked out the window. The magnification provided by the goggles let him see the advance of the unwanted visitors.

“Of course there’s—” She stared at him. “Binoculars?”

“An updated version, yes.”

“Are the people close?”

Holden thought about lying to her. If she started crying or went into shaky shut-down mode, he might have to knock her out to rescue her. He didn’t look forward to that possibility at all.

“Stand against the wall and no noise.”

She obeyed. Waited all of three seconds before talking again. “Do you have another gun?”

“Depends. Can you shoot?”

“How hard can it be?”

“So, that’s a no.”

He got a good look at the attackers now. And that’s what they were. Dressed in black and loaded down with ammunition, they moved in unison through a mix of hand signals and nods. Mercenaries. No question these guys were guns for hire.

“We have to get out of here,” he said.

“You have a plan?”

He nodded at the wall. “We’re going through there.”

She followed his gaze and frowned. “It’s solid wood.”

“Looks that way, doesn’t it?”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to sneak out the front? There’s no door, but at least there’s a hole and an obvious exit.”

“The guys we’re trying to avoid are at the front.” He ducked down and crossed under the window. No need to give the attackers a clear target.

“What are—”

From the edge of the bed, he motioned to her. “Get on the ground and come toward me.”

She didn’t question this time and he was grateful.

With his blood pounding through his veins and her breathing echoing in his ear, he dropped to his knees and headed for the far wall. After crawling the short distance, he hit the floor a second before she did and collapsed with his back against the wood.

Panting now, her green eyes filled with fear, she looked over at him. “I don’t understand why all this is happening.”

To calm her, he brushed her wild hair back off her shoulder. “We’ll get to that later.”

“Are we going to have a later?”

“Count on it.” He punched a series of numbers into the square black watch on his wrist until he heard a click and the wall behind them shifted. “Lean forward.”

The partition lifted from the floor. He waited until it drew up about four feet and then rolled into the small room on the other side.

Her jaw dropped. “What are you doing?”

Before she even finished the sentence, he pulled her through the opening and slammed the wall shut behind them. He was on his feet and grabbing for his computer hard drive in the next breath.

Hands moving and mind shifting into gear, he inventoried the L-shaped desk and four shelves and grabbed a small backpack. He couldn’t carry much but some items should come along if possible.

She brushed her fingers across the paneled wall. “What is this place?”

“It’s called a SCIF.”

Her hand dropped to her side but the confusion didn’t clear from her face. “Come again?”

“The technical term is Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility,” he said as he rifled through the desk drawer for a set of keys.

The area was an enclosed, windowless space in his house. In here he could review classified information. It functioned as a secure office within his sanctuary. The bedroom, closet and bathroom surrounded it. No one would check for it unless they knew it was there and started measuring square footage and found some missing.

“If you didn’t look so serious I would think you were kidding,” she said.

“’Fraid not.” He pressed a remote and the monitor on the wall across from the hidden door switched from a blank screen to a shot of the area outside the house. Only one attacker was visible. That meant the other two were circling or already inside.

She watched him unzip an internal pocket of his backpack. “You’re not police.”

“I already said no to that.”

“You’re a spy.”

“Not that either.” He slipped his hard drive inside the space. It was the size of a paperback book but far more important. It held all of the information he’d been gathering on his secret side project, on the congressman Mia insisted she killed.

“Now what?”

“Time to go.”

“Where?” She looked around the six-foot space. Then her eyes locked on the figure on the screen. “He’s not police either.”

“No.” Holden spared the attacker a glance before punching in the password on his watch.

“What are you doing now?”

“Setting the timer to blow the place up and sending a signal for help to a friend.”

“Right.” She shot him a nervous smile but it faded a second later. “Wait, you’re still serious?”

“Yeah.”

Up until that point she’d held it together. She had paced a bit and rubbed her hands together a lot, but otherwise no craziness. With his admission about the planned explosion, her movements became frantic. Her hands flew around in the air and her voice squeaked.

“Holden, this is ridiculous. You know that, right? Please tell me you’re not some lunatic serial-bomber type.”

“Okay.” He held both of her upper arms with a touch he hoped wouldn’t terrorize her further.

“That is not a convincing response.”

“I need you to stay calm.”

“Then get us out of here.”

“We’ll have less than ten minutes.”

Her green eyes turned glassy with fear. “Ten?”

“That means you do everything I say, when I say.” He waited until she nodded. “Good.”

He took her hands and pulled her tight against his body. He figured it was a testament to her fear that she didn’t struggle or slap him. When he reached behind him and hit the small lever under his desk, the floor next to her feet rolled back to reveal a steel-reinforced opening and crudely constructed steps made of dirt wound down into the earth.

Good thing he believed in planning ahead for catastrophe.

“You are just full of surprises,” she muttered as she stared into the hole that was just big enough to fit Holden.

“Here’s another one.” He handed her the light stick. “You’re going first.”

Chapter Five

By the third tread of the twenty-step decline, Mia regretted wearing heels of any type. The narrow passage barely fit a foot and the only railing was the dirt wall next to her shoulder. She had a death grip on that.

