The Stranger and I. Carol Ericson

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The Stranger and I - Carol Ericson


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over the inside of the trunk, he heard the rumble of an engine build, its low roar coming closer until tires screeched around the corner. His head shot up. A dark sedan rocketed down the street toward them.

      He yelled, “Get down.”

      Dragging a bag out of the trunk, she looked up, mouth agape. He tackled her. The car slowed down. He stuffed her under Chad’s car with one hand, reaching for his Glock with the other. A bullet pierced the air, slamming into the curb beside him. He leveled his weapon at the hooded figure leaning out the car window and shot back.

      Another bullet whizzed past his ear and clanged against the bumper. The soft body beneath him jerked. He fired once more at the retreating car before it sped around the corner, choking the air with exhaust.

      The woman raised her head, her eyes occupying half her face. “Who was that? What’s going on?”

      He pulled her up. “Looks like you were followed after all or picked up at the border. Or that’s your dead man taking revenge for his mode of transportation. You okay?”

      Before she could answer, a man stepped out on his porch and yelled, “What the hell is going on out here?”

      Justin waved his arm. “Just some kids lighting some leftover firecrackers. I chased them off.”

      “Damn kids.” The man retreated, banging his screen door behind him.

      Still clutching his gun at his side, Justin propelled the woman across the street and into his house. He yanked a duffel bag out of the closet and started shoveling clothes into it.

      He said over his shoulder, “We have to get out of here.” Turning, he saw her standing in the middle of the room knotting her hands in front of her.

      He had no intention of becoming this woman’s white knight, but he could show her a little courtesy for her trouble. He stopped packing. “Sit down. I’ll get you a soda or something.”

      She shot a glance at the window, her breath coming in short spurts. “Will they come back?”

      “Not now. They’ll be afraid the gunshots will attract the police, but they won’t stay away for long.” He handed her a can of soda, and she gulped it. He studied her face, its delicate planes creased with anxiety. Damn Chad.

      She lifted her eyes to his and the trust shining from them chipped at a hard corner of his heart. “Where are we going?” she asked.

      “To safety. Is there anyone expecting you, family, husband?” He held his breath.

      Her long, golden lashes swept down to veil her eyes for a moment. “No, I’m not expected back from Mexico for another week.” A grin twisted her lips. “I left early to get a jump on recording my research.”

      He returned the grin then finished packing. After dropping his bag by the door, he disconnected his laptop and stowed it in its case. He gave the small house a final glance. He’d have to abandon it, just as he had a few others along the way.

      His gaze shifted to the woman on his couch, her feet curled beneath her long tanned legs. She held the can of soda pressed against her cheek, her eyes closed. He realized with a start he didn’t even know her name. How did Chad address her in the letter? Lisa? Lily?

      They had a long drive ahead of them, and he had to call her something. “What’s your name?”

      She drained the can of soda and answered, “Lila Monroe.” She hesitated. “Justin, why do I have to come with you? Why can’t you just take me home?”

      The sound of his name on her lips touched him, and he felt his face shutting down, his barriers rising. He wouldn’t allow himself any messy emotional attachments. He just had a job to do. “We’re not dealing with ordinary criminals here. You don’t want these people discovering who you are, where you live, where your family lives. If I dropped you off at your home now and they followed us, you’d never be safe.”

      She breathed out, “I’m scared.”

      He stood rooted to the floor, fighting impulses he’d long held at bay. The sincerity of her emotions touched a core within him, a core he guarded and protected with a hardened shell. How had she insinuated herself there so easily?

      He picked up his bags. “We need to leave, Lila. You’ll be safe where I’m taking you. Get another soda for the road, and grab one for me, too. We’ll get something to eat along the way.”

      Stowing his bags in the bed of his truck along with the camping gear he always kept there, he ordered Lila to climb in the cab and wait. He stole out to Chad’s car, keeping his weapon ready, and grabbed the gear from the open trunk. He swept the contents of the glove compartment into a bag and then loaded everything into his truck.

      Lila sat in the passenger seat staring ahead at nothing, her face pale beneath sun-kissed skin. Justin cursed Chad and his lust, not for the first time. It was, however, the last. His breath hitched in his throat.

      Starting the engine, he looked at his silent companion. “You ready?”

      She closed her eyes and nodded. He expelled a breath, relaxing the muscles of his face. The eyes were supposed to be windows to the soul, and she seemed to peer right into his. The clear blue light from her eyes probed his inner depths, peeling back one layer of his defenses at a time. From the moment she appeared on his doorstep, he felt transparent under her gaze. And worse, she seemed to understand his defects and pity him for them.

      Did she realize Chad’s death lay at his door? Justin should’ve been a better mentor, should’ve been more forceful in telling Chad to hold tight until he got down there. He failed Chad just when Chad needed him most. That thought burned behind his eyes until he doused it. Better not go down that road.

      After an hour’s sleep, Lila stirred. Those impossible golden curls shielded one half of her face. Her long lashes with their dark tips lay like a curve of velvet on her cheek. Her lips, even in repose, turned up at the corners.

      A Pollyanna, that fit her perfectly, trusting, gullible. Fortunately this experience would cure her of that fatal flaw. Better to be on your guard.

      She shoved her hair back from her face, blinking rapidly. Looking out the window, she asked, “Where are we?”

      He answered, “Heading north on the I-15.”

      Turning her head toward him, she said, “The desert?”

      “That’s right. Do you mind driving for a while? I need to make a phone call and sort through Chad’s stuff.”

      “I can drive, but can we pull over at a rest stop or something? I feel like I’ve just run a marathon, barefoot, and with wild beasts in pursuit.”

      His eyes roamed over her lithe body, and his hands itched to follow. He shook his head and laughed. “Looks like one of those wild beasts caught up with you.”

      She cocked her head at him. “You have a nice laugh. You should use it more often.”

      He gripped the steering wheel. “Not much to laugh at these days.”

      “You’re wrong. The world holds a lot of laughter.”

      Not his world. He cut off her homily. “There’s a rest area two miles ahead.”

      He maneuvered the car off the interstate and pulled in to the parking lot. While Lila slung a small bag over her shoulder and headed for the restrooms, he leaned against the truck facing the highway.

      The flat desert landscape offered safety. An occasional Joshua tree reached up to the sky, proclaiming its indomitability against the suffocating desert heat, but most of the plant life crouched in the hot sand, allowing the naked eye to see for miles.

      A couple of truckers hogged several parking spaces between them, and a family with three kids ducked in and out of a large cooler, pulling out sandwiches and drinks. Justin’s chest contracted as the father swung the youngest boy up on his shoulders for a trip to the vending machines.

      Lila


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