Killer Body

Dawson towered over the women, pushing his way back through the mob to get to her. When he reached her side, he slid a hand around her shoulders, tucking her beneath his arm, effectively blocking access to her.

“Por favor, señor, we wish to thank the señorita for taking care of Tomas Rodriguez for good.”

Dawson shook his head and said in a voice loud enough to be heard over the crowd, “Tomas Rodriguez’s killer has not yet been identified.” With one arm around Savvy and the other clearing a path, he pushed his way through the crowd toward the parking lot.

Before they’d moved more than a dozen feet from the hospital entrance, the shaggy-haired man with all the questions shoved his pocket camera in her face and a flash blinded her. “Ms. Jones—if that’s really your name—where did you live before Laredo? Does the name Jameson mean anything to you?”

Savvy held up her hands to block more of the blinding flashes. “I don’t know anyone by that name. And I don’t know the answers to any of your questions. Please, leave me alone.”

Another reporter held a microphone in her face. “How do you feel about the death threats from the drug lord, Humberto Rodriguez?”

Dawson’s brown eyes blackened and a storm cloud of a frown dug into the lines of his face. “Move.”

“I just want a minute of your time, Ms. Jones,” the man with the little camera called out over the other reporter’s question.

With her head ready to split wide open, Savvy leaned against Dawson’s broad chest. “Let’s get out of here.”

Before the crowd could pen them in again, Dawson hooked an arm around Savvy’s waist and half lifted, half dragged her through the throng.

The stitches on Savvy’s head throbbed. She stumbled and righted herself, a full-fledged panic attack pushing her toward the cars lined up in the parking lot.

A tremor shook her from head to toe. She could barely get herself out of the hospital parking lot. How had she thought she could survive in Laredo without Dawson’s help? She was still weak. “I should have stayed put in the hospital.”

“We can always go back,” Dawson said, his voice low and intense, his eyes inscrutable in the gathering darkness. He slipped an arm around her waist and held her against him, his head swiveling right and left.

“Whoever tried to kill me earlier might try to hurt you, too.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m in it until a replacement can be found.”

Savvy’s chest tightened. Dawson hadn’t even wanted the job. “Maybe none of this would be happening if I could remember,” Savvy whispered so low she didn’t think he’d hear her.

Apparently Dawson heard her, because he replied softly, “Sometimes it’s better if you can’t remember.”

Savvy’s gaze jerked to his, but he’d turned his face away from her. Did Dawson have ghosts he’d rather forget? What could be so incredibly bad that you’d want to forget your past?

Curiosity burned inside her and she opened her mouth to ask him what he wanted to forget. “Dawson—”

The brooding man stopped in front of a pickup truck and yanked open the door. “Get in and stay low.” His guttural growl effectively stemmed the flow of questions she wanted answered. With his help, she climbed up into the truck and adjusted the seat to lie back enough she couldn’t see over the dash and consequently no one could see her through the side windows.

DAWSON CLIMBED IN next to her. Without another word, he inched out of the parking lot, slipping out a side street. Not until they were two blocks away did the gravity of their departure hit him. He gripped the steering wheel, wondering if he’d made a terrible mistake taking her away from the hospital.

Adrenaline faded away, leaving him drained and in desperate need of a drink. With every ounce of resistance, he passed a corner liquor store, forcing himself to focus on his task. Until Audrey sent an agent to relieve him, he couldn’t touch even a drop of alcohol.

Savvy reclined in the seat beside him. Her arm rose to cover her eyes, emphasizing the sensuous curve of her breast and the taper of her narrow waist. Dawson’s groin tightened, as did his grip on the steering wheel. He should focus on the road ahead, not the woman lying beside him.

Several blocks and mind-clearing breaths later, he still couldn’t keep himself from stealing another glance in her direction. The steady rise and fall of her chest reassured and alarmed him at the same time. This woman depended on him to keep her alive. For the past two years, he’d barely kept himself alive. What kind of life was it when a man buried himself in a bottle to escape his failures? Looking back, he realized he’d chosen the coward’s way out. If the past could be undone, he’d go back in a heartbeat and fix all his mistakes.

Dawson stopped for a red traffic light, staring out the window at the light without really seeing it. If he could fix his past mistakes, would that have changed the outcome? Would Amanda and their baby still be alive? Would Corporal Benson have lived through the roadside bombing? Dawson shook his head. Going back wasn’t an option. As Audrey had told him over and over, moving forward was the only way to forgive your past.

A horn honked behind him. The traffic light had turned green.

Dawson pulled his head out of the past and moved forward, reminding himself to focus on today, now, this woman who depended on him.

“Why do you want to forget your past?” Savvy said, her eyes closed, her arm still resting over them.

The question broadsided him and he answered before he could think. “My mistakes cost lives.”

Her arm dropped to her side and those green eyes stared across at him.

using the traffic as an excuse not to face her, he drove on, kicking himself for even giving her that much. Savvy Jones didn’t need to know all the sordid details of his past failures. He made a turn at the next street and glanced in the rearview mirror. Another vehicle turned behind him, the headlights blinding him.

The car sped up until its bumper almost touched Dawson’s heavy-duty truck bumper.

Adrenaline jolted through his veins and he pressed his foot to the accelerator to put distance between him and the dark car behind him.

“Did it involve a woman?” Savvy asked, adjusting her seat to an upright position.

“Don’t,” Dawson barked out, his mind on the car behind him and the narrow street ahead.

“I’m sorry. Is it too painful to talk about?” Savvy stared ahead. “Since I don’t remember my past, I guess I’m curious about others.”

“Savvy, now’s not the time.” Dawson prepared to make a sharp turn at the next street corner to see if the car behind him would do the same. If so, they had a problem.

She sighed. “I get it. You don’t want to talk about it. I just feel so … empty.”

Dawson’s heart squeezed in his chest, but he couldn’t respond, not when they might have a tail. He whipped the truck to the right, taking the turn so fast, the bed of the truck slipped sideways. The car stayed with them.

She sat up straight and glanced out the side mirror, holding her hand up to block the bright lights blinding her.

“Hold on, we’re going to make another sharp turn.”

She gripped the handle above the door frame as he spun the truck left at the next corner. “Do you always drive like this?”

“Only when I’m being followed.”

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