Dane. She stilled the curse that rage fed to her lips. He had been Cassie’s father. Not a good man, but Elizabeth hadn’t believed he was essentially a bad man, either. Not until he had placed his daughter’s life in danger in an attempt to save his own skin. The bastard hadn’t even cared what he was doing to the little girl. All he cared about was saving himself.
It sickened her to think of the bargain he had made with the man he had been stealing from. How easily he had betrayed Cassie, hoping to escape his own punishment.
“Maybe Dash will come tonight,” the little girl mumbled softly to herself, barely loud enough for Elizabeth to hear the words. “Do you think he will?”
She wasn’t talking to her, Elizabeth knew. When the shock and stress was this great, Cassie turned inward, to herself. She talked to the fairy that she swore followed them. A bright, tiny little form that whispered comfort to her, that assured her Dash Sinclair was a good daddy name. And that Dash would save them.
God, she wanted to scream out in rage that her child had been reduced to such fairy tales to survive the mental and emotional cruelties being inflicted on her. Cassie was so certain the soldier she had been writing to would rescue them both and they would all live happily ever after. She didn’t know how to explain to her daughter that men, no matter how strong or how kind, wanted no part of the trouble they would bring.
Not that the soldier hadn’t made her daughter’s life brighter for a while; the bicycle she had been given only a few short months to enjoy, a small doll that Elizabeth had seen torn to shreds in that damned apartment. And she knew he had been behind the gifts of food that had come for such a short while. She had appreciated the gesture, but it had been just another burden. Another person to worry about.
She wondered if he had even realized Cassie’s letters had stopped coming to him. If he had even cared. He didn’t know them, had nothing invested in them, and he was half a world away. If he did bother to check, he would believe they had died in that apartment explosion last winter. Damn. It had been close. They nearly had died. The bastards chasing them couldn’t even set up a decent assassination properly.
And now, here her daughter sat, another broken dream shredding her soul apart because she had believed so deeply that Dash Sinclair would be there. That he was searching desperately for them. That they wouldn’t have to run anymore. Cassie had been watching for him for a week now, hope gleaming in her eyes each time she caught sight of a tall, dark-haired
man. Daily, the little girl studied the fuzzy, out of focus picture he had sent her, terrified that if she didn’t recognize the soldier herself, then he might pass by them without knowing who they were. The picture was taken in front of a helicopter with six other men. Dash stood in the rear, dusty, dressed in Army fatigues, his features blurred. She wouldn’t recognize him if he walked up to her.
“Eat, Cassie,” Elizabeth whispered, reaching across the booth to smooth back her daughter’s tangled dark curls from her white face. “We’ll get a room for the night and see if we can get some rest.” If Cassie didn’t sleep soon she would become ill. Elizabeth shuddered at the thought of trying to find medical help for her.
The attached motel seemed reasonable. A few hours of sleep wouldn’t hurt either of them. There was no way anything or anyone was moving in that blizzard outside. No one except the moron pulling into the parking lot in the military Hummer, that is.
Elizabeth watched as a large dark figure exited the vehicle before striding quickly to the door of the diner. He stepped inside, larger than life, looking stronger than a mountain, his eyes going immediately to her and Cassie. For a moment, fear shook her before she pushed it away.
No. The men chasing her weren’t that dangerous, that hard. If they were, she would have been toast two years ago. He was tall, one of the tallest men she had ever seen. Dressed in jeans, boots and a cotton shirt. Thick black hair grew rakishly long, falling over the collar of his shirt. Intense brown eyes, almost the color of amber, surveyed the diner slowly before coming back to her. Electricity sizzled in the air then, as though invisible currents connected them, forcing her to recognize him on a primitive level. Not that she wouldn’t take notice anyway. He was power, strength, and so incredibly male that her breath caught at the sight of him.
She watched his eyes flare with… No, that wasn’t possession. She was losing her mind. Sleep deprivation and pain had brought her so low that she was seeing only what she knew she wanted to see. It wasn’t possible that a stranger could see her, feel possession, hunger and determination to the extent that she thought she had glimped in his gaze before it became shuttered.
For the first time in years Elizabeth felt her hormones flare to life. That look was almost physical. A caress. A statement of intent. She blinked and shook her head at the hallucination. No. He was just a big, good-looking man, and she was getting desperate. Desperate to find help. To know her daughter was protected. He was big enough to appear able to protect them both. But she knew by now that no one could protect them. It had been driven home forcibly time and time again.
She lowered her head, watching Cassie once again as the little girl listlessly nibbled one of the fries from her plate. She had only taken a few bites of the hamburger, mostly because Elizabeth had forced her to.
“You have to eat, baby,” she whispered softly, fighting to hide her tears. “It’s okay now. I promise.”
“I’m tired, Momma.” Cassie dragged a fry through the ketchup now, but didn’t eat it. She was merely playing with it, and only halfheartedly at best.
“Eat, Cassie. And drink your milk.” She pushed the glass closer to the little girl, her heart breaking as Cassie raised her head, staring at her with bleak, horror-ridden eyes.
Elizabeth had to fight to still her scream of outrage. No child should ever stare out of such shattered eyes.
“Dash will come tonight, Momma.” Tear-filled eyes stared back at her, so heartbreakingly sad that Elizabeth wanted to die rather than continue to face them.
“Baby…” How could she tell her? How could she explain that there was no way Dash Sinclair could even know they were alive, let alone that once again, their killers were only hours behind them?
The last attack wasn’t the worst event of their long months on the run, but it was one of the hardest. The men had been waiting on them. If Elizabeth hadn’t locked the basement door behind them and found the window so quickly, then they would have been dead. As it was, a bullet had grazed her thigh, and then she had sliced her waist on the jagged window. She was weak and hungry herself. But she was afraid if she spent more money on food tonight then there would be none to feed Cassie later.
A movement from the man still standing by the door had her head lifting, a feeling of panic suddenly overwhelming her as his cool brown eyes met hers. His face was savagely honed. Perfectly angled for a warrior. Or maybe an assassin. Could Dane’s enemies have gotten tired of trying to do the job themselves?
On the heels of that thought, he began moving toward them. He didn’t just walk; he glided. Smooth powerful muscles rippled beneath the shirt and jeans, bringing him closer by the second. As he neared them, his arm moved, slowly reaching behind his back.
Elizabeth stiffened fearfully; ready to jump over the table to shield Cassie if a gun appeared. Dear God. What now? They were trapped. Unable to run. No place to hide.
A grin tugged at the stranger’s lips, as though he could sense her thoughts. It wasn’t a gun he pulled out, though, but a wrinkled piece of paper. She watched, her heart in her chest, fear burning in her belly even as a strange, displaced desire warmed her thighs.
He stopped at the booth, staring down at her, then at Cassie. Elizabeth looked over at her daughter, seeing the rounded eyes, her pale cheeks.
“Cassie,” he murmured as he handed her the paper. “I got your letter.”
Elizabeth felt the world tilt as Cassie whispered his name. “Dash?”