There. One man dropped. Another scrambled into an old Lincoln and screeched out onto the main drag.

Winters lowered the rifle down but held it close. Without the assistance of the scope, he scanned the parking lot again. Nothing else seemed out of place. Someone shouted from an adjoining room and gunpowder burned in the air.

“Dinner’s over. Come on. We need to roll out of here.” He yanked Mia’s arm, pulling her off the glass-covered carpet. She stood on shaking knees and nodded but remained frozen like a statue.

“Let’s go, Mia.” He reloaded his handgun with a quick slam of the magazine, threw the rifle over his shoulder, and tucked a combat knife into his boot. She still hadn’t moved. He wrapped his arm around her waist and carried her out the door.

He took one more look around, crossed to his truck, and put her in the passenger seat. She clutched the bag of clothes he’d bought for her. When the hell did she grab that? He rushed to his door, slammed the keys in the ignition, and squealed tires.

“Glad to see you appreciate my shopping.” She slowly turned toward him. “Time to give it up. What’s with the package?”

She shook and stared numbly out the vehicle’s tinted window. Her teeth chattered as if an arctic breeze blew from the vents. White knuckled, her fingers splayed, and nails dug into the seat.

He snapped his fingers twice in a row. “Mia, honey. You can’t go into shock on me now. Come on, girl.”

That got her attention. She scooted closer to him, appearing thankful for the pickup’s bench seat and leaned against his arm. “They’re trying to kill me. I’m going to die.”

“And we’re not going to let that happen. But you have to let me know what’s going on. You have to trust me. Can you do that?” He checked his mirror to change lanes but also inspected her for chattering teeth and white knuckles. Both had disappeared. Progress.

Hell, she felt good against his arm. She locked eyes with him, and for a moment, he forgot where they were and what they were doing. It was those dark, sultry eyes. How did he miss those earlier? They were as dark as his, but hers were still bloodshot from the tear gas bombs.

He pulled his gaze back. That didn’t last more than a second and scanned her again. He didn’t notice the sweater or the dirt or her terror but rather the supple mounds of her breasts.

Where was his mind? Sure as shit, not paying attention to his surroundings. He’d been concerned about getting her fresh clothes and some food. He should have known they’d be tracking him. Or her.

“Mia, tell me what you know, and I’ll figure out the rest.” Her warmth pressed against his arm.

“I’m a therapist at a military base outside DC. I’d been seeing a patient who recently returned from a covert op in South America. Mostly routine stuff. But overnight he became…” Her voice cracked.