Carlos took the keys, then latched onto her arm and towed her across the yard to where a ten-year-old dingy- white Jeep Wrangler was parked. With a freakin’ soft-top, but at least it had the little half doors on each side. If he didn’t have her to deal with, his chances on foot would be better, but getting this informant to headquarters in one piece was his sole priority at the moment.
She was BAD’s only connection to the Fratelli.
And he had to find out just how much she knew about the Anguis.
He hurried her into the Jeep and watched to make sure she stayed in while he circled to the driver’s side. When he slid behind the wheel, he told her, “Scoot down to the floorboard.”
“Why?”
“You’ll be less of a target. I don’t have time to answer questions and keep you alive, so do what I tell you when I tell you.”
“Why?”
He cranked the engine. “You got a problem with your hearing?”
“No, I hear just fine.” She sat perched on the seat, pure defiance in contrast to the fear pulsing from her in waves.
“Then you must be dense,” he muttered, steering out to the driveway and watching everything at once.
“No, I’m not dense.”
“Then what exactly are you having a problem understanding?”
“Why don’t you just kill me right now?”
He tossed quick glances at her as he eased the Jeep past the body on the lawn and started down the driveway with the headlights off. He had enough twilight to see the driveway.
“What makes you think I want to kill you?” he asked, his gaze sweeping everywhere for a threat.
“You’re Anguis, right?”
FOUR
CARLOS CLUTCHED THE steering wheel. This was exactly why he had to get the first crack at this informant, find out what she knew about the Anguis. How had she recognized him when no one else in the past sixteen years had?
He’d never even met this woman before today. He slowed the Jeep, still needing to get her tucked down beneath the dash. “Why would you say that?”
She scoffed, but the raspy sound came out on a slip of terror. “I’ve been waiting on Durand to send someone.”
Carlos released the breath he’d been holding, expecting to hear how she knew him. She only thought he’d been sent by Durand to kidnap her.
“You think just because I’m Hispanic that I’m part of Durand’s group?”
She swung around, squinting at him as she churned on his answer. “You’re not?”
“No. Now, will you scoot down before someone blows your head to pieces?” He gave the Jeep gas and eased forward.
Gabrielle tried to comprehend what he was saying. Not Anguis? Then who was this guy? His last words finally registered-the comment about getting her head blown off.
She scrunched her body down into as small a ball as she could make, but she’d never been small so the ball was more a misshapen blob.
The man driving had all the attributes she’d ever mentally assigned an Anguis soldier, from the olive skin to thick black hair and lashes to a body built for power.
Danger radiated from him in shock waves.
He cut his gaze at her for a brief moment. Keen eyes assessed her with concern that didn’t fit the image she’d conjured of an Anguis soldier.
She would have expected mean, beady eyes.
Brisk air buffeted collar-length black hair around his neck, the soft locks a sharp contrast to the hard jawline and tense mouth. Attractive, in a deadly sort of way. What would he do with her?
A shiver ran along her spine.
If Durand hadn’t sent this rogue interloper, then whom was this guy working with? Not law enforcement or he wouldn’t have shot Agent Morton.
She glanced up when the Jeep took a curve around the broken poplar tree that had snapped in a recent storm. That meant they were close to the street…where someone might be waiting for them?
Such as the person who had cut the DEA agent’s throat?
“What about a bullet hitting you?” Gabrielle asked her captor. If this guy was shot while driving and wrecked the Jeep, she might end up a human pretzel.
“I’ll be fine. No more talking,” he ordered, but in a less menacing tone.
He wheeled the Jeep in an abrupt left turn off the driveway before reaching the mailbox. She stretched her neck to see why.
The Jeep idled next to a dark-colored sport utility parked in the woods. He leaned over, stared at something inside the vehicle and cursed, then backed up to the driveway…and cursed again. He accelerated hard, lurching the Jeep forward, and spinning a wheel when he swung onto the street.
A loud ping echoed before the windshield cracked and spiderwebbed.
She lifted up.
“Stay the hell down!” He downshifted and rammed the accelerator again, fishtailing the Jeep one way, then the next.
Another shot ripped through the soft top and zinged off the dash.
Gabrielle ducked her head and clung to the seat. She pressed a hand on the wall next to the floorboard to wedge herself in as tightly as she could. Air roared through the open windows.
“Where are we going?” she asked. Her fingernails dug into the seat cushion.
He ignored her.
After two more turns, he floored the gas then skidded to a stop. Stinking rubber filled the cab. He quickly shifted the Jeep into reverse and backed up as fast as they’d been going forward.
Tires on another vehicle close by screeched against the pavement.
Speeding in Peachtree City was not a wise idea since this small community had its own police department that patrolled the highways. Tangling with law enforcement would make her an easy target for Durand, but getting arrested had a certain appeal when people were shooting at her.
Hard to decide the lesser of two deadly options, but she doubted this guy was going to give her a choice.
Another shot pinged off the inside of the windshield. This one drew a snarl of curses from her driver in Spanish. Blood trickled down the side of his cheek.
Help him or not?
She didn’t even know who he was or whom he worked for. He’d shot a DEA agent, so what did that say about him?
Bad guy, to put it in simple terms.
Still, he was working real hard to keep her alive and out of someone’s hands. Maybe Anguis soldiers.
Gabrielle reached under the seat for a rag she kept there to clean the windshield when needed and handed it up to him. “Here.”
He glanced, did a double take, then snatched the rag and wiped blood that had run into his eyes. He tossed the cloth down against the base of the shifter and yanked the wheel hard to the left.
She barely caught herself. What seemed like forever had probably taken all of ten minutes when he finally slowed down and said, “Think we lost them.”
“Can I get up?”
“No.”
Antagonizing this guy was not a bright idea, but she had to find some sort of mutual ground for any hope of
