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But before I can take a good enough look, she lets loose a panicked exclamation about being chased and I’m barely able to ask by who when bullets start popping. The operator in me quickly takes over and I flip the table onto its side, providing cover.
“Get down!” I yell at the women. They drop behind the upended table as I reach under my jacket and pull my Glock 19 Gen 5 from its holster. Not wanting to hit anyone in the crowded dining room, I aim up at the ceiling and fire off a warning shot. Just to let the bastards know that I’m here and I’m ready.
Judging by their loud accented curses, which I quickly identify as Russian, her pursuers weren’t expecting that little surprise. They dive for cover before firing back at us as the entire dining room erupts in chaos. Customers are screaming, running and trying to find cover or the nearest exit.
Using the element of surprise and the resulting havoc to my advantage, I pop up. “C’mon. This way,” I tell the women and push them toward the kitchen. “In there.”
We duck inside the kitchen and the smell of food fills the air. People cower behind counters as meat cooks, vegetables sizzle in a large pan on the burner and a table with half-made salads sits abandoned.
“Where are we going?” Cameron asks, hurrying forward.
“Back door,” I clip out, tilting my head in the direction I want them to move. “Hurry!”
As the women rush toward the door, I pause, turn around, and wait for the gunmen to follow, but they don’t. At least, not yet. Maybe they made a run for it after I shot back. I jog after the women and follow them through a back door and into the alley. The parking lot is right around the corner and I motion for them to follow me. Pulling out my keyfob, I unlock my Jaguar as we approach.
“Get in,” I order them and slide into the driver’s seat.
“There’s only one seat,” Cameron says, looking over at her sister. “Who’s lighter? You or me?”
“I haven’t weighed myself since I ate that entire batch of cookies two months ago.”
Armed men are in pursuit and they’re discussing who weighs more.Really?
Tuning them out, I scan the parking lot, scoping it out, and see the two gunmen hurrying around the corner. “Let’s fucking go!” I roar.
The sisters simultaneously shut up. Cameron drops down into the seat and her sister climbs in and sits on her lap, pulling the door closed behind her. I can feel them both staring at me as I spin the Jag around, tires screeching, and roll down the window. Focused on the men, I lift my pistol.
“Stay down,” I growl and hit the gas. The car jumps from zero to sixty in five seconds and, as we peel past the men, I fire off two more shots. They yell—yeah, definitely in Russian—and dive for cover. I yank the wheel hard and we skid sideways, drifting slightly on the left tires, before I straighten it up, no doubt leaving black marks on the pavement.
Nothing but silence greets me and I finally look over and see the sisters holding onto each other for dear life.
“You didn’t tell me you had a date with James Bond,” the redhead whispers.
I snort out a laugh. “Slater,” I say with a smirk. “Dash Slater.” The geek in me can’t resist.
“He’s funny, too,” she whispers to Cameron then turns her big brown eyes on me. “I’m Blakely, but you can call me Lake.”
Lake.I don’t miss the irony of her name since water is something I typically avoid at all costs. However, I take a moment to look over this body of water and keeping my distance is the furthest thing from my mind. She’s fucking gorgeous with porcelain skin, bright red hair and eyes so dark and deep that I could drown in them.
“Nice to meet you, Lake,” I say, keeping my tone neutral. “Any clue who those men back there were?”
“I have no idea,” she says.
I lift a brow. “No idea? Really?”
“No.” When I don’t comment, she continues, “On the flight, I noticed a man watching me, which was weird. And then after I landed, he followed me outside and tried to steal my bag.”
My eyes drop to the messenger bag clutched in her white-knuckled grip. “What’s in your bag?”
“Nothing!” she insists. “I jumped in the taxi and we noticed him following us, so I came straight to the restaurant because the last thing I wanted to do was lead him back to my apartment.”
“Why would he be following you?” Cameron asks.
“I don’t know,” Lake says, shaking her head. Her curls bounce and it’s kind of adorable.
Although I don’t know this woman at all, I can read people pretty damn well and I believe she’s telling the truth. The question is, why were those men after her?
“Where are we going?” Cameron asks.
