The Renegade Read online

  She was pleased with herself, actually, so she didn’t bother trying to deny it. “The Quake,” she repeated with a derisive snort. “You make me sound like a member of the World Wrestling Federation.”

  His smile was so lazy it was evil. “I wouldn’t mind watching you roll around in the mud. Or in a pool of Jell-O. Naked.”

  She felt her lips twitch and found herself reluctantly flattered. “I’d forgotten how shallow you were.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m going to remind you, every opportunity I get.”

  “Something to look forward to then,” she remarked drolly. “Goody.” She snagged her sunglasses from her bag, then slid them onto her nose. “I can’t decide if you’re really this easily distracted or if you’re purposely toying with me so that I won’t ask you about the whole being watched/GPS issue.”

  He continued to watch the mirrors, presumably looking for whoever was following them. “How do you know I’m not doing both?”

  “You’ve learned to multitask? Excellent. It’s a valuable life skill.”

  He directed a long-suffering glare at her but didn’t comment. “Ackerman was in the parking lot when we came down from the apartment. If he followed us from the museum, then he had ample time to plant the device.”

  “But he thought we were going to the airport. How could he have known that I’d be going with you?”

  Tanner shrugged. “Hedging his bets. Bottom line, he knew where you were staying when he shouldn’t have, he was there and he had the opportunity. Duck Theory 101.”

  She frowned. “Duck Theory 101? I don’t think I’m familiar with that particular class.”

  “If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck—”

  “Then it’s a duck,” she finished for him. Though her instinctive response was to argue with him, Mia found that she couldn’t. Tanner’s “theory” made as much sense as anything else did. “How do you know we’re being watched?”

  His gaze covertly slid to the rearview mirror again. “I didn’t know for sure until about thirty seconds ago. But the hair on the back of my neck has been standing up since we walked into the restaurant this morning. I could feel it, even if I couldn’t see it.”

  She hadn’t noticed it at all and she briefly wondered if that meant her antennae were broken or if Tanner’s considerable sex appeal was scrambling the signal. Her money was on the latter. “But you see it now?”

  He nodded. “Pretend to be checking your makeup in the visor. Five cars back, left-hand lane. White minivan. Does the person driving look familiar?”

  Mia did as he instructed, touching up her lip gloss in the process. “It’s Ackerman’s woman,” she said, then frowned. “I don’t remember them being in a minivan.”

  “Ackerman only let me think I’d shaken him. Once he’d planted the device and knew we weren’t going to the airport, he swapped rentals and caught up with us.”

  Mia bit her bottom lip, her stomach getting queasy. “I wouldn’t have thought he was that smart,” she said.

  “He’s an investigative reporter,” Tanner told her. “I don’t know that he’s so much smart, as sneaky.”

  Mia swallowed and her gaze drifted to the backpack stowed at her feet and thought of the priceless antiquity it housed, the one she was charged with helping to keep safe. More than her job was on the line here—a piece of history was, as well. Knowing that the threat was possible was one thing—actually having someone follow them was quite another.

  Though she’d always thought Ackerman’s interest was a little too keen, she’d never felt threatened by him. She’d never been afraid of him. Had she been wrong? Mia wondered now. Could he be working for Ramirez?

  As a journalist, he had a valid reason for following the exhibit, supposedly reporting on the “fertility phenomenon.” He was the perfect plant, the kind who wouldn’t raise a lot of suspicion. She shared her thoughts with Tanner.

  “To tell you the truth, I just always thought he was a little strange, that he’d decided this story was going to be the one that got him the recognition he deserved,” she told him. “I never would have put him in league with Ramirez. But considering the lengths he’s going to now…I don’t know.”

  “I don’t, either,” Tanner said. “But the only way he’s getting his hands on Moe Dick is by coming through me—” he chuckled darkly “—and I can assure you, sweetheart, I’m not going to let that happen. This is my first assignment for Ranger Security and I’ll be damned before I let a second-rate reporter or a wealthy thug screw it up.” There was a strange undercurrent in his voice that she didn’t readily identify. Desperation, maybe?

