Secret Intentions

“Where’s your bodyguard?”

“On his way.” She pointed to a lanky man approaching from her left. “I just thought it would be better if we didn’t all go in the same vehicle to the reception. I keep thinking about what happened to the Harlowes.”

She had a point. General Emmett Harlowe, his wife and his daughter had all been kidnapped together from the north Georgia vacation cabin they owned. Spreading the Marsh family into different vehicles would make it hard for the SSU to get to them all.

“Be careful, okay?”

“You going to join us at the lodge?” she asked, falling into step with the guard as they walked toward a navy SUV parked nearby.

“That’s the plan.”

“There’s not a convenience store across the street where you can lurk.”

He smiled at the humor in her voice. “That’s okay. I know that area about as well as I know any place in the world. I’ll figure out something.”

“My guard is giving me the stink eye. I guess I need to get off the phone.”

“Be careful.”

“You, too.” She sounded serious.

He hung up and lifted the binoculars again, watching until she was safely inside the SUV. He started his car and pulled up to the road, waiting for Evie and her guard to pass. He didn’t bother trying to keep his distance. If the guard spotted him, Evie could explain his presence.

No way was he letting Evie out of his sight this time.

* * *

“H E ’ S NOT A DANGER,” Evie told the guard in the driver’s seat, a lanky, quiet man in his early forties. Her father had introduced him as Alan Wilson, a former Jefferson County prison guard. “He’s my boss.”

“Jesse Cooper?” Wilson asked.

“You’ve heard of him?”

“Everyone in the security business has heard of him.”

She felt a surge of pride and had to remind herself that she had little right to feel flattered by any praise for Cooper Security. She’d worked there less than half a year as an accountant, and she certainly had no right to take pride in any of Jesse Cooper’s accomplishments.

He was just her boss. Not even her direct boss—there were a couple of layers of middle management between them at least. And any personal connection between them had been severed completely less than an hour ago when her sister had married someone else.

She turned to look behind them, spotting Jesse’s car only forty yards back. She couldn’t see him through the glare on the windshield, but she took comfort knowing he was there. They started around a curve, temporarily hiding Jesse’s car from view. With a sigh, Evie turned back to face front.

And gasped as she spotted two cars sprawled across the road ahead.

Wilson spat out a couple of quick profanities, slamming on the brakes. Only the seat belt and her feet planted on the floorboard kept Evie from pitching through the windshield.

The brakes shrieked, the chassis shuddered as the SUV’s wheels struggled for traction, eating up a terrifying amount of the narrow distance between them and the cars ahead. Evie braced herself for a collision.

They stopped a few yards short of impact. Wilson’s hands trembled on the steering wheel.

Evie pressed her hand to her pounding heart. “My God.”

She looked behind them, expecting to find Jesse’s car right on their bumper. But he’d stopped well short. Of course. Nothing ever seemed to catch Jesse Cooper by surprise.

A cracking sound, incredibly close, drew her attention away from the car behind her. She felt something warm and wet splash her and looked at Wilson for an explanation.

For a moment, she couldn’t process what she was seeing. He was still upright, still facing forward, just as he’d been a moment before. But where his head met the headrest, blood and brain tissue splattered the upholstery.

Another cracking sound made her duck behind the dashboard. The window beside her disintegrated, pebbles of glass falling around her. In rapid succession, two more shots rang in the air.

Oh God oh God oh God!

She was still in her bridesmaid dress, shackled by the tight bodice and long skirt. Her feet tangled in the folds of satin as she unbuckled her seat belt and tried to crawl onto the floorboard to protect herself from more gunfire.

She needed a weapon. Some way to fight back.

She eyed the butt of the Smith & Wesson 9mm pistol peeking out from beneath Wilson’s bloodstained jacket. Tamping down a flood of nausea, she grabbed the weapon, grappling with the holster until she’d tugged it free.

She dared a quick peek over the dashboard. The two cars remained where they were, blocking the road. She could see a couple of men crouched behind the cars, the tops of their heads barely visible. Another gunshot rang out and they disappeared from sight.

Jesse, she realized. He was giving her cover fire.

If she could get back to his car, she had a chance. He’d get her out of here, away from the ambush. He’d take her somewhere safe.

But only if she could get to him.

The dress was a liability. She couldn’t run in the long skirt and didn’t have time or room to undress without putting herself in the line of fire. But if she could get rid of the skirt, she might have a chance.

She grabbed the fabric at the seam where the bodice met the skirt, took a deep breath and pulled as hard as she could. The satin tore away with a satisfying rip. She found the tear and pulled harder, separating the skirt from the bodice until it fell away completely. Wriggling free of the skirt, she grabbed the Smith & Wesson and took another peek over the dashboard just in time to see one of the assailants take another shot.

The bullet thudded against the frame of the car, shaking the whole vehicle. She swallowed a fresh flood of nausea and ducked again.

Okay, think. You’ve got to get back to Jesse. That means you may have to do a little shooting of your own.

She wasn’t a great shot, but thanks to her recent orientation training at Cooper Security, she knew how to lay down cover fire. Of course, doing that while running was a whole other thing altogether, but what choice did she have? Wait for Jesse to run to her rescue? That would just put him in the line of fire, too. And if she didn’t make her move soon, that was exactly what Jesse would do.

He wasn’t the kind of guy who’d hang back and let the situation unfold.

She took a deep breath and visualized her next moves. Open the door. Use it for cover as she fired off a couple of rounds, forcing the men behind the cars to duck. Then run like hell to Jesse’s car and hope she could get out of the line of fire before the ambushers got a chance to shoot back.

She tugged the door handle but nothing happened. It was locked.

She swallowed a frustrated curse and shoved the lock open. Gunfire split the air, making her flinch, but it seemed to come from behind her, so she made her move, swinging the door open.

Scrambling out, she kept her body behind the door and rose just long enough to fire a couple of shots through the shattered window. Then she whipped around and started running.

She spotted Jesse crouched behind his car door, his gun already firing a rapid fusillade of cover fire. Reaching the passenger door, she jerked it open and dived inside, hunkering on the floorboard.

Jesse fired three more rounds, already sliding behind the steering wheel. He fired a final shot as he turned the key in the ignition and slammed into Reverse.