Hot Pursuit (23 page)

Wolf tried not to loiter in the bookstore after being given the boot at the bed-and-breakfast. He might have eavesdropped on a conversation or two that morning. Angel had a busy bookstore, and he never knew if idle gossip or relaxed conversation between Zounds’s citizens might reveal some useful information. Wolf was not using Angel, though. He’d replaced a couple lightbulbs, reinforced several shelves in her back room, and helped organize supplies she had for her store. He’d considered looking into affordable security systems for her store. A knowledgeable cat burglar, who knew how to pick a lock, could rob Angel while she slept.

That thought made his chest tighten and for a moment it was hard to breathe. No, he was definitely not using Angel. He liked the woman, liked her too much. Right now wasn’t the time to think about not ever seeing her again once he took down the assassin.

Wolf needed to focus, prepare possible outcomes that might happen once Maggie stopped driving. She gave no indication that she knew she was being followed. Wolf couldn’t imagine the woman of the most notorious assassin of this century and the last not being acutely aware of her surroundings. Maggie never looked over her shoulder or accelerated. She wasn’t trying to lose Wolf. She was just driving. And eventually she would stop. Every possible scenario needed to be carefully plotted out. There was no room for error at this point.

It took a minute to comprehend the popping sound he thought he heard. A moment later when his steering wheel jerked hard to the side and a second
pop
sounded, Wolf let out a spew of obscenities.

“No!” he howled, watching the silver Honda continue to drive along the road ahead of him. “Goddamn it! No!” He pounded the steering wheel with his fists after maneuvering his Escalade to the side of the road.

With the amount of strength it took to keep his SUV on the road but pulled off far enough for no one to hit it, Wolf didn’t doubt for a moment what had happened. Slamming the Escalade into park, he leapt out of the car and glanced at the two completely flat tires on his driver’s side. He quickly turned his attention to the tall, ominous trees stretching beyond his ability to see on both sides of the highway.

“Where are you, motherfucker?” he roared, disturbing the peaceful silence around him.

Wolf squatted by his front tire, which was draping off the rim, a shred of rubber, completely destroyed. If he ran his hand along it, he would find the bullet hole where his tire had been shot. It would be the same with his back tire.

The silver Honda was gone. There wasn’t a sign of anyone in the trees.

“I’m going to catch you!” he bellowed, feeling a warped sense of satisfaction when his yelling created a slight echo among the large trees. “You’re simply biding your time. You’re going down … soon. Real fucking soon,” he growled, not yelling the last words.

Wolf stared at the two flat tires, reluctantly conceding round one to the Mulligan Stew assassin. He had to admit when hunting the best that there was there would be more than one round. Wolf worked to rein in his fury. That was okay. Maybe his pride got snared a bit by having his tires shot out, but Wolf would have the final laugh, when he slapped handcuffs on the assassin and ensured the man never fired a gun again.

Chapter Eleven

“I would much rather be walking in a mall,” Zoey told Ben, and accepted his hand when she followed him over a fallen log.

And not just any log. A small car could park inside the hollowed-out part of the decaying tree.

“A natural garage,” she mused, staring inside the remains of the trunk as she stepped over the collapsed part of it. “Don’t get me wrong. I love the outdoors.” She looked around them. The sun streamed down, working its way past the tall branches of the giant redwoods. It instantly warmed the air and seemed to draw out the aromas from the trees and plants around them. “I’d just rather walk along a boardwalk with shops nearby. I guess I really miss the city.”

“Haven’t you lived in Zounds most of your life?”

“Since I was ten.” They were still holding hands, although it might have been because of the rough terrain. Ben’s large, rough hand held hers tighter when they reached a part of the forest where the narrow path they’d been walking on seemed to disappear. “I’ve left Zounds a few times, with my father. Usually to visit friends of his, and the wives of the businessmen would take me shopping.” She smiled at those rare but fond memories. “They were always really nice to me. I would come home with new dresses and mix and match outfits. I think they liked to play dress up with me,” she said, laughing.

Ben squinted against the sun that continued finding its way down to them in spite of the density of the forest. His eyes were exceptionally light today.