  Honestly, when he’d been so quiet at breakfast this morning, she’d chalked it up to humiliation from last night. When he’d given her the reluctant so-nonchalant-it-was-painful warning about his possible nightmares, she’d had no idea what to expect. A whimper maybe, a little thrashing beneath the covers. No.

  “Not the school, damn you! Not the school, you miserable bastards! No, dammit, no! God, no!”

  He’d screamed like he was dying and then moaned like he wished he had.

  It was utterly heartbreaking.

  The first shout had woken her from a dead sleep—one that had taken forever to reach due to his damned distracting, half-naked proximity—and she’d needed to use more than a sharp jab to wake him from the awful dream. She’d had to grab his shoulders and shake him, repeatedly saying his name until she got his attention. He’d been clammy with sweat, breathing hard and the shame that passed over his gaze as soon as he realized that she’d witnessed his terror was quite possibly the saddest thing she’d ever seen.

  But it clearly wasn’t the saddest thing he’d ever seen.

  He’d apologized, lumbered to the bathroom where she’d heard him retch, then washed his mouth out and returned to their room. She’d purposely turned her back to the bathroom door, trying not to humiliate him by witnessing anymore of his pain. She’d felt his gaze linger on her for a moment before he finally slid back into his bed.

  What had happened to him? Mia wondered. What horror haunted him to the point that he’d left the military? She had her suspicions, of course, given his agonized outburst about the school and the mere thought was too horrible to imagine. How cowardly that she didn’t even want to imagine what he’d been forced to witness.

  Her gaze slid to Tanner, who was carefully negotiating traffic. Fatigue tightened the skin around his eyes and his usually smiling mouth was grim with determination. His thick tawny locks were slowing growing out of the military cut, reminding her more of the boy she once new. Her heart gave a little pang and she resisted the urge to reach over and stroke his cheek. Mia heaved a small sigh.

  It was so much easier to deal with him when he was being a smart-ass.

  “At the restaurant, when you looked out the window and frowned,” he prompted. “What did you see?”

  It took her brain a second to switch gears. “Nothing,” she said, instantly tense. “My eyes were playing tricks on me.”

  “What did your tricky eyes think they saw, then?” Tanner pressed. “Everything is significant, Mia. Even if you don’t think it is.”

  She genuinely didn’t want to discuss this with him. Her father was a sore subject, a sad and disgraceful one she preferred to keep private. All she’d ever told Tanner about her dad was that he’d exited her life when she was ten. She hadn’t told him about his diverse criminal records, his general lack of regard for anyone around him, his pathological lying and textbook narcissistic behavior. It was humiliating and made her feel like she had bad blood.

  But, ultimately, he was right. Everything was significant. She looked out the window, watched the bright green landscape roll by as they sped down eighty-one south toward Knoxville. Mia had actually plotted their route before they’d left and was secretly pleased to see that Tanner was unknowingly following the same course she’d plotted. She heaved a small sigh, dragged her knitting needles and yarn from her bag and set to work.

 
“I thought I saw my father,” she finally admitted. “In a car that came through the parking lot.”

  Tanner’s brow creased. “Your father? Wouldn’t you have known if it was him?”

  A valid question, one she didn’t want to answer. She corrected a dropped stitch and knitted faster. “In a perfect world, yes,” she admitted. “In reality, however, I haven’t seen my dad in three years. And, to tell you the truth, hadn’t seen him several years before that.”

  “That’s right,” Tanner murmured, still watching the rearview mirror. “He left when you were young.” He shot her an apologetic look. “Sorry, Mia. I should have remembered,” he said, his voice laced with regret.

  She shook her head, dismissing his apology. “It was just bizarre. He’s tried to contact me a couple of times in the past few weeks, but I just assumed I was his one phone call and he was between women of questionable intelligence.” If she sounded bitter, it’s because she was.

