Dangerous.
I don’t know him.
“You haven’t said anything,” Antony noted as he pulled the vehicle to a stop near what looked like a rundown bar. They’d left the main streets of Atlanta. Headed out through a series of snaking turns in order to get to their destination.
“What was I supposed to say? I’m kind of in shock seeing the real you.”
“The real me? You’ve always known the real me.” He killed the engine and turned toward her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
She unbuckled her seatbelt and made a vague flutter with her fingers toward him. “You’ve got this whole—I’m-bad-and-kick-ass vibe dripping from you.”
“Oh, thanks for noticing.”
“Thanks for—” Her nostrils flared as she exhaled. Heavily. Very, very heavily. “So that was your intent.”
“Of course. We’re not exactly going for a stroll at a ball tonight. So I’m being a little rougher. Different personas for different situations. By the way, love the look you’ve got. I think we match well.”
She’d changed before leaving, too. A simple change, though. Not like she’d adopted a new personality. She’d switched to jeans and a sweater. “How in the hell do we match?”
“Those jeans hug your killer ass and make your legs look like they stretch forever. Sexy as fuck. And that sweater dips over your breasts and slides tight around your waist. Your hair is sleek, and your red lips are hotter than hell. You’ll have every guy in there drooling.”
Exceedingly doubtful. “I’m not here to make anyone drool. I’m here to do my job.”
“You make me drool,” he muttered.
Or at least she thought that was what he muttered. “What did you say?”
“Our target is inside. The Corvette is right there.” He pointed toward the alley.
“What’s the game plan here?”
“We go in, find our guy, and I convince him to have a private talk with us outside. Simple enough.”
“In my experience, things are never as simple as you might expect.” A lesson she’d learned early in life. Her father had been a cop—chief of police back home in Texas. She’d grown up watching him protect and defend, and after majoring in criminal justice in college, she’d enrolled in the FBI Academy. But it hadn’t taken her long to realize that wasn’t the right fit for her.
Too many rules. Too much red tape. Too many starchy suits and people who wanted to toe the line.
She’d gotten into private security. Worked her way up fast. Then she’d landed what she thought was the job of the century. Head of security for Shark Gaming and Design. She’d thought that she’d gotten the job because she was qualified. Because Antony had been impressed with her assessment of his building. But now…
Jeez. Did he just hire me because he thought I would be the easiest candidate to fool? The youngest one, the one who was hungriest for the job? The one who—
“I couldn’t ID the driver of the van. He had on a ski mask in all the traffic cam footage. We need to be extra vigilant because he could be inside with his knife-wielding buddy,” Antony said. His fingers tapped against the steering wheel. “Hold up. Would you look at that? I think it’s our lucky night. Our target is walking to his ride right now.”
He was. The guy with the curly, dark hair had just stumbled from the ramshackle building. Music and laughter followed in his wake before the bar’s door slammed shut.
“Let’s do this.” Antony shoved open his car door. He didn’t even wait for her.
Crap. The man had serious issues with having a bodyguard.
She leapt from the SUV and rushed after him. Ella grabbed his arm. And—
Hell.
The target had just looked up. His gaze collided with hers. A flickering streetlamp shown down on them, so she could see his startled—then furious—expression.
Made. “Uh, yeah, something you overlooked with your simple plan,” she snapped. “He just recognized me from earlier, and I don’t think he’s in the mood for a fun little chat.”
The target ran for his Corvette. Antony and Ella gave chase. They flew over the broken pavement as they rushed after him.
“Stop!” Antony shouted. “I want to talk to you, dammit! I want—”
Bam.
At the sound of the first gunshot, Ella stopped racing after the target. Instead, she turned and threw her body against Antony’s. She collided hard into him, just as she’d done before when she thought he was being threatened.
Bam.
Another gunshot blast. She and Antony were already on the ground, hidden behind a pick-up truck with extremely large tires. She straddled Antony even as she grabbed for her weapon.
“Ella, what in the hell?” Antony glared up at her.
“Stay down.”
“No damn way. I am not—”
She lowered her face to his. “Bullets, Antony. Someone was shooting at you. Keep your ass down.”
“But our perp is getting away!”
“Not on my watch.” She gave him one more don’t-move glare, then she took off.
“Ella!” His shout followed her, but it didn’t slow her down.
She was checking the scene. Looking for the shooter. Trying to get eyes on the target and—
Ella sucked in a sharp breath. She ran for the Corvette.
“Ella, what the fuck! You need cover!” Antony blasted—from right behind her.
He’d followed her? She hadn’t heard even a rustle of his footsteps. “Get down!” Ella snapped at him as she fell to her knees beside the Corvette—beside the man who was on the ground, bleeding out from the two gaping holes in his chest. “Call an ambulance!” Ella cried out because this was bad. So very, very bad.
The man on the ground—the man who’d been their target—was struggling to breathe. His eyes were wide. Terrified. His breath panted in and out. Short, shallow breaths.
She searched for the shooter again. Didn’t see him but—hell. A few people had spilled out from the bar. When you heard gunshots, you weren’t supposed to run toward them. These folks had. And, extra wonderful, they were gaping at her as she crouched over a bleeding man with a gun gripped in her hand. She quickly put down the gun. “Call for help!” she yelled. Either one of those people could call for help or Antony could—someone had to get an ambulance to the scene.
Then she heard Antony’s low voice as he talked to someone. He’s getting help.
Ella put her hands onto the man’s chest. His blood immediately seeped through her fingers. As she assessed him, Ella knew there would be no stopping the blood. He was bleeding out too quickly. One of the shots looked like it was dangerously near his heart. His skin had already turned chalk white.
His lips moved. Not with a desperate gasp for breath, but…as if he were trying to speak.
“You need to save your strength,” Ella told him. The people who’d trickled outside were closing in on her. She heard rumbles…
“She shot him.”
“She had the gun. She shot that guy!”
The target’s lips moved again.
Ella put her head closer to his mouth. She was trying to make out what he was saying to her.