“Thanks.” She forced a smile for him and then hurried for the door. “I’ll wait by the sign.”
“Sure thing.” The worker followed her outside and locked the door behind her. “We close at five, and you were our only return today.” He gave her a nod and strode around the building, minutes later roaring out of the lot in a lifted Ford with flames down the sides.
She grinned. Not in a million years had she pictured the guy wearing khakis and a button-down in such a flamboyant truck. Clearing her throat, she leaned back against the building, allowing the awning to protect her from the storm.
A heartbeat later, her stomach dropped as a familiar dark sedan pulled into the lot. Her legs tensed to run, but Marshal Smithers waved from the driver’s seat.
She faked another smile, trapped in place. Her stomach rolled over.
An engine rumbled in the distance, and a battered Chevy truck careened across the lot, smashing hard into the sedan.
The sedan collided with several cars, and metal crumpled with a loud crunch.
The truck swung around, and the passenger door was thrown open. “Get in,” bellowed a low voice.
She blinked at seeing Heath Jones, the detective from Lost Bastards. Her knees wobbled. D.J. Smithers jumped out of the totaled car, a gun in his hand. Her instincts told her she had about two seconds, so she yelped and ran across the snow, leaped through the passenger side of the truck, and slammed the door.
Heath punched the gas, and the truck fishtailed as it roared out of the lot.
Bullets struck the side of the truck with an odd pattering sound.
“Get down.” Heath grabbed her neck and shoved her down, sliding down in the seat too but not losing any speed. His hand was rough and his voice tense, but he didn’t hurt her.
She blinked, her heart thundering. The glove box slammed open, and a gun dropped onto her knee. She grabbed it and held on tight.
The truck fishtailed around a corner and then several more. Finally, Heath released her neck. “Are you okay?”
She nodded and straightened up on the bench seat. Her ribs hurt from the rapid beating of her heart. “How?” She looked out the back window at an empty and snowy road.
Heath glanced her way. “How what?”
She swallowed and surveyed him. At least six foot four, tightly muscled, definitely strong and fast. Light brown hair waved over his collar, and his greenish brown eyes pierced right through her. While the fake Marshals had been shooting guns, there was no doubt this guy was twice as dangerous. What had she done, jumping into his truck? “Um.” She fumbled for the door handle.
“I’m driving too fast for you to jump out.” He kept his broad hands on the steering wheel.
She blinked, and her shoulders trembled. “Why are you here?” she breathed.
His frown drew down his dark eyebrows. “Me? Why the hell are you here?”
Okay. So he wasn’t happy to see her. “Listen. I was looking through my sister’s things and found the Lost Bastards card, and I remembered meeting you the other week, so I thought I’d track you down and see if you were still looking for the Copper Killer.” The words burst out of her in a rush. Damn it. She needed to seem in control and calm.
“Oh.” His full lips tightened.
“Why were those men shooting at you?” she whispered, her mind reeling.
Heath glanced her way again. “They were shooting at you, darlin’. Chasing you.”
She leaned her head back. That was true. “Why?” God. Were they somehow working for her ex? Would he send men with guns to bring her back? “Wait a minute.” Her mind ran through likely scenarios. “I first met them at your former offices. They were looking for you, not me.”
Heath’s upper lip twitched.
She watched, not wanting to be fascinated. Then irritation took over. “You’re a jerk.”
He shrugged. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
God, this was getting too damn confusing, and she was having trouble breathing from the fear of losing the sister she’d just found. “Why are those fake cops chasing you and now me?”
He looked at her again, really looked this time. “How did you know they were fake?”
“I didn’t until I took a good look at one of the badges.” Plus, her instincts were fairly decent at knowing when a man was lying to her. “There was something not quite right about them.”
Admiration glimmered in Heath’s stunning eyes for a moment. “Nicely done. So they followed you?”
“I guess.” She sighed, warmed by his gaze. “I lied and told them I was staying at a motel, but apparently they didn’t believe me. I also gave them a fake name and number.” She eyed the snowy trees flashing by outside. “Why are they after you, Heath?”
“So you do remember my name,” he murmured.
She frowned. “Sure.”