Full Force

Unwilling to die that day, Emily rose onto her hands and knees. Keeping low to the ground, she crawled for the fence, slipped beneath the bottom rail and continued on toward the trees, praying she could find a place to hide until the crazy man following her gave up and went away. Or until Grace’s friends arrived to rescue her.

Chapter Two

Frank “Mustang” Ford’s cell phone rang through to the Bluetooth in his truck. Declan O’Neill’s name appeared on the dash screen.

Mustang thumbed the button on his steering wheel to answer. “What’s up, Declan?”

“Are you on your way to the Halverson Estate?”

“Roger,” he confirmed. “Five miles away. Why? Need me to stop and pick up some milk or bread?” He chuckled.

“No. I have a mission for you.”

“Really?” Mustang sat straighter. “Must be a short deadline if you can’t wait until I get to Charlie’s place.”

“It is,” Declan said, his tone clipped. “Be on the lookout for a red Toyota Camry. Grace’s friend is en route to Charlie’s and has a tail following her. She reported three vehicular attacks since leaving the DC area. She might be in trouble.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for her. The road out this way appears pretty deserted.”

“Then it shouldn’t be hard to find her. Let us know when you catch up to her.”

“Roger.” As he increased his speed, Mustang gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

A mile or more later a yellow caution sign indicated a sharp curve ahead. Mustang applied his brakes, his gaze scanning the sides of the road and the ditches. If someone was trying to harm Grace’s friend, running her off the road in the middle of a curve was the perfect place to do it. Dusk was settling in, causing shadows to merge, making it more difficult for Mustang to distinguish between shadows and objects on the sides of the road.

As soon as he entered the sweeping curve, he spied a dark vehicle parked barely off the shoulder. The driver’s-side door hung open and, as far as Mustang could tell, no one was inside or around the vehicle. He slowed, pulled over to the side of the road and off onto the shoulder, giving the vehicle in front of him plenty of space. He shifted into Park, grabbed his flashlight from the center console and pulled his handgun from the shoulder holster beneath his jacket.

Mustang slipped down out of his truck and closed the door quietly. As he rounded the hood and edged toward the dark sedan he spied another vehicle on the other side of the ditch crashed against a fence pole. It, too, seemed abandoned and, from what he could tell, it was red. The front bumper was smashed into the fence post and the driver’s-side window was shattered with what looked like a bullet hole at the exact position that would have hit the driver, had the driver been sitting in the seat.

Adrenaline shot through Mustang’s veins. Crouching low, he eased toward the abandoned vehicles, dropped down into the ditch and climbed up the embankment to the disabled vehicle where he discovered the passenger door was open. He prayed that whoever had been in the car had escaped. All he could assume at the moment was that whoever had arrived in the dark sedan had been the one to run the other vehicle off the road and to fire the shot that had put the hole in the driver’s-side window. That led Mustang to believe the driver of the disabled vehicle was on the run, being chased now by whoever had attacked her.

With his gun held at the ready, he pointed his flashlight with his other hand into the front seat of the disabled vehicle. He was glad to discover there was no blood on the seats or the dash. The airbags had deployed and the vehicle was empty, meaning the driver had escaped. But how long would she last on the run from somebody trying to kill her with a gun? She could be injured. The question was, what direction had she gone in?

He tried to think like a person running from somebody determined to kill her. She would have made for the safety and concealment of the tree line. That meant that she would have slipped beneath the fence into the forest. She might only have seconds before her pursuer caught up to her.

Mustang ran the rest of the way up the embankment, braced his hand on a fence rail and vaulted over the metal railing. As his feet hit the ground, a shot rang out. He raced in the direction he thought the sound had come from, determined to reach the woman before her attacker finished her off. He hoped he wasn’t too late.

Mustang raced as fast as he could, leaping over branches, pushing past bushes and trees. His muscles strained and his lungs burned, and still he didn’t see anyone ahead of him.

It had been dusk when he’d pulled to the side of the road. Within the canopy of the trees, darkness had descended. He couldn’t see every little branch and tripped over one. He got up and kept moving, arriving finally at the edge of a glen where a little bit of dusk light illuminated a dark figure standing over a lump on the ground. From the man’s silhouette, Mustang could tell he was pointing a gun at the figure on the ground. Mustang raised his weapon and fired. The dark figure ducked. When he straightened, he pulled the person up from the ground and held her in front of him.

“Come another step closer and I will shoot her,” a voice said in a thick Russian accent.

Mustang took cover behind a tree. “You shoot her and I’ll hunt you down and kill you. I will show you no mercy.”