Mud caked under her nails and her shoulders ached from holding them stiff. The banging in her head hit orchestra levels.

But she didn’t care. No way was she going to die on an underground staircase.

When she got halfway down, she glanced back up. Holden’s light stick cast a warm glow at the top area, but she didn’t see him.

“Holden?” If there was such a thing as a frantic whisper, she’d just mastered it.

The resulting silence sent the blood churning in her veins. There was no way she could do this alone. Heck, she didn’t even know where she was or where this tunnel led. Those men outside with the big guns sure weren’t going to help her.

With tiny shuffling steps, she turned around, ignoring the way her brain rattled and shifted. Careful not to topple backward, she grabbed on to the step above her and looked up. In the dim light she could see the tips of Holden’s sneakers.

“What are you doing up there?”

“I’m coming.” His voice sounded weak and a little breathy.

She didn’t know how, but between climbing down and closing the door above him, he must have been injured. There was no other explanation and she had no choice but to ease her way back up the steps. “I’ll be right up.”

“No. Stay there.”

She was pretty much done with the whole obeying thing. She’d let him know that if she didn’t slip to her death.

Balancing her hands against the damp walls, she lifted one foot then the other, balancing her shoes sideways on each step, and made her way back up to him. She met him on the third one from the top. “What are you doing?”

His arms were outstretched with his fingers clamping onto the wall on either side of his body. His broad shoulders spanned the sides of the tunnel. One wrong twist and he could wedge his upper half against the dirt walls. If that happened, she’d have to dig him out with her bare hands.

“Keep going down.” His husky tone vibrated.

“What is wrong with your voice?” She lifted her light and shined it on his face.

Sweat gathered on his forehead and his cheeks had bleached snow-white. “Nothing.”

“What is it?” She recognized the look. She had enough training to diagnose trauma when it walked right in front of her.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re not.”

“We don’t have time to argue.” He hesitated between each word.

“Are you claustrophobic?” She asked the question even though she knew the answer.

“Of course not.”

Typical male. “Right. So, why is your escape route a tiny tube of mud if you can’t stand enclosed spaces?”

“I’ve been working on it.”

Now that she was paying attention, she saw the signs. The deep breaths and frenzied mumbling disguised as calm. This was something more than claustrophobia. Something worse.

She’d figure that out later. Right now she needed to get them down. “We’ll have to practice coping techniques another time. Because we have about two minutes before your house explodes, we need to fast-forward your progress.”

He blinked a few times. “How?”

“Let’s go.” She held out her hand.

He glared at her fingers.

“One step. Take a deep breath while you do it.” She inhaled as an example. “Focus on a different place in your mind. A place that gives you pleasure.”

He shook his head. “You need to turn around and go down.”

“We need to move. Both of us.” She wiggled her fingers at him. “Visualize that image.”

After two failed tries, he pulled one hand away from the wall. Shaky and slow, he reached out to her. His palm was ice-cold.

“There you go.” She wanted to give him a few minutes to get comfortable, but they didn’t have time. With a gentle tug, she eased him down one step. As she walked sideways with one hand planted against the wall and the light stick between her teeth, she brought him with her.

She battled gravity and panic and the pull of his weight against her body each time she tried to lower him a step. In her head she counted down the seconds to the fireball.

“Keep breathing,” she said over a mouthful of plastic.

“I am.” Still unsteady but gaining speed, he moved down.

She switched the light to the hand against the mud, trapping it against the wall each time she pressed for balance. “Are you thinking about that image?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

He was almost at the normal speed of an eighty-year-old with a walker now. “You don’t want to know.”

“Sure I do.” Anything to keep him talking and not thinking about the walls closing in.

“Sure?”

She checked their path. Two steps from the bottom. They were almost clear. “Yep.”

“You…”

“That’s nice.”

“Naked.”

Her foot slipped but his vise grip and a hasty grab for the wall saved her from sliding down the rest of the way on her face. Pebbles tumbled and her light stick went flying. She landed in a sprawl with one hand stretched out in front of her, holding his.

Sitting on a stair with her pride squashed under her, she glanced up at him. “Was that necessary?”

Through the sweating and the slight tremble of his arm, he smiled. “You asked.”

“Yeah, well. I’m sorry I did.” She kicked out her legs and hit the bottom. Being less than gentle, she tugged him down after. “Keep your mind on the rescue.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She dropped his hand and wiped her palms against her pants. Locating the light stick took longer. It had rolled under a rock crevice. Despite pulling on it, the thing wouldn’t budge.

She gave up and stood. “Now what?”

The words barely escaped her mouth when the ground shook. One minute she stared into the bleak darkness of the tunnel ahead and the next her feet left the floor.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist. Holden’s shout vibrated in her head as he dragged her to the ground. She saw the mud coming up to greet her and couldn’t put out her hands to break the fall. He had trapped them at her sides.

At the last second, he shifted his weight and took the brunt of their combined weight on his shoulder. A rough breath blew against her cheek right before he pressed his hand to the back of her neck and tucked her head under his chin as he rolled on top of her.