“I can see why they would like that,” he teased, and intentionally let his gaze travel down her body, then back to her face. “Are you still good friends with any of them?”

“If you mean is there anywhere I could go and stay, no.” She looked away when it looked as if he felt sorry for her. She didn’t want him pitying her. “They were Mafia wives.”

“Meaning loyal to their husbands and simply being nice to you.”

“Exactly. That doesn’t mean I’m destitute.”

“God, Zoey. I didn’t think that for a minute. You’re a strong woman in a small package.” Without warning Ben swooped her into his arms and stepped over a creek bed, his long legs clearing the muddy area to the other side where their path became visible again. “And one who likes shopping,” he added, lightening the conversation as easily as he had made it serious.

“I’m not a shopaholic. I wouldn’t mind if I were,” she admitted, and glanced at his profile. “But it’s hard to be when there are all of ten shops in downtown Zounds.”

“It looks like there are more than that.”

“I’m not really into shopping in a hardware store, and I don’t wear eyeglasses.” She made a face at him and thought of the few shops in Zounds that she didn’t frequent. “So I don’t count those.”

Ben laughed and she watched his eyes dance with amusement. Something fluttered in her tummy. Ever since Ben pushed his tall, muscular frame off the couch that morning, which was where he’d slept the night before, he’d been brooding over something. Their hike into the woods behind the cabin had been a good idea. It seemed to have brought him out of whatever glum thoughts had been possessing him.

“Of course not,” he teased.

“You must like the big city,” she said. “How long did you live in Los Angeles?”

“I grew up outside of L.A. It was just easier to find work in the city after I graduated. Have you ever worked in Zounds?”

She made a snorting sound. “Father wouldn’t let me get a job. It wouldn’t look good for him to have his only daughter working for some shopkeeper,” she muttered bitterly.

“But would you like to work?”

“I’m going to have to,” she said, staring ahead at the thick grove of trees. It cooled off instantly and got darker as they followed the narrow path through them. “The cash I have on me isn’t going to last that long. I won’t be able to work in Zounds, though.”

“True,” he said, also looking straight ahead. “You could easily find work in L.A.”

“Are you thinking about going back there?”

“Maybe,” he said slowly. “There still might be work up here, just not in Zounds. There’s nothing for either of us in Zounds. Shame, too. It’s a beautiful, quaint little town. No offense, but the town isn’t big enough for me and your father. And you’re definitely not going into Zounds.”

She shook her head, loving the protector in him and how so incredibly strong that part of his nature was. Eventually he’d see she could stand on her own two feet. All he’d seen so far was the victim, but Zoey was so much more than that. She wanted him to see the part of her that was strong but wasn’t sure how to show him. Especially when she didn’t know that part of herself that well yet. That was going to change, though.

“What about your hometown? Is it a beautiful, quaint little town?”

“No.” He kept his attention on the path ahead of them, reaching out occasionally to move a limb or reach for her when they were forced to step over fallen branches. “I thought you wanted the big city?”

Ben said, “No,” when she mentioned his hometown with so much finality, it made her wonder if there were bad memories there. She wanted to pry and thought of how to get him to talk more about himself. His brooding expression had returned. Zoey only glanced at him for a moment when the path they’d been walking was suddenly eaten up by the thick undergrowth from the dense trees all around them.

“Are your parents still there? I mean, do you still have a place you call home?”

“No. There’s nowhere in particular I call home.” He took her hand again, keeping a firm grip as they worked their way around the trees. “But home doesn’t have to be a physical place. Home is where you’re happy.”

“Then I don’t have a home, either.”

“You’ll find your home, darling. Already you’ve taken the steps in finding that happiness.”

“Yes, I have.”

The ground grew spongy, and Zoey let out a gasp, then laughed, when this time Ben grabbed her at the waist, swooped her off the ground, and made her feel as if she almost flew over the muddy ground. Ben placed her down on more solid earth, which was where the path picked up again.

“You’re quite the tracker,” she praised him, facing him once her boots were firmly on the ground.

