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.
She had cleaned them earlier in the diner’s bathroom, pouring alcohol straight into the wounds while Cassie stood trembling, watching her. It had been agonizing. More painful than actually receiving the wounds. But she knew she couldn’t afford the infection. If she got sick then there was no way she could protect her baby.
Her hand trembled, her stomach roiling with remembered panic as she thought of the agonizing flight down the apartment stairwell when she fought to get to the basement. Out of habit, she had pulled into the back of the apartment building rather than from the parking lot. It was rarely used and she had felt more comfortable parking there.
The back door was hard to open from the inside, though, and she couldn’t afford the precious minutes it would have taken to put Cassie down to open it. The basement door was easier and it had a bolt on the inside. She had slid the thick bolt home quickly before rushing to the line of washers and the often-open small window. She and Cassie had barely made it out before the men had busted through the door. The car had only been a few steps ahead. The doors were still unlocked and, thankfully, she kept her keys tucked in her jeans pocket rather than carrying a purse.
The past two years had been horrifying. Terrance Grange never gave up. He was like a pit bull, his jaws clamped on tight, refusing to let go or to give her any peace. At first, she had prayed that if she merely ran, forgot about going to the police, stayed quiet and hid, he would leave them alone. But he wanted Cassie. His men had made that clear. Give Terrance Cassie, then she could go free, do whatever the hell she wanted. He didn’t give a damn about Elizabeth. He just wanted her daughter. The perverted bastard. She knew exactly why he wanted her baby, and she would die before she would allow it. But what if she did die and he still managed to get Cassie? Icy terror lodged in her chest at the thought. She wasn’t strong enough to fight much longer. And she was learning just how adept Grange was at cutting off every avenue of escape she could find. He killed the people who tried to help her. Killed them or paid them off, leaving her with nowhere to turn. Had he paid off Dash Sinclair?
As he talked to the waiter, Elizabeth moved slowly from her seat. He turned his back on her, surveying a small row of teddy bears behind the counter, obviously intent on picking one out. Would he buy a teddy bear for a child he was going to betray?
She took a deep breath. God, she wanted to trust him. Wanted to believe he could help her, but she had learned better over the past two years. Had learned she could trust no one but herself. She eased Cassie from the seat, her breath hitching in despair at the painful thinness of her little girl’s body. Then she glanced out at the parking lot, fear streaking through her. They could die out there. What the hell was she supposed to do?
“I’ll get her.” She jerked around, her eyes wide, arms tightening protectively around her little girl. Dash watched her somberly. For once, his gaze wasn’t demanding, wasn’t glittering with heat and anger. It was still, understanding, as he gripped Cassie beneath her thin arms and lifted her easily from Elizabeth’s.
“Don’t hurt her.” She couldn’t stop the plea. For the moment, she had no choice but to trust him. She knew it and it was like a blade digging into her heart. “Please don’t hurt her.”
Gentle arms cradled Cassie’s body against his broad chest as savage eyes stared down at her with a hint of compassion.