Raw Redemption (Crossing the Line #4)(42)

He watched Ailish as she scanned the woods. “I bet you wish camping was your thing about now.”

Suspicion trickled in at her thoughtful tone, lifting Henrik’s antenna. “If you’re thinking about running again, Ailish, I wouldn’t suggest it.”

She actually had the nerve to look hurt. “I’m not.”

Tension reigned inside the car, their gazes clashing as the sirens drew closer. At least four police vehicles, if the overlapping wails were any indication. Henrik placed his fingertips on the door handle, and Ailish did the same. To run from the cops? Or him? Fuck, he couldn’t read her. And there was no time to talk, because the peals of sound were even with them, roaring past the forest as they stayed perfectly still and waited. Waited.

It seemed as if an hour had passed when silence finally greeted their ears. No crunching of forest ground, so Henrik knew the local law enforcement weren’t creeping up behind them, either, hoping to employ the element of surprise. Very slowly, so Ailish could see his actions, Henrik applied the safety feature on his gun and slid it back into his jeans’ waistband. “Stay right there. I’ll come around to get you. Understand?”

“Then what?” Ailish blurted.

“We’re leaving the truck and walking. I’ll find us another ride.”

“And then we’re headed to Chicago, right?” Her gaze cut to the forest, then back. “Tell me why I shouldn’t try to run again.”

“Besides the fact that I’ll catch you?” He shoved the door open, but made no move to climb out of the truck. “I’ve secured you a deal with Chicago PD. If you cooperate in the case against your father—from a distance—there will be no charges brought against you, including your work under the Bookie Cookie pseudonym.”

The strain around her eyes eased a bit. “You told the police?”

“I told the captain as much as I had to, Ailish.” He punctuated the air with a finger. “I put as many necessary cards on the table to get you clear, in spite of everything. But he’s a smart man. He made the deal knowing damn well there’s more to come.” His breath was uneven. “When we give the captain your alternate identity, I needed to make sure he couldn’t find a way to use it.”

Her hand fell from the door handle into her lap. “What about you? Are you just going to turn me over to your captain and leave?”

“Not for good.” He swallowed the golf ball–sized lump in his throat, brought on by the idea of leaving her behind, even for a small space of time. “Long enough to get what we need on Caine from the inside.”

“He’ll know,” she whispered. “He won’t be fooled.”

Henrik alighted from the truck and paused, looking back at Ailish where she sat frozen in the passenger seat. “Your word won’t be enough on its own, especially in light of your arrest. We need something solid.”

“And I’m going to help you figure out what that thing is? Is that right?”

The apprehension she was trying to lock behind her bravado made him want to climb back into the truck, pick a spot on the map, and just drive. As far away from Chicago as they could get. But they would always be running, looking over their shoulder. And who was to say she even wanted to run with him? Even now, she wanted to sprint through the forest, leaving him in the dust. This course of action was in her best interest, even if she didn’t realize it yet.

“If you want your deal,” he said, “Chicago is the answer.”

Henrik slammed the door on her response.

They had a vehicle to steal.





Chapter Twelve


Awareness prickled along Ailish’s skin when Henrik opened the passenger-side door. His gaze fell to her bare legs, that throat of his working in a way that was now comforting. Familiar. But when she thought he might reach out and caress her skin, he popped the glove box instead and removed a set of handcuffs.

“What are you doing?”

His stoic expression was carved in stone. “I can’t risk you running again. We only have another day to get back to Chicago, and there’s no room for setbacks at this point.” He dipped his chin once. “Get out of the truck and turn around.”

It was on the tip of Ailish’s tongue to claim she wouldn’t run, but it was obvious Henrik wouldn’t believe her. Rightly so. But her running now would have had less to do with not trusting Henrik—especially now that he’d relayed his plan—and more to do with keeping them both alive. Caine wouldn’t let either of them live once he realized he’d been crossed. No one understood but her, and Henrik was beyond listening.

Seeing no choice but to obey him for now, Ailish turned and very slowly slipped off the passenger seat, noting the way his nostrils flared when her shirt rode up and exposed her stomach, the underside of her breasts. Lord, she was far from unaffected, too, a fact that obviously didn’t go unnoticed as their breath mingled between them. The cuffs dangled at Henrik’s side, his head tipped forward so their foreheads were in danger of touching. “Turn around,” Henrik ordered, his voice rasping like two pieces of brittle sandpaper.

Something in Ailish’s chest kicked up a brutal rebellion at the suffering in Henrik’s voice, surprising her in its intensity. For just a second, she shut down the dread threatening to run amok in her gut and looked at Henrik. Really looked. And listened to the heart knocking against her ribs. This beautiful, protective man had shown up on her doorstep, and while he’d been secretive, he’d put himself at risk to keep her safe. Kissed her, touched her, with such passion, her legs trembled at the sweltering memories of those stolen moments. “Who are you, Henrik?”