Page 33 of On the Chase
She turned on the car. “Don’t make me regret this.”
“Or have to turn this car around,” Hugh joked.
“Damn straight.”
* * *
Silence fell over the car as Grace turned off the kennel driveway and onto the county road that led down the mountain to Monroe. Hugh watched her drive for a few seconds, enjoying the opportunity to look his fill without her snarling at him. Then he started to miss the snarling.
“How old are you, anyway?”
Grace gave him a sideways look before refocusing on the twisting, narrow road. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly enough to whiten her fingers. Clearly she wasn’t that comfortable with mountain driving. “Is this another attempt to figure out my birth date?”
“No.” Hugh put as much innocence as possible into his expression as she shot him another suspicious glance. “This is an attempt to figure out why you’re driving like you’re ninety years old. I figured it was possible you might actually be an elderly person with really good genes. Or an excellent plastic surgeon.”
“If I didn’t have to keep both hands on the wheel so we don’t drive off the cliff and plunge to our fiery deaths,” she responded in a conversational tone, “I’d punch you so hard, Hugh Murdoch.”
He couldn’t help it; he laughed. Settling back in his seat, he prepared himself for a lengthy drive to town. At least he got to stare at her. Grace was startlingly beautiful, even when—or maybeespeciallywhen—she was making violent threats against his person. That kiss outside the VFW ran through his brain. Until someone shot at them, it had been incredible, and so intense that it had wiped his brain of every logical thought.
Her hair was caught up in an untidy bun, and the lines of her neck and jaw looked so vulnerable. Now that he knew she wasn’t just dodging a scumbag ex-boyfriend—which had been bad enough—but was actually running from the likes ofMartin Jovanovic, his protective instincts had kicked into high gear. Although he’d never met Jovanovic, the name was unpleasantly familiar to every member of law enforcement. After all, Jovanovic was like the king of criminals, heading up a crooked empire from his castle in California. The man seemed to have his finger in every sordid pie, from human trafficking to drug running to illegal weapon sales.
When he looked at Grace and thought about how Jovanovic wanted her dead, Hugh was unable to breathe. The weight of it settled heavily on his chest, making it nearly impossible to draw in air. He must’ve made a sound, some kind of strangled attempt at an inhale, because Grace shot him another glance. This time, it was full of concern rather than irritation.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” The word came out rough, but he cleared his throat and ignored it. When he glanced out the window, searching for a distraction from Grace, her hotness, and her ruthless enemy, Hugh saw that they were approaching Baker Street. The Rack and Ruin stop would be six blocks east. “Turn left.”
To his surprise, she did what he asked without question.
“Pull over next to that house with the cedar siding.”
“That’s every house on this block.”
It probably had been too much to ask for her docile streak to last. If he was being honest, he didn’t really want it to. He liked her sassiness. “Not every house. There’s a gray one.”
“That one is gray because it has reallyoldcedar siding.”
“Fine. Just pull over next to that one up there.”
“Which one?”
“The one with the mailbox.”
“Are you kidding me right now?”
He kind of was. It was just so much fun to bait her. “Of course not. Is it my fault that you can’t follow simple directions?”
In response, she snarled at him. If her expression was any indication, she was thinking about punching him. It probably wasn’t in his best interest to provoke her.
A mental image of that earlier kiss jumped into his head, and he shifted in his seat. On the other hand, maybe he did need to get her riled up, if another kiss like that was the result.
Grace pulled the car to the curb with an annoyed lurch. “What next?” she asked.
Abruptly reminded of the reason they were lurking on Baker Street, Hugh reached for his door handle. As soon as he opened his door, he could hear the rumbling of unmuffled motorcycle engines. Even though he wasn’t part of the bust, adrenaline still flooded through him, making everything sharper and brighter. He surged out of the car.
His leg chose that moment to protest, and he had to grab the top of the door to keep from sprawling on the street. He scowled down at his thigh, mentally cursing the injury. Because of that stupid gunshot wound, he was on the sidelines of what could be a huge bust. Frustration warred with caution, and caution lost. It usually did with him. “Let’s get a little closer.”
Ignoring Grace’sis-that-really-a-good-idealook, he leashed up Lexi. By her eager, ready posture, the dog was obviously feeling the same excitement he was. As she climbed out of the car, Grace looked significantly less enthused than Lexi. She locked the doors, and Hugh snorted.
