Big Easy Temptation (The Perfect Gentlemen #3)(85)

Already Dax could feel the heat as her thin curtains flamed and the carpet caught fire. He ran for the files as another bottle sailed onto the balcony and added to the flames. He could hear more gunfire but it didn’t matter—nothing did except getting Holland out. He grabbed one of the laptops and the file folder, leaving everything else behind.

“Go,” he ordered, aware they had to escape onto the street to avoid the blaze . . . where they would have nowhere to hide.

Holland snatched up his bag from the couch and slung it over her shoulder. It would give them an extra weapon. He would take it.

He took her hand and threaded their fingers together. No way he was losing her.

“The door in the back leads out to the streets. Unless they have someone on the top of the building or waiting for us, we should be able to slip out and take one of the side streets away from the Quarter. We can get in touch with the police from there.”

He already had his cell in hand. One of the great things about dating Holland Kirk was that when assholes tried to assassinate them, he could divert his attention enough to call for help because his woman knew what she was doing. She took the lead, making sure the hall and stairway were empty as they began their descent.

He called the cavalry. It only took a single ring for Connor to answer.

“What’s happening, brother? Is Holland proving to be stubborn? I hope so because Lara and I have a bet riding on this. Actually, I have a bet. She told me it was nasty and inhumane to bet on a friend’s love life.”

Good for Lara. “No time. Someone just took a shot at us and torched Holland’s apartment. I need a safe house. We’re heading out of the city and I’ll call when it’s safe. Make transportation arrangements for us, too.” He disconnected the call and slid the phone in his pocket.

“We should make our way to the police station,” Holland said.

“I’m rethinking NOLA PD involvement, sweetheart. Only two groups know I’m in town—the cops and your team.”

Her jaw tightened as they made it to her building’s back door. “You think someone on one of the teams is working for the mob and you’re probably right. Both teams also knew I had the photos. One of them has to be responsible for this.”

As he poked his head outside, he cursed. “Damn it. You take the nine and I’ll take the three.”

She nodded, and they both burst through, him veering left and ensuring no one shot them from that direction, and her preventing the same on the right. When their surroundings looked clear, he took her hand again.

“Let’s head toward Canal Street. We can find a bar and wait until Connor calls.”

She gritted her teeth, as though the idea of running upset her. But she slid her gun into the back of her jeans and hid it with her shirt, nodding. “All right. I need to text my uncle though, otherwise he’ll put a BOLO on my ass.”

The last thing they needed was the police hunting them. Oh, someone on the force might be, but they didn’t need it to be official. “All right. Let’s go.”

He squeezed her hand and they lost themselves in the crowds as sirens filled the air.

As they crept out of the Quarter, Dax had to wonder about that woman who’d screamed a warning for them to move.

Her identity was a mystery, but one he intended to solve.


*

Holland frowned at the text as Dax turned off the highway and straight into bayou country.


Worried about you. Call me when you can. And watch your back. Trouble is following your old boyfriend everywhere. He’s not to be trusted.

Her uncle. She’d managed to convince him not to send a SWAT team her way, but he wasn’t convinced she was safe. Of course, since it looked as if she was headed into Deliverance territory, she wasn’t certain, either.

“Do you know where you’re going? Are you sure this is where Connor told us to hide out?” Because she’d just seen an alligator lazing on the roadside and that didn’t give her a warm fuzzy.

Dax grinned as though this was all just one big adventure. “What’s wrong, city girl? Can’t handle a few critters? I thought you were raised in New Orleans.”

“Exactly. New Orleans. I was raised in the city, not the swamp. My aunt always told me the swamp was for gators, tourists who wanted to get eaten by gators, and criminals who knew no one wanted to hang out with gators. Which of those categories does your friend fall into?”

If anything, his lips tugged up higher. “He falls into the crazy motherfucker category.”

“You’re awfully happy for a man on the run.”

He turned back to the road with a shrug. “I wouldn’t say I’m happy. I’m just content that we’re going to solve this thing. Now that we’re on our own, we’re going to focus.”

“Focus? You think I haven’t been focused? I’ve spent years trying to figure this damn mystery out.”

“How about this, then?” he said. “I’m optimistic because we’re together. We’re a good team. The last time we worked a case together we were so damn good the Russian mob came after us.”

“And that was such a plus.” He was infuriating and yet she found herself smiling at him.

“Call it what you like, but we’re perfect together.”

He focused on the road again and she fell silent. She should probably disagree . . . but she didn’t.