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“I’m trying!” The fear and adrenaline raced through her. She tried to stay down but still drive straight. Her head spun and her knuckles were white bumps.
She looked over at Hunter again. He kept ducking in and out of the window, shooting his gun, then coming back in to reload. The scene was like something out of a movie. This highly-armed man, sitting in her car, firing at the car behind them. This could not be her life. Hunter looked every bit like the dangerous hit man he was.
She’d forgotten for a minute that he was hired to kill her. That he made money and killed people for a living. She let that sink in. She couldn’t imagine ever actually killing someone, as many times as she’d wanted to kill Jeremy. The idea of pointing a gun at him and pulling the trigger gave her a small measure of comfort, but she feared if it came to that, she wouldn’t be able to go through with it.
But here was Hunter, firing round after round, hoping to kill someone. Trained to kill someone. How he didn’t get caught, she had no idea. Unless he did. Maybe he’d spent a lot of time in jail. Suddenly, she felt like she didn’t know him at all. And she’d slept with him. She’d let this man into her house, this trained killer. She’d slept beside him when he had been paid to kill her.
Was she nuts? How could she think she was safer with him? Jeremy might have money and connections, and he was decent with his hands, but he’d never killed anyone that she knew about. How many people had Hunter killed?
As she kept gripping the steering wheel, jumping at every shot that was fired, one thing ran through her mind over and over. He was far too dangerous for her. She could not have a man like him in her life, around her daughter.
# # #
Hunter aimed again and fired. The man behind the wheel slumped forward. Finally. He had to have taken a few hits, that tough bastard. The shooter in the passenger seat had been much easier. Two shots to take out the window, a few missed shots as Vanessa swerved all over the damn road, then two more to drop him.
He would have been much more efficient if he had a skilled driver. Her screaming had thrown him off, too. It wasn’t the conditions he was used to working under, but she was handling it well, given the circumstances. After her one big swerve, she’d at least kept the car steady. She didn’t slow down or speed up too much. She had instinctively known what distance to keep between the cars. A little practice and she could become a fine driver for this sort of thing.
The van stayed straight on the road for a few moments, then veered off as the road bent. He kept it in sight, watching as it hit the grass going too fast, flipped over once, then again, before finally settling. A few moments later, he heard the loud boom of the explosion and felt the car swerve slightly as Vanessa jumped. When he looked back, he saw only flames.
“Guess that took care of them,” he said.
“What just happened?”
“I shot the driver, then the van flipped and blew up.”
The car sped up as the wreckage grew farther and farther away.
“Nice driving,” he said, turning back around in his seat and reloading his gun. Who knew if there were other vehicles in the area or someone else who might come after them. He needed to be ready at all times.
He looked over at Vanessa. Tears rested low in her eyes, but didn’t stream down her face. Her hands were still tight on the wheel, and she glanced continually in her mirrors.
“It’s okay,” he said, reaching out to brush her hair back.
She flinched at his touch.
“Vanessa, calm down. It’s over.”
She clenched her jaw and refused to look at him.
“What’s wrong? You that freaked out?”
She swallowed hard and glanced over at him. “I…” She watched the road again, then seemed to work up courage to ask, “How many people have you killed?”
“Where is this coming from?” Of all the things he expected her say, this was not it.
“Answer the question.”
“I’m not sure exactly.”
“Guess!”
“Whoa, calm down,” he said. “What’s this about?”
She pulled the car over, stomping the brake heavily, and screeching to a halt on the side of the road. She turned to face him, her eyes wild. “Ten? Twenty? A hundred?”
“Closer to twenty. Why?”
She closed her eyes, finally sending the tears down her cheeks. “I can’t believe I slept with you,” she whispered. “You get paid to kill people. I never should have let you into my house. I have a daughter, Hunter. And she needs a father, not a trained killer in the next room. I need someone in our lives who will be there for us. To do things like cook dinner or take out the trash, to mow the lawn and go to the movies with. I don’t need someone who owns more guns than pants, and who pays the bills by ending lives. I’m sorry. I let this go much too far.”
“You’re telling me,” he snapped back.
He knew this was a mistake. Hadn’t he thought that earlier? That getting too close to her was a mistake? That having feelings for her would only cause problems? And sure enough, now she was flipping out on him for not being the family man he never claimed to be.
“If you can’t trust me, then don’t go to the farm,” he said.
“I’m not saying that I can’t trust you,” she said slowly. She seemed to be calmer now. Slightly. “You’ve proven that much to me. And you’ve protected me. I’m not saying I don’t appreciate all you’ve done for me, for us. I do. I just can’t…” She bit her lip and looked away. “I just can’t.”
“Fine.” A new plan came to his mind. He needed to do what he’d promised and get on with it. No more time to mess around. “I have a new plan. Take me back to my hotel.”
She pulled back onto the road and drove at a normal speed. Their silence spoke volumes. There was no way they could ever have a relationship. No matter how much he wanted her or she thought she had wanted him, it would never work. He wasn’t the kind and loving office worker who’d go off to the job all day and come home and be Daddy and Hubby. This was who he was. If she didn’t like it, fine. He knew she wasn’t his type from the start, and this was just his confirmation. Further proof that it wasn’t worth it to fall for someone. In his line of work, getting involved only meant trouble. He didn’t have time or patience for trouble. He had a job to do.
