Deep Trouble: A MacKenzie Family Novella (The MacKenzie Family) (4 page)

Although Devon hated his next question, he had to be sure. “And you saw the whole thing happen—you didn’t just hear it or see your boss after the fact?”

Kylie’s head moved up and down, her dark hair swishing against her shoulders as they crossed back into the motel’s parking lot. “I, uh…yeah. I saw the shooting happen, and then Fagan tried to kill me, but I got away, so…”

Devon’s blood turned subarctic in his veins. More questions swarmed his brain, but truly, his number one priority was to hustle Kylie inside so they could wait for Kellan in safety before she said another syllable.

He scanned the parking lot. Three pickups. Two SUVs. The rusted-out Toyota. Kylie’s Mustang. No people. “Okay. Let’s go up to the room and get you out of sight. Then—”

Devon stopped short.

Two SUVs. Not one.

“We need to move.” He slung an arm around the slim line of Kylie’s shoulders, leaning in to drop the words in her ear. “Slow and easy, Kylie.” His hand found his SIG in exactly that fashion, fingers closing around the butt of the gun as he steered her toward the back of the motel.

“But I thought you said…oh my God.” Her entire frame went bowstring tight, her head whipping toward the SUV. “The guy getting out of that Escalade. That’s him. That’s
him
.”

Yup. Time to freaking get gone. “My car is behind the motel. Don’t look back. Just go.”

Kylie turned the corner, her breath hitching with audible relief. “I see it. I think we can get there in time.”

They were four paces from freedom when the first shot whizzed past Devon’s ear.

Chapter Three

The sharp edges of fear that Kylie had just managed to smooth into submission burst back through her at warp speed. Her boots slapped the pavement, her body unable to move fast enough to obey the primal demand pumping down from her brain

Run
.

The running lights on the sleek black muscle car in front of her glowed a dusky gold, the engine growling to life as she hurtled closer. A loud pop-pop-pop registered in her ears, the sound not making any sense until she saw Devon swing around with a gun in his hand to fire off a round, then two in return.

Oh my God, they were going to die.

“We’re not going to die,” Devon said, making Kylie realize she’d spoken the words out loud. “Just get in the car and keep your head down.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. She yanked the door handle hard enough to make her fingers smart, throwing herself into the passenger side of the car and curling her arms over her head. Devon was right beside her, jamming the key in place to keep the remote-start circuit running as he threw the car into gear and tore out of the back lot.

“Are we safe?” Confusion filtered past the slam of Kylie’s heartbeat. She poked her head up in an effort to at least try to see what was going on, but Devon’s steely stare pinned her into place, mid-move.

“No.” He leaned into the accelerator even harder, making the engine roar. “Stay down. And put your seatbelt on.”

Three tries later, she finally got the stupid thing clicked into place over her chest. “I’m sorry. I did everything Kellan said. I don’t know how he found me—”

“Whoever this Fagan guy is, he’s not here for amateur night. When you started working at this bar, you filled out paperwork, right?”

“Yeah,” Kylie said. “Job application, tax stuff…” Oh God. “And a copy of my driver’s license.”

Devon cursed under his breath, as if he didn’t want her to hear it. “Then chances are he’s got a lock on your identity. Do you have any local family? A boyfriend? Roommate? Anyone?”

Her head shook, along with the rest of her. “No.”

“Good.” He blew past the on-ramp to the highway, making a rough turn down a narrow side street. Although Devon’s stare was lasered in on the rearview mirror, he maneuvered the car forward with ease, finally pulling into a makeshift parking lot behind a scrap metal yard. He backed into a spot by a rickety shed, scanning their surroundings one last time before killing both the lights and the engine.

“We’re going to
stop
?” Kylie’s jaw fell open. She sat upright to protest some more, but Devon’s hand landed on her shoulder, keeping her scrunched down in the passenger seat.

“We got a pretty decent jump on Fagan, although I have no doubt he tried to follow us.” Devon unbuckled his seat belt, methodically checking the clip on the big black gun he’d had in his grasp ever since they’d taken the holy shit route out of the motel parking lot. “Chances are he’ll assume we hit the highway to outrun him.”

“And we didn’t why, exactly?” Outrunning that maniac sounded freaking fantastic to her.

