Striking Distance. Debra Webb

but it was after midnight...who knew? Of course, she had backup, but this guy didn’t know that. Mr. Coldhearted Snake apparently didn’t give a rat’s ass.

      “Fine.” She muttered a couple of fitting expletives as she jerked the seat belt loose and scrambled out, then slammed the door as hard as she could.

      When she walked away she gave it everything she had, swaying her hips like a hooker on a desperate mission.

      She might not have his home address, but she had his license plate number. That was something.

      When he didn’t immediately drive away, an uneasy feeling quivered up her spine. She resisted the urge to turn around and assess his intent. If he gunned the engine she’d hear him in time to dive to safety.

      She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other and to pretend he wasn’t even there, watching, waiting, for God knows what. The memory of that bizarre tattoo made her shiver again. There was something really wrong with this guy. Her sixth sense hadn’t stopped vying for her attention since she walked up to that bar.

      As if she didn’t have enough trouble already, a drunk staggered from an alley a few yards ahead. A friend joined him five seconds later. Both watched her steady progress without making a move. She braced herself for a scuffle.

      Was everything determined to turn out badly tonight?

      The SUV rolled slowly forward.

      She sensed the movement more than heard it.

      Just before she reached the plot of sidewalk where the two winos waited, the SUV stopped next to her, and the passenger-side window powered down.

      “Get in.”

      She folded her arms over her chest and turned a belligerent glare in his direction. “Are you sure? You know they have medication now for bipolar disorders.”

      “Get in.”

      Those cold eyes cut through the darkness with a warning. He wouldn’t be pushed any further.

      “All right.” She opened the door and climbed back into the luxurious leather seat. “So,” she ventured when he’d eased into forward motion once more. “You’ll put me up tonight?” She resisted the urge to smile in victory. Why had she ever doubted herself?

      He braked for a traffic light and swung that piercing gaze toward her. “If you’re certain that’s what you want.”

      She blinked...knew a foolish moment of panic. “Of course I’m sure. Is there some reason I shouldn’t be?”

      That relentless stare bored into her for several seconds more. “That depends.”

      The light changed and he shifted his attention to the task of driving.

      She swallowed, wet her lips and considered whether or not she had made a serious mistake. “Depends on what?” she inquired nonchalantly, uncertain as to whether he would even bother to answer.

      He didn’t look at her...just kept driving. But his voice when he spoke was every bit as icy as she knew his eyes would be. “On why you picked me out in that club tonight.” He relaxed into his seat, still not so much as glancing her way. “You see, I don’t believe in coincidences. Everything happens for a reason. And—” he did look at her then...the fleeting stare chilled her to the bone “—I will know your reason.”

      Chapter 9

      “We lost her.”

      Maverick stared at the handheld monitor, hoping like hell he’d pick up her signal again.

      Nothing.

      “Dammit.”

      “He could have a jamming device in his vehicle,” Ramon offered from behind the wheel.

      “Just keep driving,” Maverick barked. Ramon had been in this business almost as long as he had, but that didn’t give either one of them an edge at a time like this. If they couldn’t pick up a signal on the tracking device or the cell, the bastard had to have a jammer on board. It was that simple. “We gotta find that son of a bitch.”

      He studied the electronic map of the vicinity where they’d last picked up the signal...where they’d last known Tasha North to be. She’d climbed into the SUV with the guy, and they’d lost her signal but had visual contact, so Maverick hadn’t worried. Then, when she’d gotten out a couple minutes later, the signal had come through loud and clear once more. He shook his head and hissed another curse from between gritted teeth. The bastard had a jammer in his vehicle, all right. He knew all the ropes and wasn’t taking any chances.

      Able to maintain visual contact for a while, they’d followed him for several blocks. But, erring on the side of caution, they’d had to lag too far behind to keep up. He’d moved out of visual range...the signal hadn’t returned.

      Now she was gone.

      Maverick called up on the screen a ten-mile radius relative to the last visual sighting. “We’ll take this area one block at a time and hope we spot his SUV.”

      “And if we don’t?” Ramon asked, his expression as disgusted and worried as Maverick’s surely was.

      “Then we report in.”

      He didn’t have to say the rest. If they couldn’t find her soon they’d have to let Lucas know...and start looking for her body.

      Chapter 10

      “What did you learn?”

      Lucas settled on Victoria’s sofa in the very den where approximately twenty-four hours earlier the assassin had been setting his little booby trap. He leveled his attention on the woman waiting expectantly for his response. She looked as regal as ever; the coat dress, the color of ripe peaches, flattering to both her complexion and her figure. One would never know that she’d been through pure hell. She sat in the elegantly brocaded chair directly across from him as if a briefing related to her home’s intrusion were an everyday affair.

      “How are you holding up, Victoria?”

      Though she looked prepared for anything, her shoulders square, her chin lifted high. He knew better. This couldn’t be easy.

      “Lucas, I need to know what you’ve learned. Please don’t attempt to spare my feelings. It’s far too late for that.”

      He set his cane aside and looked her straight in the eye. “He’s been in your home, as you know. Planting the device that opened your window would have been impossible by any other means. He left no prints that we can find. Nor did he leave any other surprises.”

      She shifted slightly then. He resisted the urge to shake his head. No matter what she said she wasn’t as ready for this as she wanted him to believe.

      “So you’ll keep my home under twenty-four-hour surveillance now.”

      It wasn’t a question. She already knew the answer. Lucas had hoped to conceal the depth of his awareness regarding the assassin’s movements, but that was impossible now. He would note the increased surveillance on the home. That couldn’t be helped. But keeping his suspicions from the assassin that Leberman was behind this was imperative.

      “Yes.”

      “He’ll realize that we know, then,” Victoria noted, reading Lucas’s mind.

      He nodded. He tried without success to keep the other worry from interfering with his concentration. They’d lost contact with Tasha at one this morning. If the bastard had killed her...

      Lucas forced the idea away. Tasha was too good to go down this easy. He refused to believe she was dead...just yet.

      Something changed in Victoria’s eyes. Her expression went from firm and solemn to fragile and frightened. “What about the ice cream.”

      This was the part he’d dreaded the most. “Freda