Beneath her, the ground shifted from side to side. Above her, a mix of shattering booms and Holden’s harsh breathing filled her ears. She waited for the ceiling to cave in as mud and chunks of rock fell all around them. None of it touched her, but she could feel Holden take the impact and groan each time he got hit.

An odd roar rumbled through the tunnel. “What is that?”

“The fire.” He finally looked at her. “You okay?”

“No, but I can move.”

“Good.” He eased off of her. “We’re going to run.”

“Are you worried about a cave-in?

“I’m worried I won’t be able to get out of here otherwise. It’s getting tighter every second.” He leaped to his feet.

She saw a rip in his backpack and blood running down his arm. But it was the frantic look in his blue eyes that told her what she needed to know. Being inside this mud tube was killing him.

“Let’s go,” she agreed.

With her hand in his and only his light as a guide, they raced down the long hall. Something scurried ahead of them but she ignored it. Every creature for itself.

Twenty feet after a sharp turn, they hit a wall. “Holden!”

“We’re fine.” Another touch of his watch and the dirt wall slid open. “The other side is steel.”

“You’ll have to tell me why an unemployed non-spy has this setup.”

“Once we’re safe.” He dug his fingers into the small opening and pushed a door no one but him could see a second ago.

A sudden rush of cold air smacked her in the face, sending a shiver spinning through her. Walking from one dank, dark place into the black openness of the woods didn’t do anything for her vision. She couldn’t see anything except the towering trees surrounding them on three sides and the orange flame licking into the sky behind them.

The fire crackled and danced, jumping from the burning heap of the former cabin to the branches of the nearby trees. Without help, this could spread and cause a disaster.

Holden closed the door and then leaned against it. The seam blended into the landscape until only the rock at the base of a small hill was visible. He, however, still had the green tint around his mouth. Even without any decent light she could see that.

“You okay?” She rubbed a hand up and down his arm as she asked.

“Fine.” He inhaled nice and deep. The air seemed to revive him. “We’re not out of the woods yet.”

“Literally.”

“We need to keep moving, just in case one of those guys got out in time.” Holden delivered the insight with his commanding tone back in place. Then he started walking.

Not wanting to be left behind, she took off after him and reached for his wrist. “Where are we going?”

“To the truck.”

Maybe he hit his head. “Do you see a truck?”

He leaned his mouth down close to her ear. “Trust me.”

Another few steps and they ran into a pile of branches she hadn’t seen the minute before. He dumped his pack on the ground and wasted no time throwing the limbs on a stack to the side. Slowly, he uncovered a beat-up pickup truck. It was small, possibly once was green and didn’t look as if it could go a mile without chugging to a stop.

“Really?” she asked.

“Get in.”

It took five pulls before the door opened. When it did, it flew out of her hands, creaking as it went. She ignored his glare and every pain in her body as she hopped inside.

“Not the quietest getaway ever.” Mumbling under his breath, he chucked his pack on the floor.

He turned the key and kept the lights off. Remarkably, the engine started. It didn’t clink or sputter either.

With the truck in Reverse, he rested his arm across the back of the bench seat. Whatever he was about to say had him grinning, but then his mouth fell into a flat line. “Get down!”

She didn’t think. Hands over her head, she ducked but not before she saw the beam of green light flash across the front of the car.

Holden yanked the wheel hard to the left as he stepped on the gas. His grip didn’t ease as he bent down, bringing his head close to hers.

“Go faster!” She screamed the command with all the out-of-control terror bubbling inside her.

“Can’t.” He pressed her farther into the seat with his free hand. “We’ll get stuck in the mud.”

She could feel the energy pounding off him as pinging sounds echoed all around her. The tires slid and the back of the car moved as if separate from the front. With a sudden crack, the window next to her head shattered and the car slowed.

She lost all ability to talk, to do anything, when a hand draped in a black glove reached into the truck. It slapped for her, grabbing for her hair, but she pressed her body low against the seat and begged Holden to do something.

She watched him morph into superspy mode. With one hand on the wheel and his foot on the gas, he threw out his free arm and pointed his gun at the darkness over her shoulder.

The deafening blast exploded right next to her face. She saw a burst of light and heard the thundering boom. Then the offensive hand fell away.

By the time she sat up, Holden had maneuvered them out of whatever had a hold of the wheel. They spun around in a circle and drove about five feet before he slowed to a stop.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice rubbed raw from all the yelling and panic.

“Checking.” He was out of the truck before she could stop him.

She slid across the seat and peeked out the driver’s side door. “Holden!”

“Do not move,” he called back.

Her muscles were frozen. If she wanted to jump down, run—anything—she couldn’t. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until he ran back and slid into his seat.

She smacked his arm.

“Hey!” He had the nerve to look offended.

“What were you thinking?”

“That I could identify him.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Did you?”

“No.” Holden kept glancing in his rearview mirror as he drove slow but steady through the chocking woods.

“Is he…”

“Dead?” Holden looked at her then. The terrified anguish from the tunnel was gone. He wore a mask of fury now.

She didn’t know if he was angry with her or coasting on adrenaline. Either way, she didn’t appreciate the barking. If he wanted attitude, she was more than prepared to show him some.

“Well, is he?”

“Very.”

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