He was still trying to process the fact she hadn’t taken off when she helped him drag the shirt on so it covered his wound. “Where the hell did you find money in that getup to pay for these?”
She dropped flip-flops on the ground, slid her feet into them, and then tugged him back into the crowd. “I didn’t. Move fast.”
Great. Now he could add theft to her list of crimes.
He followed as she quickened her pace, gritting his teeth with every step that sent pain spiraling up his bad leg. Rounding the corner, he spotted Pier 52 and the ferries that linked Seattle with Bremerton and Bainbridge Island.
She was right. A ferry out of here would get them far enough from the city where those goons couldn’t find them, but getting on one wasn’t going to be as easy as it sounded. Security guards roamed the area, peering into cars, stopping pedestrians. Of course security would be on heightened status after that bombing downtown. He scanned the area, then realized that could work to their advantage.
He reached back for his wallet, but Eve’s hand on his arm stopped him. “No, don’t. Drenched dollar bills are going to get us stopped, and if those guys figured out who you are, I guarantee they’re now tracking your credit cards.”
“We have to get tickets.”
“No, we don’t. Because we’re going through there.”
She nodded toward the passenger reentry gate on the Bainbridge side of the lot. Two security guards manned the entrance. One was talking to passengers as they passed in and out of the gate, and the other was searching a woman’s bag. Beyond the gate, cars were lined up, those of passengers who’d already bought tickets and were waiting to board the ferry that hadn’t yet arrived.
“How the hell do you plan to get through there?”
“With a lot of BS and my world-class boobs.”
When he shot her a look, she added, “The kiosks don’t work, and they don’t give out tickets anymore. Security has definitely waned the past few years. Passengers park in line and then wander out because the wait can be up to forty-five minutes. Normally, there isn’t even anyone in the booth, but today they’re obviously being more cautious.”
She’d clearly been in Seattle awhile. That thought didn’t settle his nerves. “So how—”
The warmth of her palm against his chest rather than the way she tugged on his shirt cut off his words. “Just play along.”
They waited in line until it was their turn, then stepped up next to the guard with the thin moustache manning the gate. Thankfully, their clothing had dried enough so they didn’t look like they’d just crawled out of the Sound. Eve turned a charming smile the Moustache’s way and waited as he focused on her breasts, squeezing her biceps at her sides, Zane noticed, to push them out even more.
No way the guard would fall for that.
Moustache stared a moment too long and, realizing his mistake, looked up at Eve’s face with a scowl. “Stamp?”
“Oh, we didn’t get one.” Eve’s brow furrowed, and she looked toward Zane, then back at the guard. “Were we supposed to?”
“Only stamped passengers allowed back through the gate.”
“In all the chaos, someone must have forgotten to stamp our hands.” She nodded toward the parked automobiles without looking. “That’s our baby-blue Volkswagen.”
She rattled off the Oregon license plate number, then stepped close and gripped Zane’s bad arm, right above the makeshift bandage, rubbing that delectable breast against his skin in the process. Pain shot through his arm, followed by a heat that felt way too damn good.
“We drove up from Eugene yesterday. We’re on our honeymoon. Davey here already got us in a little fender bender and dented the back wheel well when we parked over at Lake Washington to go jet-skiing, and it’s going to cost a fortune to fix. We’d hate to get stuck here in Seattle when we have a beach rental waiting for us. We just went to get a drink while we waited for the ferry. Can’t you make an exception just this once?”
Moustache frowned, and when Eve let go of Zane and pushed her breasts out again, his gaze dropped to her cleavage once more.
Dumbass. A major bombing only miles away and this guy had boobs on the brain instead of his fucking job.
Eventually, Moustache looked from her to the other guard, then nodded for him to go check the vehicle.
The ancient VW bug was parked six cars in, hard to see among the other vehicles. The second guard jogged over to look, then came back and nodded at Moustache. “Looks like they hit a pole. License matches.”
Moustache eyed her again, from her flip-flops to her bare midriff and tied shirt, hovering a little too long on her breasts once more. After several seconds’ hesitation, he reached for a stamp from the window counter behind him. “Hold out your hands. And the next time you come through, make sure you get stamped before you leave, or you won’t be allowed back in.”
Eve smiled a sickly sweet grin. “Thank you so much. You totally just made our day. Right, Davey?”
Zane worked for a smile but knew it came out more as a scowl. If she didn’t let go of his arm, he was going to scream. And if that guy leered at her breasts once more, he was gonna pop the bastard in the nose.
Eve tugged Zane through the gate and finally let go of his arm. “See? Told ya.”
He wiped the sweat from his brow and followed her out onto the dock. “Your talents are staggering.”
She leaned back against the hood of the VW while they waited for the ferry. “Photographic memory comes in handy now and then. As you know.”
He did know. It was part of the whole spook gig. “What now? The real hippie owners are bound to show up at any time.”
“True, but we’re not staying here. We’re heading there.” She nodded toward a camper RV perched on the back of a beat-up truck in line four vehicles up. “And eventually, we’re going for that.” She pointed toward an ambulance parked two rows over. “I gotta get that arm of yours bandaged before infection sets in.”
Zane’s gaze drifted to the out-of-service ambulance, which looked like heaven to him. There had to be narcotics of some kind in there.
He glanced past the ambulance. Guards with bomb-sniffing dogs moved between vehicles. They waited until security moved past the ambulance, then wove through cars until they reached the back of the RV. Lights from above shone down over the pier in the early evening light. Far off in the distance, the approaching ferry grew bigger on the horizon. Luckily, the driver wasn’t in the cab yet, but they had only minutes before he or she returned.
Eve slinked around the back of the camper, reached up for the door handle, and whispered, “Yes!” Zane checked to make sure no one was watching, then climbed into the back after her and closed the door.
The camper was musty and dark. A bathroom closet gave way to a kitchen sink on the left. A too-tight table and bench seats sat to the right. Ahead and up three steps, a bed loomed above the canopy of the truck, and thick denim curtains covered the small windows.
Fatigue settled in as Zane eyed the messy comforter and mattress he knew couldn’t be comfortable but right now looked like an inviting cloud. He’d been awake going on twenty-four hours, fueled by revenge and adrenaline, and as light-headed as he felt, he knew the blood loss from the wound in his arm was catching up with him. He swayed on his feet.
Eve’s hand landed against his chest. “Whoa, big guy. Careful there. Archer? Are you okay?”
No, he wasn’t okay. Her hand felt way too damn good, even through the thin T-shirt. And he knew he was seriously losing it if he was reacting to her. He’d gotten over Evelyn Wolfe the day she’d turned her back on America. Had gotten way over her the day she’d set his team up in Guatemala. He was only with her now because he wanted answers. And then wanted to see her pay.