“I didn’t say we’d have smooth sailing, I just said we could do it.” He shrugged. “It’s your choice, Elizabeth. You can come with me and live, or keep running until the bastards take you down and take Cassie away from you.”
She drew in a hard, deep breath. Dash knew she was aware that eventually she would fail. She didn’t have the connections or the power to protect herself and her child. She was a woman alone and learning exactly what that meant.
“And how do I know I can trust you?” she asked him mockingly. “I don’t know you, Mr. Sinclair, and I sure as hell don’t believe you would chase us for six months out of the goodness of your heart.”
Dash glanced down at Cassie. When he returned his gaze to Elizabeth he knew his own anger was flaring in the depths of his eyes.
“Wrong, lady.” He wanted to growl with the strength of his sense of ownership toward the two females. “She saved my worthless life when it didn’t matter to anyone but her. And I’ll be damned if I’ll let her or the mother she loves die. Now it’s your choice if you come with me or if you stay. But Cassie will be protected. She goes with me.”
He watched Elizabeth’s eyes widen as fear shadowed them further. Dammit, he hated seeing her eyes go dark with terror rather than the pleasure he wanted to bring her. He could see it snaking through her, knew it would be chilling her blood as she fought to find a way to fight back. She was a strong woman and having control taken from her wouldn’t be easy for her to accept. But he had to do it. Had to establish authority with her and Cassie if he was going to pull this off.
A frown snapped in place over her eyes. Battle glittered in the fierce depths. His cock hardened, which was more than disconcerting for the situation and location they were in.
“That’s my daughter you’re talking about,” she finally hissed as she leaned forward, anger shaking through her. Which sure as hell beat the lethargy he had seen in her moments before. “You don’t do a damned thing without my permission.”
Blood surged through his body, hot and exhilarating, as her scent flowed to him, wrapping around him. She was aroused. Not a lot, curiously aroused maybe, a bit shy. He liked that. Liked that shyness, that hesitancy. But even stronger was her sudden anger. Her child. Her responsibility. She wouldn’t let it go easily. Even to him. Which meant he would have to fight her for it. He was looking forward to that fight.
“Your permission?” He tried to keep his voice soft, but he was aware of the throbbing growl resonating just beneath the surface of his words. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not asking for anything here, Elizabeth. I’m telling you. I didn’t travel halfway across the world and chase your pretty little butt across half the United States only to have you pat my head and send me on my way. You can accept this gracefully, or we can just go ahead and fight it out. But I promise you, baby, I know who’s going to win in the end.”
Her eyes widened in incredulity.
“Are you insane?” she finally asked him curiously. “Or do you just have a death wish, Mr. Sinclair? If you know what I’m facing then you know the men he’s already killed to get to me. Do you really want to end up being the next bloody body he leaves in his wake?”
She was smart. He had known that all along. The mocking condescension in her expression and her voice would have given any other man pause.
“Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of making him the next bloody body I leave in my wake,” he said casually. “Make no mistake, Elizabeth. I’m not so easily brought down.”
More than one terrorist had tried, men more diseased than Grange with a larger network of evil to back them. Dash knew well how to play this game and how to succeed.
He watched her then, sensed the battle waging within her, her instinctive knowledge that if anyone were capable of saving them, it was him. But she also doubted that there was any hope for her and Cassie to survive, period. Hope was slowly dimming within his mate.
He stood casually to his feet, laying little Cassie gently in the seat as he did so. Then he leaned in close, his hand flat on the table, his nose merely inches from hers as she stared back at him in surprise.
“We leave in five minutes. Me and Cassie, or you, me and Cassie. As I said, it’s your choice.”
Her eyes narrowed, her delicate little nostrils flaring as heat swept into her cheeks. He could smell her excitement now, but he also smelled blood.
“I won’t let you…”
He leaned closer. “You’re hurt,” he snarled in her face as she jerked back from his fury. “Fight me now and I promise you’ll regret it. Now get ready to pull out of here. We’re leaving.”
He didn’t give her time to comment. He straightened up, giving her one last hard look before turning and stalking to the counter. The husky ex-soldier waited, watching him with narrowed, appraising eyes as he neared.
“She’s in trouble.” The balding head nodded to Elizabeth as Dash stopped in front of him. It wasn’t a question. The man had an extra sense for trouble. It was something you learned in combat, something you never forgot.
“And I’m here to get her out of it,” Dash growled. “But I need a favor.”
Mac stared back down at Elizabeth and Cassie. “I haven’t made the call, but there’s a lot of money being offered for information on those two. “ His gaze turned back to Dash. The hazel depths were hard and cold. “Tell me what you need, boy.”
Chapter Three
What was she to do? Elizabeth watched as Dash paid for their meals, then bought several bottles of water and snack chips as he talked to the waiter. Their voices were low, almost imperative. They were discussing more than the price for a bag of potato chips.
She bit her lip hard, breathing in deeply as she fought to clear her head of the exhaustion and pain. It had been harder in the last six or eight months. As though Grange had grown tired of playing with her. She rarely had more than a few days to rest, to work some under-the-table job for less than minimum wage before she was on the run again. And Cassie. God, it was killing Cassie and she knew it. She couldn’t keep running like this. She had to find someplace to hide her baby while they both healed, body and soul.
Her hand fell from the countertop, pressing against the deep gash in her thigh where the bullet had torn through the flesh. It wasn’t too deep. It could have probably used a few stitches but she considered herself lucky. It
could have been a hell of a lot worse. The one in her side from the basement window paled in comparison, though it, too, was fairly deep.