After renting the cabin the night before, she and Ben had taken his bike to a nearby town where there was a Wal-Mart. Although nervous about spending her money too fast, Zoey needed to eat. She’d bought some new clothes and the boots she now wore. Her father had always said buying at stores like Wal-Mart was beneath them. Zoey had enjoyed shopping there, though, and liked her new boots. They were comfortable.

Ben moved his hands and clasped them behind her back, pulling her against him. “Maybe we should go look for work together, possibly find that happiness we’re both looking for at the same time.”

“We could check out some of the nearby towns. I haven’t been to most of them,” she admitted, staring up at him and studying his solemn expression. It would be so damn easy to fall for this man. She had to keep reminding herself that she needed to keep her feet on the ground, and not just literally. Although the way Ben looked at her right now, she swore he had every intention of sweeping her right back off them again. “The further from Zounds the better,” she muttered, fighting to keep her head clear.

When he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers, it left little doubt in her mind. There went her feet, and the rest of her, floating right off the ground as he kissed her.

“We could take a drive, explore the area, and see what we think,” he whispered against her lips. “Do you know anyone living outside of Zounds?”

“No,” she whispered, and went up on tiptoe to deepen the kiss.

Instantly her insides swelled. Moisture pooled between her legs. Zoey had never wanted a man like this before. Her insides were instantly molten lava, burning hot and completely out of her control. Even the noticeable chill in the air didn’t cool the heat or lessen the urgent need suddenly enveloping her.

Ben had skills that seemed fine-tuned specifically to her body. His mouth moved over hers, kindling that heat and igniting the flames that burned hottest in the throbbing, swelling folds of her pussy. Pools of moisture soaked the sensitive flesh there. Zoey tilted her head back, opening to him and demanding more. Ben was sweeping her off her feet. She was pretty sure, although at the moment wouldn’t swear to it, that her boots were still on the ground.

When he ran his hands down her back, his fingers tangled in her hair. The sharp pinches at her scalp had her gasping for breath. His hands trailed down her back. Everywhere he touched her, new sensations created tremors inside her.

Ben cupped her ass and brought her to her tiptoes. He crushed her against him as his kiss grew more desperate, more intense. No man should be able to do what Ben was doing to her with just a kiss.

There were good-looking men in Zounds. She’d seen them watch her when she walked down the sidewalk. Occasionally a guy approached her, but usually a seasonal worker who didn’t know who she was. The moment someone who lived in Zounds saw him talking to her, they hurried to inform the poor guy his bad choice in who he’d chosen to flirt with. For the most part, Zoey caught curious stares from guys and that was it. But Ben, he knew who she was, knew the truth about her father, and wasn’t intimidated.

That in itself was a turn-on, although Zoey knew it shouldn’t be. It wasn’t the only reason Ben appealed to her.

For one thing—damn—he was one hell of a good kisser. Ben was obviously shy about talking about himself yet at the same time assertive when it came to making a plan of action. He was a romantic but tough and determined. Maybe he was
just
an unemployed laborer, as her father would have put it, but Ben was honest. He was far from lazy. And something told Zoey that once he found work he would convince any employer to keep him on. There was a charisma about him that would take him far.

“What about your friend at the bookstore. Angel?” Ben asked, once again teasing Zoey’s mouth as his lips brushed over hers.

“What about her?” Zoey wanted his mouth back on hers. The pressure growing deep inside, and the pain of it, mixed with an intoxicating pleasure from his body pressed against hers. It made it hard to think about what they’d been talking about.

“Maybe she knows someone who lives outside of Zounds.”

“I have no idea,” she said.

“Okay.” He straightened, letting go of her but then taking her hand again and guiding them along the now visible path.

The cabin came into view, and Zoey stepped over the last bit of underbrush before entering the clearing behind the small, rustic structure.

“What kind of work did you do in L.A.?” Zoey asked, and began rubbing mud off her boots on the damp grass around the cabin. A light sleet, more apparent now that they were out of the forest, moistened the air and ground.

“Whatever work I could find.” Ben watched her but didn’t make any attempt to clean off his own boots.