Sun Storm Page 2

  He tossed her backpack on the floor by her feet and then shrugged out of his jacket, cursing as he did. Then he threw it on top of her and slammed the door.

  The driver’s side opened. “Get out of the way.” Using his shoulder, he nudged her to the passenger seat. “I want to get away before the others come after us.”

  Her heart raced. She needed to stop…everything, before her fear robbed her of her ability to think and rationalize. One, two, three…

  Once she’d counted to ten, she focused on her situation. She was trapped in a car with a bad man. It was freezing outside, and she was in a remote location. She needed to remain warm and calm. She should stay in the car and save her energy until they were closer to civilization. Then she would make her move.

  When he settled himself behind the steering wheel, she flinched. He was too near. Heat radiated from him, and the faint aroma of soap surrounded her. Men who forced women into their cars should not smell good, and yet paradoxically, he did. She leant against the passenger window, wanting to increase the space between them, but that was impossible given they were in her tiny rental.

  He hauled his coat over her like a blanket, put the car in gear, and drove.

  “W-w-who are you?” Unbidden tremors wracked her body.

  “I’m David.” They bumped and bounced down the rough, snow-covered driveway to the main road. He stopped at the entrance and rolled down his window. “Cover your ears.” He pulled a gun from his pants pocket.

  Oh God, he has a gun. Before she could move or scream, he leaned out the window and shot the front tire of a truck that was parked on the road then tossed the pistol into a nearby snow bank. “That should slow them down.”

  He’d thrown the weapon away. That seemed significant, but she couldn’t figure out why. Everything was a chaotic blur, a jumble of questions, and reactions with no logical reason. “Who-whose—”

  “That’s the truck we came in.” He rolled up the window and turned onto the icy highway.

  Shudders once again racked her body, and she tensed in an attempt to control her shivering, not wanting him to think she was scared. Show no fear. Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do with people who frightened you? But was easier said than done, especially for her.

  He turned some knobs on the dash, and warm air blasted from the vents. “Let the shakes come. They’ll help you warm up. You’re not just cold. There’s the adrenaline crash, too.”

  It obviously hadn’t occurred to him she might be terrified. Not that it mattered what he thought because she had no control over him or his actions, but she could control herself.

  “Is this a rental?” he asked after they’d been driving for fifteen minutes. “It’s front wheel drive, which is good, but the car company should’ve put snow tires on this little vehicle.”

  She didn’t answer, but instead asked a question of her own. “The other’s… Did you…?” She couldn’t finish. If he admitted he’d killed them, then he had overwhelmed three men. On the other hand, if they were still alive, they might come after her. Either way she was still at risk so her question didn’t matter.

  She placed her hands flat under her knees, being sure to leave her fingerprints on the vinyl seat. If she disappeared, then the police would know she’d been here in the passenger seat, being driven rather than driving herself.

  If she survived, she would need to give a description of David. It was still dark out and the light from the dashboard wasn’t great, but she could ascertain his scar started high on his cheekbone. On closer examination, she could see it wasn’t thin and jagged, but was a large gouge carved out of his skin and was slightly thicker than the width of a pencil. The edges were white, but the deeper parts of the wound were darker.

  His intense gaze slanted toward her. She jerked and stared straight ahead, trying to regain control. Now she knew why she was so scared of him. It wasn’t the scar, his long hair or beard. It was his cold, penetrating gaze.

  She heaved her backpack onto her lap to form a barrier between herself and her captor. He was tall, muscular, and radiated power so the idea she could overpower him was ludicrous. She needed a plan, a way to escape a moving car. Sooner or later he would slow down for a stop sign or a traffic light. He couldn’t keep driving indefinitely. Once he stopped, she would be ready to jump out and run, but she had to choose her moment. There was no point in escaping if there was no one around to rescue her. And she would need to reach safety before he recaptured her.

  She jogged for half an hour every day. But a run to keep in shape was very different than a sprint for her life. His knees poked out of either side of the steering column, his legs so long they barely fit behind the wheel. She had to assume he could outrun her. To think differently would be foolish.

  He touched her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  She flinched, but didn’t answer.

  “Look, I want to put some distance between us and them before I pull over. Do you understand?”

  She remained silent, turning her face to the window just as they passed a gas station. A gas station meant people. They needed to stop—now. She made gagging sounds with her throat.

  “Are you sick?”

  If he thought she was ill he might pull over. She put a hand to her mouth, pretending to vomit. Be strong. Escape.

  He steered the car onto the shoulder of the highway. Marie released her seatbelt, grabbed her pack, and opened the door in one fluid motion.

  The cold hit her like a sledgehammer. She slipped on the ice, slamming down hard on her right knee. She stifled a yelp as she pushed up with her toes like a sprinter at the beginning of a race. She had taken only a few strides when she crashed into something solid. She bounced off David’s hard body. He clasped her shoulders, forcing her to stand still.

  She slapped at him. “Get your hands off me. Let go—”

  “Get in.” He forced her back to the car and stuffed her into the vehicle. He cursed as he snapped her seatbelt in place. “What’s wrong with you?” His moist breath warmed her frozen ear.