Though he spoke with force, Mustang could not help the shaky feeling he felt inside. What he witnessed before him was so similar to the last operation he and his team had conducted in Afghanistan. In that scenario, their bogey had used the bride in a wedding couple as the shield to get him out of a village. That Taliban leader’s ploy and Mustang’s team decision to spare the bride had cost them all their careers in the marines. And, as had been the case then, he couldn’t take the shot now. If he attempted to kill the bad guy, he’d have to go through the body of an innocent victim.

“Okay. I won’t shoot,” Mustang shouted. “But I reiterate, if you kill the woman, I will kill you. And I will make certain that you suffer in the process of dying.”

The man holding the hostage inched backward, dragging the woman with him. He made a wide circle, heading back in the direction of the road and the vehicles abandoned there.

Mustang had no recourse but to wait for the man to pass him and continue on his path to the road. At one point Mustang thought he heard the woman sob and, possibly, a softly spoken plea. Help me. His heart contracted, squeezing tightly in his chest. He vowed to himself that he’d get her out of her attacker’s grasp.

Mustang followed, keeping a safe distance but close enough that he could see what was going on in the shadowy darkness of late dusk. At one point he got too near.

“Do not come closer,” the attacker said. He fired a shot.

Mustang ducked low and behind a tree.

Thankfully the woman remained on her feet, still dragged alongside her kidnapper. They closed the distance between them and the vehicles on the side of the road.

Mustang knew he had to stop the kidnapper before he got the woman into the car. If he had been bent on running her off the road and shooting at her inside her vehicle, he would kill her as soon as he got her away. Mustang couldn’t let that happen. He had to stop the kidnapper.

Mustang eased through the woods, moving shadow to shadow, inching closer as quietly as he could. When the other two reached the fence, Mustang knew he had to make his move. The kidnapper shoved the woman to the ground and said something to her in Russian. She rolled beneath the fence.

“My finger is on the trigger,” the Russian called out. “If you shoot me. I shoot the woman. I might die, but the woman will die, as well.”

With the man in his sights, Mustang hesitated.

The woman, who had managed to get beneath the fence, kicked out a foot, catching her kidnapper in the shin with a hard smack.

Mustang took his chance and pulled the trigger at the same time the Russian yelled and bent over.

The woman on the ground rolled and kept rolling past the fence and down the embankment, out of sight of Mustang. Her attacker climbed over the top of the fence and dropped down on the other side.

Mustang left the concealment of the tree and raced for the fence, vaulting over and landing on the other side. He immediately dropped to his belly on the ground.

A shot rang out.

The woman had managed to roll to the bottom of the ditch, get up and start running from the Russian.

Her attacker rose and pointed his weapon at her.

Mustang aimed and fired, hitting the man’s hand, knocking the gun from his grip.

Clutching his injured hand to his chest, the Russian ran for the dark sedan on the roadside.

Mustang glanced from the assailant to the woman. He wanted to stop the Russian from making another attempt on the woman’s life. But first he needed to ascertain what injuries the woman might have sustained. Headlights shone in the curve on the road above as the dark sedan sped away with the Russian inside. Meanwhile the woman hadn’t stopped. She kept running, tripping over bushes and bramble in the ditch. If she didn’t stop soon she’d injure herself even more.

“Mustang,” a man shouted. “You out there?”

Mustang breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of Declan’s voice.

“Do you need help?” Declan called out.

“Call 9-1-1, get an ambulance out here.” Mustang didn’t wait for Declan’s response. He raced after the woman scrabbling through the ditch. Because of the recent rain the ditch contained pools of standing water and mushy soil.

The woman stumbled and fell into the mud.

Mustang splashed through the water. “Hey!”

His shout seemed to galvanize her and she pushed to her feet and resumed running. Her breathing coming in ragged gasps and sobs.

Mustang increased his speed.

Apparently the woman didn’t realize that he was one of the good guys. She had to be so frightened that she was beyond reason. She struggled up the incline toward the road. If Mustang didn’t catch up to her soon, she could be hit by an oncoming vehicle as soon as she emerged from the ditch.

The headlights shining on the road above made Mustang kick up his pace and he charged after the woman. Just before she reached the road, he caught her with a flying tackle, sending her sprawling onto the gravel. He pulled her beneath him and rolled her to the side, away from the oncoming car. After the vehicle had passed, he pushed up on his arms and stared down into the shadowy face of the woman. Her features were blurred in the looming darkness, but he could tell she had a scrape on her chin and her eyes were wide and frightened.

She fought, kicking and screaming something in Russian.

Mustang used the weight of his body to hold her against the ground.

When he didn’t shift off her, she switched to English. “Let go of me.”

Mustang pinned her wrists to the ground to keep her from scratching his eyes out. “Hey, lady. I’m just here to help you.”

Her struggle slowed and finally came to a halt. She stared up at him. “If you’re here to help me, let me go,” she said.

He chuckled. “Sweetheart, I’ll let you go when I’m sure you’re not gonna run out into the traffic.”

