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“Got it.” Disconnecting, he drew to a stop, then reversed quickly and backed to the end of the alley that the GPS had pinpointed as Lyrica’s location.
She had to be here.
God help him if she wasn’t.
God help whoever had her if they’d found her. If she was hurt, he’d find them, and he’d ensure they regretted that mistake in ways they could never imagine.
—
The sound of vehicles pulling to a stop caused Lyrica’s breath to catch. She didn’t dare move. The glow of lights was shining all around her, possibly compromising the shadowed little alcove she was hiding in.
Her back was killing her and her legs were cramped. It felt like she’d been there for hours, still too terrified to move, to do anything more than just breathe. Silent tears slipped from her eyes. She’d prayed silently, certain each sound was a return of the assailant.
And he had returned at least once.
She’d watched his shadow, felt fear screaming through her as he’d tried to shift the Dumpster, moving it enough to wedge himself in between the side of it and the wall, as he seemed to be attempting to look behind it.
He’d thrown the lids open instead and looked inside. He may have glanced behind it, but he’d cursed silently, moving around the alley and kicking boxes seconds later.
She’d nearly screamed in fear at the sound of glass breaking and another cat squalling seconds after he left that second time.
Now the lights would make it far easier to see her.
Moving
slowly and biting her lip at the agonizing feel of her cramped muscles being forced to move, she moved into position to run. Crouched, forced to huddle on her hands and knees, tears falling from her eyes again, she promised herself if they caught her, she wouldn’t beg.
A Mackay didn’t beg, she reminded herself. If one did, then she would have done so by now. She would have begged Graham to explain last winter. She would have begged him to love her, perhaps. There wasn’t a lot she would have begged for, but those things, at one time, she might have considered.
If only Graham had managed to get here in time to save her . . .
FOUR
“Roofs are clear,” Elijah confirmed as Graham checked the clip to his handgun before pushing it back into place and chambering the first round.
“Keep your eyes open,” Graham ordered.
As he stepped cautiously from the Viper, the motor still throbbed powerfully, waiting for the lightest touch to throw it into gear. Leaving his door open, he stepped around to the passenger door, opened it quickly, then moved into a protective position at the edge of the Dumpster.
“Lyrica, move it,” he commanded.
For several long seconds nothing moved.
“Lyrica, baby, come on, move it. We don’t have a lot of time.”
What if she’d been found? What if she’d had to run again and hadn’t been able to reengage the battery in her phone to contact him?
He was ready to turn to Elijah and order him to call in the team when he heard the first sob. A second later her dark head peeked around the far edge of the Dumpster and she was moving to him.
Her pale face, filled with stark fear and hope, was scratched, the shoulder-length mass of silky black hair falling mussed around her face as she struggled to get to him. Reaching out, he shoved the Dumpster a few inches out of the way and reached in and grabbed her shoulders before hauling her into his arms.
“Oh god. Graham.” Sweet, warm, and far too fragile, she laid her head against his chest, her trembling fingers fisting into his T-shirt as she shuddered in his arms.
“Let’s get out of here before we’re seen.” Moving quickly, he eased her into the passenger seat. “Get down as far as you can, and keep your head down. Let’s get you out of town before anyone’s the wiser.”
Slamming the door closed, Graham loped around the front of the car, gave Elijah the signal to head out, then slid into the driver’s seat and threw the vehicle into gear. Before accelerating he pushed her head to his lap and pulled the jacket he kept behind the passenger seat over her head and shoulders. Then he followed Elijah with a surge of power.
“We’re moving slowly out of town,” he told her as he felt her fingers pressing against his thigh, her cheek far too close to the erection swelling beneath his jeans. “We’re going to just take it easy, draw no attention to ourselves, and once we reach the interstate we’ll make sure no one’s following.”
