Page 48 of Waging War
Hazel.
“What the hell?” I watch her sway from the ledge before gracefully dropping to her feet.
She grips the straps of a backpack as she pokes her head around the corner of the building. When she’s sure the coast is clear, she takes off toward the opposite end of their lot. A line of blinking red dots is scattered across the property facing the road. She tiptoes behind them, expertly staying out of view of their security system.
It hits me then that I was right to think she doesn’t want to be here, and damn if that doesn’t swell my chest with pride. I shouldn’t care whether she’ll be happy to see me or not, but to the depth of my soul, I do.
Hazel creeps along behind the townhouses, pausing here and there to listen until she reaches the side of their garage. It’s hard not to bolt across the field after her, but I wait a few minutes longer, making sure no one follows behind her.
Reaching an external breaker box, she crams a screwdriver beneath the metal door and cracks it open. Flipping several switches, Hazel waits for the camera lights to wink out before pulling something from inside her pocket and slipping through the side door.
Shit. She’s gone.
Now that I don’t have to risk being caught by the security system, I turn the engine over and drive out onto the dirt road that winds around the front of their property. The full moon bathes the big metal garage in an ominous glow, highlighting the two garage doors facing the road.
At the end of the drive, I cut the headlights and wait for any sign of Hazel to emerge.
“What are you doing in there?” I whisper, anxious as hell to finally see her.
One of the smaller garage doors begins to retract. The slow, jerky movements of the door being rolled back manually has me snagging my bag before jumping out of the truck and jogging toward her.
Hazel grunts, blowing her loosening braid out of her face with white puffs of air.
“Hazel,” I call to her quietly.
Eerie silence rides the chilled breeze as I stop short. The last thing I want to do is compromise myself and have Kenny tearing after us with a shotgun, so I halt closer to the end of the drive.
The start of a motorcycle wheel slowly rolls out of the garage, followed by the midnight armor of Hazel’s Harley and then the hellion herself.
Her glowing eyes find mine almost immediately.
“Ben?”
My breathing slows as I watch her fully emerge. She eyes me curiously, keeping her hands steady on the handlebars of her Harley. A black leather jacket and matching pants hug her figure, and I shiver. I wish I could blame it on the chill of the night and not this ceaseless tugging in my chest.
This woman was made for sin, and I’m the sinner.
She pushes her bike down the long driveway, stopping just a couple of feet away. We’re far enough from the compound that our voices shouldn’t carry, but we aren’t far enough to not be seen should someone step out for a late-night stroll.
“Wait here,” she puffs before propping up her bike on the kickstand and then trotting back up to close the garage.
Moments later, she’s jogging back to me, checking over her shoulder before tipping her pretty face up to mine. Even in the dead of night, the energy in the air snaps viciously between us. It’s as if Mother Nature herself is taunting me.
“I’m starting to think you’re truly senile,” she hisses. “What if someone saw you?”
My usual confidence wavers. “I came to break you out of here.”
Hazel tilts her head as she considers me, and then the barest hint of a smile breaks her lips. She releases the stand on the bike and nods to the bag hanging over my shoulder. “Whatcha got in there?”
“Just some stuff. And you know… things.”
“Stuff and things?”A single brow raises.
I angle away from her so she can’t see inside the bag I forgot to zip.
“Yeah, well… I wasn’t exactly sure how this was all going to shake out,” I mumble.
“I see.” Something like amusement glitters in her gaze as she slowly nods. “And how’s that rescue attempt going for you so far?”