  She could see the sky through the open door. It was dark. There were no stars, no illuminating moon. The only light came from the headlights, the interior of the car, and the glow from the gas station canopy only a hundred yards away. When she turned to face him, she noticed another tiny, white scar on his eyebrow. “I do not need to talk to the man who is kidnapping me.”

  “I’m not kidnapping you. I’m saving you. I’m not interested in hurting you. Somehow we’ve both been caught up in something that’s…that’s…” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “To be honest, I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “Leave me at the gas station.”

  “Normally, I would, but it’s closed, and you’ll probably freeze waiting for it to open.”

  “I’ll take that chance.”

  “Really? And what if the others come by while you’re waiting?”

  She pictured the handsome man with the gun and the other two closing in on her. She didn’t want to meet them again ever.

  “Look, I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

  “And where would that be?”

  He captured her hands in his, blew on them, and then held them between his palms, warming them. “The FBI.”

  “But your friends—”

  “They’re not my friends.”

  “But you arrived with—”

  “First day in a new job, last day, too. Look, I’m a soldier and I’ve seen combat. But there’s a huge difference between fighting an enemy and barging into a woman’s house and raping and murdering her.”

  He placed her hands in her lap and stood. “Stay in the car for fu—God’s sake, and do up your coat. The cold will kill you, especially the way you’re dressed.”

  Although her body was mostly covered, the exposed skin of her hands did hurt, as did her cheeks and ears. And she didn’t want to think about her painfully cold toes.

  He slammed the door, walked to his side of the car, and climbed in.

/>   “You forced me into this car. How is that saving me?” Marie kicked off her boots and pulled her knees up to her chest, curling her fingers around her feet.

  “You’re not wearing socks,” he accused as if she were the one who’d committed a crime instead of him.

  “I wasn’t expecting company,” she snapped.

  “Show me your feet.”

  “What? No.” She shifted away from him.

  He rolled his eyes. “You need medical care if you have frostbite.”

  “And you can tell if I have frostbite?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I can.”

  “You have medical training?”

  “Yes, all Special Forces personnel have some medical training.”

  “You were a medic with the Special Forces?” It was easy to imagine him as a heavily armed soldier who worked in dangerous situations, but she couldn’t picture him with a caring bedside manner. He was too distant and dispassionate for that.

  “No, I was a communications specialist. Now show me your feet.” He growled the last sentence, which in any other situation might have made her smile. He definitely lacked the rapport of a medical professional.

  With her knees still tucked against her chest, she shifted so he could see.

  He ran a surprisingly gentle finger along her big toe. “Are they numb?”

  “They hurt.”

  “That’s good. It means there’s no permanent damage to your skin. You have frostnip. It’s an early stage of frostbite. They’ll hurt as they warm up, but it’s nothing to worry about as long as you keep them warm.”

  He slid the driver’s seat back, removed his boots and socks, stuffed his bare feet back into his boots, and passed her his socks. “Here, put these on.”

  Marie did as she was told and moaned with pleasure as they encased her icy toes. She couldn’t believe how happy she was to wear someone else’s pre-worn socks. His gaze flashed to hers, and his pale green eyes softened and then focused on the road.

  She had considered him to be cold and emotionless, but his actions had proved the opposite, and maybe he had a point about the cold. She’d misread him. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d misjudged a man. Seven years ago, she had been naïve enough to believe that when a man said “I love you,” he meant it. But those were just words, lies, to keep her from seeing the truth.

  David plucked a cell phone from his pocket, flicked it open, and punched in a number. “Finn, it’s David.”

  He waited a few seconds and then said, “I’m bringing in a woman. She’s involved in the theft of a solar panel.”

  “I didn’t steal anything,” she said and then clamped a hand over her mouth. She had to stop being confrontational. This wasn’t the time to grow a backbone.

  “Hush.” He scowled at her and then put the phone back to his ear. “Look, I need to hand her over to someone I trust. I trust you.” He disconnected without saying goodbye.

  “I’m not a thief.” Dear God, she needed to stop talking now. She didn’t need to antagonize him. He was the one who’d broken the law, not her.

  “Good, you can tell that to Finn Callaghan.”

  “And who is Finn Callaghan?”

  “He’s an FBI agent stationed in Granite City.” He steered onto the highway.

  “Why the FBI? Granite City is a good size. They must have a police department.”

  “I trust him.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then you’ll never see me again.”

  Marie clutched her backpack to her chest and stared out over the dark, frozen landscape. If David was telling the truth, soon she would be safe, and this whole terrible night would finally be over. She should be pleased, ecstatic even, but she wasn’t. David had shielded and looked after her on what was the most traumatic, terrifying event of her life. This type of selfless protection wasn’t something she’d ever experienced. No one had ever endangered themselves for her, until now. Not that she’d ever been in this kind of trouble before. Despite the fact he was connected to the men who had threatened her, part of her wanted to stay with him. She shook away the notion. It was an irrational reaction to the aftereffects of the night.