“Because that’s what he thinks we’ll do. Probably,” he tacked on.

“Probably,” Kylie repeated, her heart pounding so hard surely Devon could feel it where his fingers still splayed over her shoulder and neck.

He shifted his weight against the driver’s seat, swiveling his gaze through the shadows being cast by the lone dingy bulb at the opposite end of the scrap yard. “You told your brother Fagan has connections with some bad police. Did you call nine-one-one tonight? Even for a second?”

“Oh.” Kylie blinked, trying like hell to keep her mind on the question and not the fact that they might get discovered, shot, and left for dead. In that order. “Um, Xavier bragged that he has half the police force in his back pocket, all the way up to the Feds. I was scared that if I called nine-one-one, he’d know where I was, so no. I didn’t even try.”

Devon tipped his head in a nonverbal
smart move
. “If Fagan’s got cops on his payroll, it explains how he found us. He probably pulled your registration from the DMV database. After that, it was just a matter of looking for places you might hide.”

Kylie cursed her stupidity for staying put. “I knew I should’ve kept driving.” Her pulse picked up the pace, and she cut a glance in the direction of the road beside them. Not that she could see anything other than the shadow-lined interior of Devon’s car with how she was slumped way down in her seat. “Don’t you think he’ll find us again? I mean, we’re only what? Five miles from the motel?”

Devon lifted a shoulder, his leather jacket shushing in the dark. “We just have to lie low and wait to find out. Speaking of which, slide down lower in your seat so you’re completely out of sight. You can move it back a little farther if you need room for your legs.”

She did what he asked even though logic warred with her instinct to trust him. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t this make us sitting ducks?”

“No. It makes us tactically smart. Fagan is probably tearing up the highway right now with his hair on fire trying to find us in a place that we’re not. We have a clear path to the on-ramp as an exit strategy on the off chance he didn’t bite. I know I can outrun that Escalade he’s in.” Devon flicked a glance through the windshield at the hood of the muscle car. “But I don’t want to unless I have to.”

“Oh.”
Way to offer up the lamest response in the galaxy
. Devon’s plan made sense, she guessed. At least, it would have if sitting still wasn’t going to give her the mother of all panic attacks.

Kylie swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus on something that wasn’t the possibility of Fagan finding them in short order. Her eyes landed on Devon, and she took a minute to really check him out.

He looked so different than the quiet, easy-to-smile guy she remembered, to the point that she hadn’t recognized him in the parking lot. Now that her vision had adjusted to the scant light and the shadows in the car, she could make out his harder features in detail—the sharp blade of his nose, strong cheekbones, firm mouth. His hair was dark blond, but really, that was half a guess since it was short enough to make her unsure. Although he’d lifted his hand from her shoulder in order to take a low, defensive position in the driver’s seat, Devon was still within less than arm’s reach, his body coiled with controlled tension.

Oh, his body. Even through his jeans and leather jacket, Kylie had been able to discern that he was bigger and more imposing than he’d been five years ago, one hundred percent muscle. Hell, he’d been pressed against her hard enough in the parking lot to prove it. But Devon wasn’t just bulk, clumsy force with no follow-through. His body was dangerous and graceful all at once, as if he was spring-loaded, just waiting to unleash that intensity onto something. Someone.

Jeez
, it was hell-hot in this car.

“Devon, I—”

“Shh!” His demeanor changed in an instant. A ripple in the shadows on the dashboard at eye level told Kylie headlights had appeared at the top of the side road leading back to the highway, and oh God. She knew—she
knew
Xavier was too smart and too mean not to find them.

“Devon. Oh my God, what do we do?” Panic lanced through her chest, spreading out to seize all four of her limbs in less than a breath.

With a lightning-fast turn of his wrist, Devon had his weapon at the ready, his frame dropping low across the front seat. The move flattened his back across her chest and belly, and even though his legs remained on the driver’s side of the car, considering the size of his six-foot-plus frame? He couldn’t be comfortable draped halfway over her.

“Shh. Easy.” The sound arrived on less than a whisper, Devon’s whiskey-brown eyes flashing up to hers as the headlights drew closer. He gripped his gun with his right hand, holding it carefully at his side, but no way could they just sit here and wait to get blasted.

