“Ha, you brought it up.”
“Nope, you started it with that cinnamon bun.”
At that, she burst out laughing and said, “You’re right. As long as you finish this crazy kidnapping event, I’m good.”
He swallowed hard, nodded, and focused on the cinnamon bun, before things got really crazy.
At that, she chuckled, then leaned over gently and stroked the back of his fingers. “You should try yours. It’s so delicious.”
“I’m trying it,” he said, and, taking a deep breath, he picked it up and chomped onto a decent-size mouthful. The thing was, she was right; it was delicious, swoon-worthy. He found himself just barely holding back, and she laughed at him.
“See? They’re a hell of an aphrodisiac.”
“They’re deadly,” he said, staring at it.
“And yet,” she murmured, “I can’t quite get enough.”
With that, he found the same heat building between them again. He shook his head. “Definitely not the time or place.”
“Sometimes,” she said, with that knowing smile, “you can’t control it. It happens whether we like it or not.”
He nodded. “I get that,” he said. “But wow. We’ll go up in flames, if we ever get time alone together.”
“And I’m not against that at all,” she said. “After all the shit I’ve been through this week, I’m kind of looking forward to it.”
“Kind of? What’s that? Damning faint praise?”
She burst out laughing yet again. “See? The laughter between us is so wonderful.”
“There’s also a lot of heat,” he admitted.
“And that is also wonderful,” she said calmly and quietly. “It’s just a matter of how we handle the rest of it.”
“Well, neither of us are youngsters anymore,” he said. “Not that we’re old, but we’re certainly not eighteen.”
“We’ll just need to hold everything in check, until we have time to be together properly,” she murmured.
He nodded, his gaze locked on hers. “I guess it’s all good, huh?”
“You think?” she said, chuckling.
Such an odd conversation to have in the middle of an op. Just then his phone rang.
She looked at him in surprise. “It always seems to be phone calls these days. Phone calls or texts.”
He shifted back slightly, studying the area around him, as he asked, “Hudson, what’s up?” He listened as Hudson spoke. “Interesting,” Baylor murmured, hearing of their efforts to find the shooter. “Okay, how far away do you think?”
Hudson replied, “About two hundred yards, heading in your direction. I don’t know if he’s doing it on purpose or if that just happens to be a popular spot for a rendezvous,” he said. “But heads-up, he’s coming your way.”
“We’re still in the coffee shop,” he said.
“I’ll meet you there in a few minutes, if I can.” And, with that, Hudson hung up.
Baylor looked at her and said, “The shooter and Hudson are both on their way here, or in this direction anyway.” He held up a hand to stall her questions. “We don’t know if the shooter’s coming to the coffee shop or if he’s coming to this general shopping area.” At that, she nodded. He looked around, studied the area, and made a sudden decision. “Let’s go.”
As if understanding the change in his tone, she immediately put down her cup of coffee and stood. As they walked out toward the front entrance, she asked, “Where are we going?”
He stopped at the front bay window and studied the outside area, as every instinct inside him was screaming to run. But he knew, if they ran outside in that direction, there was a good chance the sniper would get them. Somebody else pulled open the door and stepped inside. As she went to go out, he held her back.
She stopped, looked up at him, and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Everything,” he said in a harsh voice.
Chapter 11
Gizella watched outside, when she was suddenly jerked in the opposite direction.
Baylor, his voice low and speaking close to her ear, said, “Come on. We’re going out the other way.”
She followed him, only to be quickly switched around, so that she was in front of him. She knew it was a defensive position, a move made on his part to protect her, but, at the same time, she wished that his big back weren’t such an easy target. As they made their way to a rear exit and out to a parking lot, she stopped and stared. “Is this any better?”
“It is,” he said. He nudged her forward.
She took several more steps, expecting to be led to the parking lot itself, when a vehicle drove up right in front of them. She stepped back with a gasp, but Baylor opened the door and ushered her into the back seat. As she got in, she saw Dane behind the wheel. “Wow,” she said, “you guys change vehicles all the time, don’t you?”
“We change as much as we need to,” Dane said, and, as soon as the doors were closed, he took off.
She understood, but it was still amazing to her that, one, there was that kind of money available, and, two, that they had the skills. She couldn’t even begin to guess if these were legal vehicle rentals or not. She assumed that nobody wanted to have their real names noted on any paperwork. Which is what she suspected had happened with her father. “Did we ever figure out if it was my father’s signature on that vehicle registration?”
“No, it wasn’t,” Baylor replied. “It was just a quick attempt to discredit him in this whole thing.”
“Right, so that puts us back to possible government involvement then,” she said, with a sigh.
“It’s never quite that simple,” he said, “and the chances of ever finding out who’s behind this might be very slim. We’re better off to just find our way out of this local mess for right now.”
“I get that,” she said, “but I don’t want my father’s name besmirched in all this.” At that, she could feel Baylor’s glance in her
