Page 4 of Guarding Her Love

“No, you don’t understand!” she says as blue and red lights blaze behind her like a halo. “They’re after me!”

“Who? Who’s after you?”

She whirls around in her seat again as two police cruisers pull onto the block; one of them pulls up very close behind me, and the other comes right up beside me on the passenger side.

Odd behavior for a crash…

“Please!” she whispers, clutching my hand in fright. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get you involved in this, but you have to get me out of here!”

“Wait a minute,” I reply. “Are you a criminal or something?”

“No! And those guys are not cops!”

Suddenly, the cruiser behind me blasts its horn and the cop’s voice blares over the loudspeaker.

“This is the police. Do not attempt to leave the scene. You have a wanted felon in your vehicle and we are going to arrest her. Thank you for your cooperation.”

I glance in my rearview mirror and lock eyes with the cop. He’s young, in full uniform, and looks like he knows what he’s doing.

“They’re not cops!” Joy hisses again. “They’re going to kill me! You have to help me!”

“I gotta do what they ask,” I grumble. “There’s nothing I can do.”

“Please!”

Joy’s voice is breaking my heart; I want to help her but what am I supposed to do? I’m boxed in by two police cruisers. If I run, I’ll be a criminal too.

“Do not exit your vehicle,” the cop’s voice sounds out again from the loudspeaker. “We will be arresting your passenger now. Remain seated with both hands on the steering wheel.”

Something isn’t right. I’ve got a bad feeling about all this. I’ve been trained for combat and dangerous situations, and my instincts aren’t usually wrong. Something about the way the cop behind me is looking at me, and the way he’s speaking, just doesn’t feel…right.

The cop beside me exits his vehicle with his hand on his holster. I glance up at him to see if he’s on his radio; if what they say is true, one of them should have called for backup by now. But neither of them have.

“Please,” Joy pleads with me, tears pooling in her eyes. “Help me!”

I start to shake my head, but that’s when I see it: the cop’s service weapon. Cops generally carry Glocks or 9mm Berettas, but as he draws his gun, I can clearly see a .50 Caliber Desert Eagle – basically a hand cannon. There’s no way a cop would carry one of those. Those are wartime weapons, not standard issue law enforcement.

I glance in the rearview mirror again, and as the cop turns his head slightly, I see the tattoo on his neck: a star commonly worn by members of the Russian mafia. What the hell has this girl gotten herself into?

“Get your head down,” I whisper.

In a flash, I shift the car into reverse and slam on the gas. The cop beside me throws himself out of the way as I yank the wheel hard and crash into his cruiser. The impact knocks Joy back in her seat, and I reach out with my arm and push her head down as the gunshots ring out.

The rearview window shatters as I shift into drive and floor it. The tires squeal as more bullets pepper my car. I duck as low as I can as I slam into Joy’s car, knocking it out of the way, and hammer it, speeding away from the two fake-cops as fast as possible.

I may be making a big mistake by intervening like this, but I know that leaving her at the mercy those two men would be an even bigger mistake – one that I could never forgive myself for.

3

Joy

I can’t believe it. He’s helping me!

Four more shots thud against the car as Dawson speeds away from the two thugs Senator Bryant hired to kill me. I should have seen it coming; I should have known that he was watching me after his laptop went missing last month. It wasn’t me that had it, but I was the first one he suspected. But now that I know what I know, he can’t let me live. I thought that I was done for when I crashed into Dawson’s car, but now I’m sure I wouldn’t be alive without him.

What are the chances that I would end up driving straight into the car of an ex-Marine, a gorgeous ex-Marine who actually seems to have a heart and is willing to put his life on the line for a total stranger? I’m crying, scared out of my mind, my heart is pounding and I’m just about bursting with adrenaline, but when I glance over at him, his strong hands gripping the steering wheel and his chiseled jaw clenched tight with concentration, I’m also swooning.

“Who the fuck are those guys!?” he roars as he yanks the car into a turn that sends me flying into his lap. He catches me with a strong arm and holds me close to him. “Russians?”

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