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“No.” her shriek unclamped her throat. “No, dammit. Luke. Luke!”
He grabbed both her shoulders. Shook her until she looked directly at him again. “He’ll be safe. I swear it, ku’uipo. I swear it.” He breathed hard, pumping fresh blood to the gash down one of his cheeks. She seized a schism of comfort. Knowing she’d inflicted that damage. “Max is taking you someplace safe. They won’t look for you there. I’ll bring Luke to you at the same spot. You have to go!”
He didn’t wait for her reply.
As usual, the dragon’s orders were law.
And as Max stomped on the gas, peeling the Jag out of the garage and into the streets of midnight-drenched Seattle, Tracy forced her soul to sit down with her heart’s warring factions over that damn edict.
She really, really hated him.
She totally, completely trusted him.
What the hell was she going to do without him?
***
The thought haddefinitely not been her plea for a trial run on that answer.
Life, in its disgustingly evil way, had delivered anyway.
Twelve and a half hours ago, she was riding in an elevator with the man, feeling as giddy as a college girl on her first date. Steel and concrete had been her confines; outside there’d been one of the world’s largest cities, bustling and vrooming and chaotic in its nightlife rush.
Two hours after that, she’d looked up at the canopy of stars over Mount Rainier, while climbing into yet another sightseeing helicopter. Her mood had been as dark as the thunderheads sneaking over the back of the famous peak, as Sam Mackenna piloted the aircraft south…
Across Oregon…
Far into California…
Until sweeping in over the ocean, sparkling as brilliantly as those Rainier stars, and landing in the huge meadow over which she now peered.
There were two helos parked in the grass now. Their blades drooped, the engines long since silenced. Only thirty minutes had passed between the two landings, officially the longest half-hour of her life. But as soon as Ethan Archer touched down the second helo and her very alive, very animated fifteen-year-old had bounded onto the grass, her agony melted into inconsequence. She hadn’t even minded about barely understanding the kid, letting Mia and him jabber as if they rode fifteen roller coasters in a row. Apparently, barely escaping from mystery terrorists in a hail of gunfire, followed by a hellbent-for-leather ride through the streets of Seattle then a midnight helicopter ride over two state lines and hundreds of miles, was second only to ziplining in the world of teenage cool.
Reeducating the kid—and that would happen—could come later. For now, knowing there was nothing or nobody here to harm him, aside from a few curious bunnies and squirrels in the meadow, brought a rush of peace she would not complain about. A serenity she didn’t even know still existed…at least not for her.
What did that say about the path she’d chosen for her life?
About what she now subjected Luke’s life to?
The rolling hills, glowing sage and amber in the burgeoning dawn, gave her no answers. They extended for miles, finally blending with the glimmering sea, an equal enigma for enlightenment. At the moment, she was beyond caring. The sun, finally breaking into full light, proved why they called this place the Golden State. The morning wind, whispering across the meadow, lulled her into enjoying a long breath in then out. Then another.
She closed her eyes for the same peaceful moments. Her nostrils filled with pine and ocean, even a light tinge of coffee being brewed inside the rambling ranch house. The slight chill in the air gave her a tiny shiver, and she welcomed it. For six days, her world had been only twenty-five-hundred square feet of enclosed space, with occasional peeks at a patch of sky. Getting greedy about all this was her due.
And, God willing, her eraser.
Like that was going to happen, now that John snuck into a corner of her mind. Then commandeered a bigger chunk. Stomped into the one next to that.
Shit.
Shit.
John Keoni Franzen.
He wasn’t just the dragon slinking into her space anymore.
He was the knight who’d lowered her drawbridge and ridden right into her keep. Who commanded her desire, then taken her orgasms as his trophies of war.
Then went even farther.