  Tanner didn’t so much as bat a lash, but she recognized a sudden change all the same. “He’s done time?”

  “Not for more than a few months at a stretch, I think.” Mia finished off the sock, adding her trademark linked initials in white on the upper hem. She did them in lowercase, so they looked a bit like a pitchfork.

  Tanner glanced over, seemingly distracted for a moment by what she was doing. He’d watched her knit yesterday afternoon and last night, as well, but she’d been working on a cap then. “Who are those for?” he asked, his voice strange.

  Mia retrieved the other sock from her bag and folded them together, then put them into a plastic bag. “I don’t know specifically,” she admitted. “I belong to a knitting group who makes socks and caps and the like for soldiers stationed overseas. I’ve been doing it for years.” It seemed like the least that she could do for the men and women serving their country. The whole idea had struck a deep chord within her and she’d enjoyed being able to contribute, even it was with something as small as a pair of socks.

  A disbelieving smile slid over his lips and he shook his head. “I’ve got a pair of those,” he told her. “And, as improbable as this sounds, I swear, I think they’re a pair of yours. They’ve got the same little pitchfork on the top, just like that, only they’re a different color. Either gray or light blue.”

  Unreasonably pleased, Mia smiled. “That’s not a pitchfork, fool. It’s my initials—MH.”

  He smiled as understanding dawned. “Ah.” He sighed. “Now I see. Very clever.”

  She thought so, but she was biased, Mia thought, starting another pair.

  “Back to your father,” he said. “What had he been put away for? Do you know?”

  “Petty theft. Running scams on the elderly. Stealing checks, bad checks, basically anything that’s dishonorable and stupid.”

  Tanner seemed to be mulling that over. “Would Ramirez be the kind of man your father could be involved with?”

  Mia was suddenly sick to her stomach. “Honestly, Tanner, I don’t know. I can’t imagine that’s the case— Ramirez is way out of my father’s league—but with my father and what little I know of him, I guess anything is possible.”

  And sadly, that was the truth. Furthermore, if she found out her father was behind any of this, she’d personally throttle him. He’d already mucked up her childhood—she’d be damned before she allowed him to interfere with the career she was building.

  “So what are we going to do about the tracking device?” she finally asked, deciding that a subject change was in order.

  “Don’t worry,” he told her. “I’ve got a plan.”

  She felt her lips twitch. “Let me guess. This plan will at some point, involve you telling me to follow your lead?”

  He laughed, checked the rearview mirror, then hit the accelerator and darted across three lanes to the exit at the last possible second, leaving the minivan behind on the interstate.

  “Of course. It’s one of my more inspired plans.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m beginning to think it’s your only plan.”

  And fool that she was, she actually liked it.

  7

  TANNER QUICKLY PULLED into a truck stop and drove to the back of the lot, where the cache of eighteen-wheelers would give them a decent bit of cover.

  “We need to get another rental.”

  Without further explanation on his part, Mia pulled out her phone. “I’m on it.”

  A thought struck. “Here,” he said, tossing her his cell. “Use mine.”

  She frowned, but wonder of wonders, she didn’t argue.

  Tanner locked her inside with their precious cargo, then dropped to his knees and began feeling around underneath the car. He hit pay dirt behind the right back passenger tire, tucked high in the wheel well. The bumpers wouldn’t have worked—too much plastic.

  With a grim smile, he tapped on the window, showed the device to Mia, then turned and stuck it underneath a nearby transfer truck. With any luck, this guy would roll out in a few minutes and lay a false trail. In the interim, a new car and a different route away from the interstate was going to be in order. It would slow them down for a bit, but they should still make Nashville this evening as planned. A droll smile touched his lips.

  Contrary to what Mia thought, he did have a plan. It was just more fun to leave her in the dark about it.

