When he’d left her, the job had been all she had left.
I won’t make the same mistakes with him. Not this time. This time, she called the shots. He owed her.
Time had been kind to Sullivan. He was tall, fit, with powerful shoulders that had only gotten broader in the years they were apart. His dark hair was still thick, and her fingers had itched to slide through those heavy locks.
No, her fingers had just been itching to touch him. Sullivan had always attracted her. Like a moth to the flame, she’d been pulled right to him.
Not the same mistakes. Not!
Celia jumped into her car. She cranked the engine and drove away as fast as she could.
She’d only gone about four blocks before she realized she was being followed. That was four blocks too many. She should have spotted the tail instantly. But she’d been distracted...
By Sullivan.
Her hands tightened around the steering wheel. She’d thought that she’d made a fairly clean escape when she’d sneaked down to Austin. She hadn’t realized that the hunter on her trail had gotten so close.
And dammit, I led him straight to Sullivan.
Because if the guy on her trail had been waiting outside McGuire Securities...then he’d know about Sullivan and her connection to the McGuires. She’d gone to Sullivan for help. She hadn’t intended to drag him straight into her nightmare. At least, not this fast.
She kept her left hand on the wheel even as her right activated the car’s Bluetooth so she could call Sullivan. She’d memorized his cell number days ago—she had a knack for remembering pretty much everything. One of the reasons why she had been a good agent.
Had been.
He answered on the second ring. “Sullivan.”
“It’s me.” She glanced in her rearview mirror. The headlights behind her were getting ever closer. Surely the guy wasn’t going to hit her? Not on a public street.
“Celia, what—”
“Watch your back. I think I brought my trouble straight to your door. I—” The car behind rammed into her, and Celia’s words ended in a sharp scream. Even as that cry escaped, she tightened her grip on the steering wheel and fought to keep her car steady.
“Celia? Celia?” Sullivan roared.
“Watch yourself,” she said.
Her car had hurtled forward at the impact, but, thank goodness, she hadn’t hit anyone or anything else. She shoved the gas pedal down as hard as she could. Her car shot forward, but the vehicle behind her, the one with the shining lights—
Killed the lights.
“Celia, what is happening?” Sullivan demanded.
She cut across the lanes, moving fast. She knew this city well, so she’d be able to disappear. Hopefully. But if that guy hit her again...
What is he thinking? Attacking in public?
“I’ve got company,” she said as she fought to keep both her voice and the car steady. “The kind that isn’t so friendly.”
“Where are you?” he barked.
“Escaping,” she told him honestly. And she was. She’d just turned down a dark side street. Celia turned off her own lights and whipped into the nearest parking garage. “Bye, Sullivan.”
“No, Celia, wait—”
There was no time to wait. There was only time to survive. She was good at surviving. Celia jumped from her car and ran as fast as she could toward the shadows of the parking garage. She wouldn’t have much time. She could already hear the engine of the other vehicle. An SUV waited a few feet away, and she rushed behind it, crouching down just as the squeal of tires reached her ears.
I knew my time was limited... I just didn’t realize how close the hunter was to me.
Her heart slammed into her chest as the car braked just a few feet away. She reached into her boot and pulled out the knife she still kept strapped to her ankle.
Some habits sure did die hard.
She slipped around the SUV, keeping low and making certain not to make so much as a sound. The way she figured it, Celia had three options.
Option one...she could try to break into one of the parked cars and get a ride out of there. She would have to switch cars and temporarily borrow another if she went with the escape-in-a-vehicle option, because her car—with its busted bumper—wasn’t going to get her far.
Option two...her eyes narrowed as she searched the garage’s dim interior. Instead of stealing—um, borrowing—another car, she could rush for the nearest exit and escape on foot. Escaping on foot gave her a maneuverability advantage, but it sure wasn’t the fastest option.
And, finally, she had option three.
She could fight.
Since she was armed with a knife and she had no idea what type of weapon the hunter had, fighting might not be—
“I know you’re out there, Ms. James,” a man’s booming voice called. “So why don’t you just save us both some time? Come out here...and let me put a bullet in your lovely head.”
So he has a gun. Good to know.
“Because I have only one directive. Kill you. And I won’t stop, not until you’re dead.”
That news was just rather unfortunate. Too bad for him, though. The unknown man wasn’t going to achieve his directive any time soon—she had no intention of dying.
Her gaze slid to the red Exit sign she’d just spotted.
Knife versus gun wasn’t such a good fighting option.
So I think I’ll go with my second choice. Time to run...
* * *
“CELIA? CELIA?” SULLIVAN ROARED. But she wasn’t answering him. The line had gone dead.
He shoved the phone back into his pocket, grabbed the white envelope she’d given him and then he rushed out of his office. He was in the elevator before he realized—hell, he had no idea where Celia was. He only knew she was in trouble. That she’d called him—telling him to watch his back.
And she’d screamed.
She could be hurt. And I don’t know where she is. I can’t help her.
The elevator took him to the ground floor. He rushed outside. Looked to the left. To the right. He didn’t see anyone, but he wasn’t going to stand there and keep making himself a target. He hurried to his car. Jumped inside.
“Celia...” Sullivan whispered her name as he cranked the vehicle and pulled away. “Where in the hell are you?”
When he got home, Sullivan locked his door and reset his alarm. He’d driven around the damn city for far too long, searching in dark alleys, looking for any sign of Celia before he’d had to give up and head to his place.
He was sure that she’d been involved in some kind of accident. He’d heard what he thought was the crash and crunch of an impact when they’d been talking, but no accidents had been reported—he’d double-checked that with one of his contacts at the PD.
Celia had seemingly vanished.
Sighing, he turned on the lights. Tomorrow, he’d search for her again. He would find her.
“You’re starting to go soft,” Celia said, her voice calm and clear. “I mean, really, you didn’t even know I was here?”
He