Page 7 of Unplanned Target

THREE

MIRANDA

Grabbing a jacket and my purse, I aim for the garage. Actually doing something to find Allie has my racing heart slowing just the tiniest bit. Helps me feel like I’ve got things under control.

“Not sure where you’re going.” Owen steps into my path, tipping his head toward the front door. “My Jeep’s in the driveway.”

“We can take my car.” I try to step around him, but he moves with me.

“Does your car have a reinforced frame?” He crosses both arms when I don’t answer. “Bulletproof glass?” One dark blond brow angles. “A high-performance engine?”

I press my lips together. “No. I didn’t know I was going to need them.”

I like taking care of myself. I like being the one who calls the shots and makes the decisions. I like being behind the wheel, metaphorically and literally.

“Unfortunately, you don’t have time to trade it in right now, so I think you’re just gonna have to ride with me.” Owen tips his head toward the front door again. “I promise I’m a good driver.”

I scan the giant man blocking my path from head to toe. “You look like a good driver.”

Owen kinda looks like an overgrown boy scout. He’s big and brawny, with arms that are as thick as my thighs, but there’s a boyishness to him that keeps him from seeming scary.

Even with an entire arsenal strapped to his very lethal looking body.

He seems to stand a little taller at my obvious perusal. “Is that a compliment?”

“Not really.” I follow the length of a vein tracking a path along his corded forearm. “Good drivers get cut off.” I put my eyes on his face. “You do look like you eat a lot of protein though.”

“I do.” Owen must get tired of waiting for me to go where he wants me to, because he steps close, crowding my space in a way no man has in years. One big hand comes to rest against the middle of my back as he urges me along. “We need to get moving.”

I’m not thrilled at being a passenger, but Owen’s SUV is surprisingly nice. The entire thing is black. Body, windows, seats, dash, floorboards, everything. It’s sleek and sexy and impeccably clean.

“Buckle up.” He gives the direction before closing me in, jogging around the front of the vehicle with a surprising amount of grace for someone as bulky as he is.

As much as I don’t want it to seem like I’m doing his bidding, I also don’t want to die if he’s not as good of a driver as he claims. I buckle in, watching Owen as he gets behind the wheel. Every move he makes is purposeful. There’s a consistency to his actions that make it seem like he’s done them a million times. Hopefully he has, because he’s the only person I have to help me find Allie since Tony’s…

I fucking forgot to ask what in the hell’s wrong with my brother.

“Why couldn’t my brother come?” Tony and Allie are thick as thieves. They love the shit out of each other. He’s taken on a sort of fatherly role in her life since her actual father decided married life and parenthood weren’t for him and moved across the country to pursue his real calling.

For the first time since showing up, Owen looks uncomfortable. He shifts in his seat as he backs out of the driveway, looking everywhere but my face as we pull out onto the road. “Butch is indisposed.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I don’t like it when people try to skirt around telling me something. “And you better not give me more of that indisposed bullshit.”

Owen sighs. “He was injured on an op. Let himself get abducted so someone else would be safe.”

That sounds very on-brand for my brother. He’s an asshole, but he’s a selfless asshole. “Where is he now?”

“In the hospital recovering. His spleen was lacerated and a few ribs were broken. He’s pretty sore, but he’ll be okay.” Owen glances my way like he’s gauging whether or not I’m going to be a bitch again. “Your brother is a dick, but he’s a good man.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about him.” I huff out a little laugh. “Actually, that’s not true. Tony was a lot different until about ten years ago. Going undercover changed him.”

“Seeing the bad in the world can do that.” There’s something off in Owen’s voice. A melancholy that wasn’t there before.

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.” I can only imagine what a mercenary sees on a regular basis. Probably all kinds of crazy shit I can’t even begin to conjure up in my mind.

Owen shrugs. “I think anyone can see the bad if they’re willing to look hard enough.” He turns to me, his earlier pensiveness replaced with an easy smile. “But I’d rather look for the good.”

“An optimist.” I sit a little taller as we get close to the coffee shop. “You seem like an optimist.”