  But leaving her alone in the dark was a completely different matter, particularly when he could hear the soft breath breezing between her lips, the slide of her hair over the pillow, soft murmurs in her sleep. And that little nightie thing she’d been wearing? What in sweet hell had he ever done to deserve that sort of torment?

  Obviously she hadn’t realized she was going to be sharing a room with her security agent. Otherwise he was certain she would have packed something that covered more of her body than the silky scrap of pale pink fabric and lace he’d gotten a peek of last night when she’d shimmied quickly out of her robe and launched herself beneath the covers. It had reminded him of those old vaudeville shows where the virgin heroine had cowered under the covers while the evil villain menacingly stroked his mustache.

  As if he hadn’t seen it all before.

  He’d chuckled and she’d glared. Good times.

  Furthermore, though she’d always held a special attraction for him, something about seeing her again had made him unbelievably hyper-aware of her. The shape of her mouth, the ripeness of her breasts, the lush curve of her hip and her ass… Damn, how he wanted to get his hands on it, to feel it beneath his palms. He was constantly, hammeringly aware of her, could practically feel her in his blood…and most of that was pooled south of his brain.

  Logic told him it was natural, that it was just a byproduct of a.) not being laid recently and b.) being with an extremely sexy woman with whom he shared a spectacularly carnal past. But if he’d had a dollar for every time his gaze had slid to the backpack and imagined the little statue contained within… Impossible.

  Tanner was familiar with being horny. He’d been tapping cheerleaders since junior high—the sight of a pair of pom-poms still gave him a little thrill—and he’d furthered his sexual expertise during his teenage years courtesy of a friend’s father’s extensive porn library. What could he say? Tanner thought with a grin. He was a visual learner.

  At any rate, he’d been everything from mildly horny to desperately-in-need-of-an-orgasm and yet the level of lust which was currently plaguing him was an altogether new experience. He didn’t believe for a minute that it had anything to do with Moe Dick—no matter how often his gaze was drawn to the backpack—and had found himself shocked to learn that Mia did. How bizarre that someone so sensible could buy into what was obviously brought about by the mighty power of suggestion.

  As if this wrestling with the all-consuming attraction wasn’t enough, he had to deal with the knowledge that she’d witnessed one of his mortifying nightmares. Considering he hadn’t had a single night since the incident without one, he knew it was inevitable. But having her see
it? Damn. His cheeks burned with remembered humiliation.

  And this had been a particularly bad one, one that brought up an image he hadn’t realized had been stored in his head. So much death. So many little bodies. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, forcing the images back. He’d actually been so shaken up, he’d been sick to his stomach. She had to have heard that, too, and yet thankfully—blessedly—when he’d returned to the bedroom, she’d turned away from the door, giving him a bit of privacy. Not many women would have been so intuitive, would have known that he’d needed that small reprieve. But she had and, as further testament to her character, she hadn’t asked the first question.

  Tanner slid back into the car and turned to look at her. “Where are we going?”

  She quickly rattled off directions and he aimed the sedan in the appropriate direction. “They’ve only got one car left,” she said, a curious note of humor in her voice that put him instantly on guard.

  “Oh?”

  “I told them to hold it. At this point, I don’t think we can a-afford to be p-picky.” She clamped her lips together, presumably to keep from smiling.

  Dread ballooned in his gut. “What is it?”

  She fiddled with the end of her braid. “Oh, you’ll see.”

  And he did, a moment later. His eyes widened and he swore hotly. “A Smart car? Seriously? That’s all they’ve got left?”

  “Yes.” And then she howled with laughter.

  Tanner offered a friendly wave to the staff as he wheeled through the parking lot, then shot back out into traffic. “We’ll find another one.”

  Her mouth fell open. “What? Are you serious? I knew you wouldn’t like it, but I didn’t think you’d be such a snob.”

  “It’s not a matter of being a snob, it’s a matter of being comfortable. I am six-six. You are what? Five-two, Five-three?”

  “I’m five-five actually,” she said primly, tilting her adorable nose up into the air.