  Once he left her with the FBI, she would be alone again, and her short time with her terrifying protector would be over.

  Chapter Three

  David resisted the urge to wrap his arm around Marie’s shoulders as they walked into the red brick building that housed the Granite City-Elkhead County Police Department and the small FBI office. She didn’t want his protection or comfort.

  The desk sergeant scrutinized them over his mug of steaming coffee.

  “She’s here to see Finn Callaghan,” David said, trying to seem relaxed, and not someone who had burst into a young woman’s cabin and scared her half to death.

  Marie unzipped her coat to her waist, revealing the soft cotton fabric that was virtually transparent. He inhaled, looking away from her erect nipples, not because he didn’t enjoy the view, but rather because she had been through enough without him ogling her breasts.

  “It’s six a.m. Special Agent Callaghan probably isn’t in yet,” the desk sergeant said.

  “I just spoke to him. He’s here.”

  The young officer, who showed signs of teenage acne, shook his head. “I haven’t seen him.”

  David sighed, “Look, it’s been a long night. Finn will be here because he’s an asshole, and no woman will have him. And if he has his teeth into a case, he’s like an obsessive pit-bull—he can’t let go.”

  The officer gawked at him and then picked up the phone.

  Marie placed a hand on David’s arm to get his attention. “Is the agent a friend of yours? You said you trust him."

  He was gratified by her touch. It meant she wasn’t scared of him anymore. She met his gaze, not flinching from his grotesque face the way most people did. In the harsh, bright lights of the police station, her eyes were brown with gold striations, reminding him of dark gemstones. They held a hint of vulnerability, but no fear. He wished he were still handsome and whole the way he used to be. Then he would’ve whispered comforting words and held her until the feelings of powerlessness disappeared.

  Her head came to his chest. He estimated she was about five-six. She had the perfect figure, all curves. Only the longest tips of her shiny, dark hair remained in the ponytail, the rest hung about her face.

  “I don’t suppose you have a change of clothes on you?” he asked, although he knew she didn’t.

  She glanced down. A deep crimson flushed her cheeks. She was so different from the women he usually found attractive. They tended to be a little more obvious. He enjoyed ladies who taunted him and teased him until he sated his desire in a prolonged session of mutual pleasure. But he hadn’t engaged in a bout of lovemaking since before the scar and his self-imposed exile.

  She clutched her zip and tugged it higher. “Oh, God.”

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t look,” he lied.

  She nodded. “Thanks.” Her bright eyes faded into a blank stare.

  He’d seen that look before. Psychologists probably had a technical term for it, but he called it shock, trauma, or just plain done-in. Marie needed rest. She needed this day to be over.

  With any luck, Public Domain Energy would rectify their mistake in sending Brad Harper and the Chimps after her, and everything would be sorted out.

  She stood in the small entrance, clutching her backpack, as if it held the crown jewels of England. He hooked her chin, forcing her to look at him. She didn’t recoil and turn away but, once again, met his gaze.

  “Those men last night were under the impression you stole something. Tell Finn everything. Come clean.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Here.” He stuffed the car keys into her hand. He hadn’t decided to leave until that very moment, but it was necessary. She was safe here, but she needed an end to this nightmare, and for that to happen Marshall Portman had to call off his men. The President of Public Domain
Energy was David’s mentor, a man who had saved him from poverty and a life of crime. David owed Marshall the opportunity to make this right. He deserved the chance to deal with the situation and talk to the police on his own terms.

  Marie put the keys in her pocket without looking at them. “Where are you going?”

  “I have to talk to an old friend. Then I have to quit my job and collect my truck. Tell Finn I’ll call him later to arrange a meet.” He forced himself to step away from her. His work was done. It was time to let Finn do his job. It didn’t matter if she’d stolen the prototype or if this was all a big mistake. Either way, he wasn’t in a position to help. He’d protected her as best he could and brought her to the FBI. The rest was up to her. The police and FBI could sort out the mess. If she really was a thief, then David didn’t want any part of it.

  He took another step back. She stood in the middle of the lobby. One hand grasped the neck of her coat, the other a tight grip on her bag. Her embarrassment from a moment ago was gone. Her face was now pale and ashen. Once again, he was assailed by the overwhelming need to put his arms around her and comfort her, but he resisted the temptation. Instead, he turned and headed for the door.

  He couldn’t picture her as a lowlife thief. She seemed too innocent. This must be a terrible mix-up. Maybe they had gone to the wrong location. And he doubted that Marshall knew the kind of tactics Brad Harper employed.

  An icy gust hit him as he stepped out into the dark winter’s morning. He didn’t turn around to get one final glimpse of Marie. The last thing he needed in his life was a lady who stood neck deep in trouble. If the past year had taught him anything, it was that he wasn’t anyone’s savior. He couldn’t save himself, let alone a woman with pretty brown eyes, crazy, messed-up hair, and a curvaceous body clad in long johns.

  ****

  Marie watched David thrust open the door and march out into the cold January morning. He hesitated for a moment, his unkempt hair lifting in the frigid breeze, and then marched across the street toward Granite City Square.