Page 50 of Wicked Ambition

This car was the nicest of the three, although it had to be twenty years old. There were only a few light dings on the exterior, although some of the silver paint had flaked off. The best benefit, as far as Ayla was concerned, was the comfortable seats.

They were nearly at the one-hour mark on this trek and it didn’t appear as if they were close to their destination yet.

Oz kept his attention focused on the road. He warned her he wouldn’t chat, that he wanted to concentrate on his driving. She’d wondered about it until the first logging truck roared by at a speed fast enough to cause the sedan to shake. There was a steady stream of trucks, not only carrying logs, but other types, too. Everyone was in a hurry, or so it seemed.

Except for Oz.

She lost track of how many vehicles passed them. Some drivers added a horn or a one-finger salute or both as they zoomed by. The road ahead was empty for the moment and a glance in the side view mirror showed Ayla no one was on their bumper, so she took a chance. “Why are you driving so slowly?”

“I’m doing the speed limit.” His gaze remained on the road.

“Nobody else is. Why are you?” Straightening in her seat, she shifted more toward him.

There was a moment of silence. “Because you’re in the car. I promised I’d keep you and our baby safe.”

Ayla contemplated that as they started up the steep hill with the low clouds. A truck going in the other direction topped the rise and headed toward them. It was over the line and into their lane. Oz swerved onto the shoulder, but it was narrow and the berm stopped them from going any farther off the road. She clutched the door handle, and scrunching her eyes closed, tried not to scream.

The sedan rocked so violently, she bit her lip to stay quiet. Only when the motion stopped did she open her eyes again. Somehow, they’d survived.

“That,” Oz said calmly as he moved back into the lane and continued up the hill, “is why I don’t want to chat.”

She wished she could take the near-miss in stride the way he seemed to be, but her heart continued to race. Now sheunderstood why he drove the speed limit. If they’d been flying up the hill, Oz might not have had enough time to react.

Enough time to get them out of the way.

It took a good twenty minutes for Ayla to stop trembling. When she finally regained control, she turned farther toward the driver’s side. Oziah West, mercenary. He looked intimidating and dangerous. He didn’t look like someone any sane woman would trust.

And yet…

And yet he was putzing along at the speed limit to ensure her safety. Despite the heat that continued to arc between them, Oz stayed on his side of the bed last night. He hadn’t tried to use the situation to his advantage. Before she woke up, he’d gone out and returned with toast for her because he read it helped with morning sickness. He’d run his own breakfast menu past her to make sure nothing would make her queasy before he ordered room service.

There were bigger things, too.

He stepped in to shield her from the gang at the bus station. One man against more than a dozen. The odds hadn’t stopped him from coming to her aid. The second rescue on Friday had been every bit as risky for him, but he fought those Russian men who thought she was her sister. He’d gotten her out of the hotel and taken her somewhere he called a safe house.

Oz had stuck by her side ever since then. He even volunteered to help her find her twin. He didn’t have to do this. She couldn’t pay him, and he never asked her for anything.

It wasn’t because of the baby. Even before the pregnancy test, he’d been protective of her. In fact, they’d met in that hotel bar because Oz saw some guy bothering her and came over to help.

Honorable.

That wasn’t a word Ayla would have attributed to a mercenary, but the more time she spent with Oz, the more thelabel fit. That raised more questions. He’d dropped a bomb about his parents being in prison but provided no details. She wanted those details. Maybe she even needed them. At some point, Oz would surely want to introduce his child to its grandparents.

Ayla opened her mouth to quiz him, remembered almost getting smashed by the truck, and tabled this discussion for a better—safer—opportunity. This wasn’t the only topic they were going to address either. If he planned to co-parent with her, she needed to know how often he’d be around. Hell, she needed a lot more information, period, about the man who’d fathered her baby.

No matter how reticent he was.

She squared her shoulders. It was up to her to protect this child. Even if that meant shielding him or her from their own father.

Oz pulledto a stop in front of the inn in San Isidro but left the car running. He tried to release his grip on the steering wheel, but his muscles didn’t want to relax enough to let go. He’d made the trip between Trujillo and this part of the country often—the drug lord’s hacienda was nearby—and this was the first time it had taken over two hours. Normally it was a ninety-minute drive.

Normally, though, he only had himself to worry about.

He turned his head, his gaze settling on Ayla. She’d fallen asleep about fifteen minutes ago. It still took him a moment to get used to seeing her with dark hair, despite her wearing the wig for two days. Oz forced himself to let go of the steering wheel, but he made no move to wake her up or to turn off the car.

Bringing her to San Isidro had its own level of risk. The innkeeper knew he was Special Forces, so walking in with Ayla and claiming her as his wife was going to raise eyebrows, but Señor Alvarez was retired from the presidential brigade, Puerto Jardin’s Special Forces. Oz could count on his discretion.

There were two problems, though. First, the innkeeper would think that Oz’s wife would know the truth about his career. Second, Señora Alvarez had put two and two together and knew what he was, too. He’d considered it and decided it was worth the small risk to keep his Pollita out of trouble.

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