As he disassembled her phone, he said, “There’s a bank inside. We both need to pull out the maximum amount we can from the ATM. When we leave, we’ll be traveling on cash to California—gas, food, lodging, the works—and we won’t be able to pull out more. We’ll need to grab clothes and toiletries while we’re inside, and we need to be quick.”
She nodded, briefly examining the crushed sunglasses in her bag before discarding them in the center console. “Are we hiding from the good guys, too?”
“For now.” He tossed her phone onto the rear seat beside his. “Let’s go.”
Layla climbed out of the car with a racing heart. Her palms were damp and her breathing shallow. When she rounded the trunk, he caught her by the hand and set off at a brisk pace. They entered the store and it felt like every eye was on them. Her ears were still ringing, whether from the explosion or her own thundering blood, she didn’t know. Her grip on him tightened.
Giving her a reassuring squeeze, Brian leaned in close. She saw the words on his lips more than heard them. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”
He’d said the same thing to her while she’d quaked with her first orgasm, his breath humid against the slick folds of her pussy. A shiver accompanied the memory, still so vivid despite the years that had passed. He pulled free of her grasp and draped his arm over her shoulders, careful to keep the loose tail of his unbuttoned flannel shirt over his holster.
“You’re in shock,” he murmured with his lips to her ear, sending another tremor through her body. “Just hang on to me.”
The warmth of his leanly muscled frame sank into her side and she soaked it up, her arm wrapping around his waist. He wore Dr. Martens and loose-fitting jeans with a super-soft white jersey T-shirt. His green, tan, and aqua flannel was so attractive she would have stolen it if they were still together.
Brian got a shopping cart and led her through the store with swift efficiency, thinking of everything from underwear and toothbrushes to disposable cell phones and two small wheeled suitcases. They separated briefly, standing across the aisle from one another while she grabbed clothes and he picked up razors. They were in the checkout line in less than twenty minutes. The ATM was next, where they withdrew a collective fifteen hundred dollars. They exited out the front entrance instead of through the garden center, and he stopped by a bench near the main doors to cram most of the clothes in one carry-on and the rest of the items in the other.
“We’re going to cross the street to that convenience store.” He reached for the packed bags, but paused, studying her. Whatever he saw caused him to straighten and reach for her. He cupped her nape in one hand, her hip in the other, and pulled her close. Their foreheads touched. “You’re being so brave, baby. I’m proud of you.”
Her eyes stung. “I’m not a little girl anymore, Brian.”
“Believe me, Layla. I know that.” Releasing her, he dug two baseball caps out of the bag and slid one onto her head. His fingers sifted through the dark tresses draped over her shoulders, as if he couldn’t help himself. “When we get to the car, I want you to change your shirt and tie up your hair.”
“Okay.”
He grabbed the bags and set off, heading in the opposite direction of the Civic he’d commandeered. They made their way across the street, his stride smooth and easy, but she knew he was sharply focused on their surroundings. He was always alert, but he was inclined to be hypervigilant with her. Not just because she was a protected witness, but because she was his best friend ’s younger sister and the woman he’d once loved.
He walked directly to a beat-up Bronco parked off to the side of the convenience store and tossed the bags through the lowered rear window. “Hop in.”
When he slid behind the driver’s seat, he handed her a body armor vest he’d pulled out of the cargo space.
They were back on I-70 in less than five minutes.
Brian took the cap off his head and tossed it on the floorboard behind Layla’s seat. She was already pulling her Henley off, as comfortable in her own skin as any woman had a right to be. As she bared a tealcolored lace bra that perfectly matched her irises, he could barely keep his eyes on the road.
“So the guy whose car this is,” she began. “A deputy? Or a SEAL?”
“Can’t he just be a civilian?”
“Not with you. You live and breathe the job—on duty and off.”
Which was why she’d left him. “Deputy.”
She dug into the plastic bag of clothes he’d set between her feet. “What do we do now?”
Now that they were on the move, his tension eased up a fraction, although he knew he wouldn’t be fully relaxed until after Layla testified. Looking over, he saw the bullet-hole scar on her back and the rapidly bruising flesh on her elbows from when he’d tackled her to the ground. His teeth grit again. “We’re going to drive straight through to San Diego. Fourteen hours a day on the road will get you there on time. I know that’s not going to give you much opportunity to go over your testimony with the assistant U. S. attorney.”
“Well . . .” She exhaled harshly and straightened. “Missing witness prep is better than death.”
Fucking understatement of the year, but so like her. The daughter and sister of Navy SEALs, she’d been raised to be a straight shooter. The day she’d turned eighteen she had marched right up to him at her birthday party and tossed a gauntlet at his feet—Teasing’s over, Bri. Put out or get shut out. I’m not hurting for dates.
Prior to that day, he’d told himself to wait a little longer. Let her go to college, spread her wings. He knew once he had her, their future together would be cemented for both of them. She’d be his and he would be hers ’til death parted them.
But faced with the possibility of seeing her with other guys, laughing and playing and fucking other guys ...
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Tell me what happened.”
She glanced at him, then yanked a new shirt over her head. She slid the vest on over it with impatient but practiced movements. “What are you talking about?”