“I enjoy the walk,” she assured him as she glanced along the street for oncoming cars. “Besides, I have to do something to rid myself of the calories from those sweet rolls you insisted on ordering more of.”
Slade chuckled at that as his arm curled around his wife’s shoulders.
“If you’re sure.” He watched the street as well, his gaze sweeping the area in a way Kenni recognized well. He could probably describe everything he saw in exact detail this time tomorrow, she knew.
“I’m sure.” She stepped from the curb, throwing her hand up in a careless wave.
As she stepped from the curb a sedan pulled out from a side street. In the second it took her to reach the halfway point, it was nearly on her. The acceleration was fast and as quick as she could move, Kenni didn’t know if she could make it.
As though in slow motion she glimpsed the driver, flat dark eyes, carelessly grown beard and long hair paired with sunglasses. She would know him if she ever saw him again.
If she survived.
If she could just get across …
Her foot slid on the blacktop as she tried to push herself out of the way. It was too far to jump. She couldn’t get enough traction with her sandals to get out of the way. She was too short to clear the distance otherwise. She made a mental note, if she lived, never to wear the damned things again.
She could feel the summer heat like a brush of fire against her flesh, hear the car speeding closer, and knew she wasn’t going to make it. She couldn’t make it …
A manacle latched around her waist, the hard jerk of her body taking her breath as she felt herself flying through the air, held so close to a hard, powerful body that when they hit the pavement she barely felt it. He cushioned her against his chest before he rolled them both behind a truck parked at the side of the street.
The car hit the curb, drove over it, then sped away with a scream of tires as Kenni stared at the brick facade of the building no more than a few feet from her, and listened to Jazz curse like a sailor only wished he could, behind her.
The hiatus was over, she thought fatalistically. They knew she was here now. They knew, and they wouldn’t stop until they killed her, just as they had killed her mother and her uncle.
And she still hadn’t figured out who it was or why they wanted her dead.
* * *
Fuck him. He was shaking.
Jazz could feel the pure terror that sent him tearing across the street to lift Annie from her feet and all but throw both of them across the distance to the front of the truck parked several feet from the end of the curb. He’d felt the vehicle as it brushed past them, missing them by scant inches as it swerved to catch them.
He’d find that bastard and when he did he’d make damned certain he was the one who skinned the man alive.
Fuck.
With his arms wrapped tight around the little imposter he held to his chest, cushioning her against him, the thought of the damage that could have been done to her delicate body caused his guts to cramp. He didn’t think he’d ever been so damned scared in his life.
The second he’d seen the car accelerate toward her he’d known what was happening. There was no hesitating, no pause; he’d just run for her. If he had to take the hit to throw her across the road then by God that was what he’d do. The thought of seeing her broken …
He was sweating.
Adrenaline was pounding through his veins, rushing through his senses, and the horror of what could have happened flashed through his mind.
He could have lost her.
“Jazz! Fuck!” Slade knelt in front of them as Jessie rushed in behind him. “Goddammit, are you okay?”
“Did you recognize the son of a bitch?” Jazz hadn’t had time to look. He’d been moving too fast, a haze of red in front of his eyes as the certainty of the fact that if he didn’t move faster, then Annie would die, descended upon him.
“No tags on the car.” Slade’s gray eyes were dark, filled with anger and concern as he stared at Annie. “Annie, sweetie, are you okay?”
He reached out as though to touch her.
“No!” She flinched before trying to pull herself from Jazz’s arms. Twisting toward him, she stared up at him, enraged. “Let me go now!” she hissed.
“Settle down, dammit,” he growled. “Let me get you the hell out of here, then we’ll fight it out…”
“Someone call an ambulance,” one of the onlookers called out.
“No ambulance…” Panic was edging into her voice as she began struggling harder. “Let me go.”
“Settle down, Annie, or you’re going to draw more attention than you have to. Is that what you want?” Jazz snarled as he moved quickly to his feet, pulling her up with him.
“I’ll get the truck,” Slade muttered as more onlookers began crowding around them.
Jazz didn’t bother waiting. He wanted her away from the gathering crowd now. He could feel the tension in her body, her muscles tightening to the point that he knew she’d begin fighting to be free if he wasn’t very careful.
Instinct was a bitch. Especially a well-honed instinct for survival. She was primed to run, to hide and watch, to reassess the danger and relocate. That relocating part was what he intended to put a stop to.
“I’m right behind you,” he bit out. Anger was building inside him, surging through him with the force of a tidal wave. His protective instincts were going crazy, rioting through his senses and sending pure, raw fury tearing through him.
Lifting Annie into his arms he held on firmly despite her attempts to get free and moved quickly across the street. He was aware of Slade standing in the middle of the road watching to ensure there were no other speeding vehicles turning onto the street.
Once Jazz had Annie safely across and was striding toward the maroon king cab pickup parked in the café’s lot, Slade hurriedly escorted Jessie across the street—all but dragging her to the truck parked beside Jazz’s.
“Let me go before I brain your damned ass.” Annie’s fist struck at his shoulder as he shoved her into the front seat of the truck. “I don’t need you to carry me.”
He caught her fist on the second swing; her aim would have plowed dead-on into his face. The little witch. Did she actually think he was going to let her just merrily continue on her way and walk home? It wasn’t happening. He’d tie her to the damned truck seat if he had to.
She wasn’t in shock. A quick look at her furious expression and he knew that wasn’t a problem. Hazel eyes burned with green sparks of anger.
“Would you settle the fuck down?” he growled, glowering at her as her eyes narrowed up at him, instincts battling to run even as other, primal senses demanded she submit.
Submission just wasn’t a part of this woman’s nature evidently.
“Take. Me. Home.” She might be crazy mad at the moment, but he could glimpse the fear in her eyes.
“Take you home?” he asked her softly. “Someone just tried to run you down and you want me to just drop you off at your house, by yourself, and drive away like a good little boy?”
Oh hell no. She must really believe he was some dumb mountain hick if she thought he was actually going to do that.
She was the most aggravating woman he had ever met in his life.
“That would be my preference,” she snapped, lips tightening at she glared at him.
“I’m really not concerned with your fucking preference,” he bit out furiously. “I’m more concerned with keeping your pretty ass intact at the moment.”
Her eyes narrowed, lips pursing just slightly as delicate little nostrils flared.
Fuck. God, for just a moment …
A hard shake of his head forced the thought back before he glared down at her again.
“Sugar, you’re just mad as a hornet right now, aren’t you?” he accused her, amazed at the fact that she was angry with him. “Some bastard just tried to run you down and damn if you don’t act like you’re pissed because I saved your ass.”