“Devon.” She pushed the word out as calmly as possible, but his body tensed all the same. His free hand lifted to her mouth, his forefinger and middle finger applying just enough pressure to keep her from adding to the convo. Kylie noticed then that he’d moved so his mouth was only inches from hers, his breath slow and warm between them, and she scraped for an inhale despite the cold shards of fear spiking all the way through her.

We’re not going to die
. Devon’s voice echoed in her head. His stare pierced the changing shadows, calculating, watching, taking in every shift and nuance. The headlights approached at a steady pace, ratcheting Kylie’s heartbeat faster and faster as the interior of the car grew brighter.

Devon’s fingers curled against her lips just a fraction harder as if to say, steady…steady…

And then the car passed by without any fanfare, not even braking as it continued down the side street and off into the dead of the Montana night.

“Kylie. It’s okay. We’re safe.”

Her breath escaped in a dizzying whoosh. Afraid that if she opened her mouth to respond, she’d do something stupid like start to cry, Kylie simply nodded, but holy crap, she wasn’t going to be able to keep it together much longer.

Her boss was dead. Murdered. Fagan was after her; he knew who she was. He wasn’t going to stop until he found her, and when he did, he was going to—

“Kylie, look at me.”

Under any other circumstances, she’d probably have bristled at being bossed around. But somewhere between the blood and the bullets and the bad guy, everything had hurtled out of her control, and God, why couldn’t she
breathe
?

“I…I…”

Nope. No go. Her chest squeezed, constricting as if all the air had been sucked out of the car and replaced with liquid cement. A tremble worked its way up from her very center, and the ripple effect made her shiver and sweat at the same time. Devon’s fingers slid from where they’d been resting over her lips, hooking gently in her hair as he put his face directly in her line of vision.

“Hey. Hey.” His whisper was soft, so unlike the one that had come before to quiet her and so
very
unlike his rock-hard demeanor that Kylie blinked, her panic slipping just an inch.

“There we go, yeah,” Devon murmured. “Look at me.” His thumb found the spot on her jaw just below her ear, smoothing a slow circle over the skin there, and the movement snagged enough of her attention to keep her shaking in check. Sort of.

Devon leaned in, his chest covering hers in strong, steady warmth. “Whoever was in that car was just passing by, okay? See—no lights. No sounds. Nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn’t our guy.”

Kylie’s heartbeat continued to slam, the white noise whoosh of her blood pressing hard against her eardrums despite her desire to be tough. “F-Fagan could still be coming. He could still find us.”

“He could. But we wouldn’t be sitting here for a second if I thought he
would
.”

This time, Kylie’s blink was one of slow realization. “So…are we safe? Can we get out of here now?” Please, God, she just needed to get out of here, out of this car and this state and this whole situation.

“I think we’re okay,” Devon said, although he didn’t let go of her. “But I want to give it a few more minutes, just to be on the safe side.”

Her throat knotted. “Devon, I can’t. Please, I need to—”

“Breathe,” he finished, and funny how her lungs got on board with that quiet, commanding voice. “I need you calm, Kylie. I need you with me.”

With him. Right. She could do this. She
could
. “Mmkay,” she murmured, although she still wasn’t convinced she was anywhere close to okay.

Which must have made two of them, because Devon didn’t budge. “What’s your favorite thing to eat for dinner?”

“What?”

The question was so ridiculously out of place, but still, he didn’t take it back. “Mine’s chicken Parm, although it’s tough to go wrong with a good, old-fashioned New York strip.”

“Um.” Kylie took a breath and thought for a second. “I guess mine is spaghetti and meatballs.” Her stomach let out a rumble at the thought, and wasn’t that just embarrassing, considering her midsection was less than a foot from Devon’s ear right now.

“That’s a good one,” he said. “S’pose you’d have a nice bottle of red with that, huh?”

“Maybe.” Her muscles let go a little against her seat, and she leaned into the heat of Devon’s palm, still firm and strong and sweet against her cheek. “Yeah. Pinot noir. Or, no, Chianti. That would be perfect.”

“So here’s what I want you to do. Every time you get scared, I want you to close your eyes.” He paused long enough for her to let her eyes flutter shut for a trial run, but then his words continued, low and hypnotic. “Good. Like that. Then I want you to picture that dinner.”