She dragged in a long, shaky breath and let it out. “I promise, I won’t run out into the traffic. And I’m not your sweetheart.”

For a long moment Mustang stared down into her face, wishing he could see the color of her eyes in the darkness. Finally he sighed and rolled over, releasing her wrists. “Okay. But I’ll tackle you again if you try to get out onto the highway.”

She sat up, rubbing her wrists where he’d held them so tightly.

“Grace sent us,” Mustang said.

The woman’s head jerked up and she stared into his eyes. “Are you some of Charlie’s men?”

“If you mean do I work for Charlie Halverson, then yes.” Mustang pushed to his feet and extended his hand.

She hesitated a moment before placing her hand in his and letting him pull her to her feet.

“Are you okay?” His gaze raked her body from head to toe, his eyes straining in the darkness. He’d lost the flashlight in his chase to catch her.

She nodded. “I think so. A little banged up and bruised from the car wreck and from being tackled.”

“Sorry about that,” Mustang said.

A smile quirked at the corners of her lips. “I guess I should thank you for keeping me safe from running out into the middle of the road.”

Footsteps sounded on the pavement behind the woman. Declan raced toward them. “Mustang? Emily?” He ground to a halt and shook his head. “An ambulance is on the way. And I called the sheriff’s department and the police department and have them looking out for a dark sedan with no license plate.”

Mustang shook his head. “The dude will be long gone before anybody gets out here.”

Declan stepped up to Emily and held out his hand. “Grace sent us. You must be Emily.”

The woman took his hand and nodded. “I’m Emily,” she said softly. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

Declan chuckled and tipped his head at Mustang. “You’ll have to thank Mustang. He’s the one who came to your rescue.”

She raised her eyebrows and shot a glance toward Mustang. “Mustang? Is that your real name or is that a call sign?”

“Call sign,” Mustang answered. “Frank Ford.” He held out his hand and she took it, giving it a firm shake before releasing it and rubbing her hand on the side of her leg.

The wailing of a siren brought all three heads up at once. Lights blinked around the corner and an ambulance came to a stop beside Mustang’s truck. The EMT crew leaped out of their rig and converged on Emily.

She held up her hands and backed away. “I’m okay,” she insisted.

Mustang touched her shoulder. “Let them look you over. Even if it doesn’t make you feel better, it will make me feel better,” he said and stepped back to let the EMT crew get to Emily.

Declan fell in beside Mustang. “Did you get a look at the guy who attacked her?”

Mustang shook his head. “No, it was dark, and the guy wore a ski mask.” He stared in the direction the dark sedan had gone. “However, the man had a Russian accent.”

Declan’s brows rose. “Russian, aye.”

Mustang shrugged. “Not that I speak Russian. But it sounded like it to me, and Emily apparently can speak Russian because she said something in Russian when I tackled her.”

Declan chuckled. “You tackled her?”

With a frown, Mustang nodded. “I had to, to stop her from running out in the road.”

Declan shook his head. “That’s no way to make a new friend.”

Mustang snorted. “I wasn’t trying to make a friend. I was trying to save her from getting run over.”

Declan clapped a hand to Mustang’s shoulder. “Well, that will make Grace happy. She was worried about Emily.”

When the EMTs brought out a stretcher, they were stopped by an emphatic, No!

Emily shrugged out of the hands of one of the technicians. “I’m okay, I’m telling you.”

“Ma’am, being in a car wreck, and having the airbags deploy, can cause concussion. We’d feel better if you came to the hospital and had one of the doctors look you over.”

Emily shook her head. “At no time was I unconscious.”

“You don’t have to be unconscious to have suffered a concussion.” The EMT gripped her arm. “Please, ma’am, let us take care of you.”

She shook off his hand and backed away. “I’m okay and I can take care of myself.” She looked around, her gaze catching Mustang’s. “If I’ve suffered any injuries, my friends will make sure that I get to a hospital on time. Won’t you?” She directed her challenge at Declan.

Declan chuckled. “We’ll get her to the nearest hospital if she starts showing any signs of deteriorating health.”

The technician shrugged. “Have it your way.” He closed his kit and loaded it into the emergency vehicle. The two other technicians who’d gotten the stretcher out put it into the back of the ambulance and eventually the three of them drove away.

Emily turned and stared at the wreckage of her car. “I don’t suppose I’m going to get that out of the ditch anytime soon,” she said.

Again Declan chuckled. “No. The only thing that’s going to get that vehicle out of the ditch is a tow truck.”

Emily sighed and turned to Declan and Mustang. “I take it you’re my ride.”

Declan nodded. “However, you do have a choice between riding with me—” he tipped his head toward Mustang “—or with Mustang.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed as she stared from Mustang to Declan and back.

Mustang found himself holding his breath. He didn’t know why, and he didn’t know the woman, but he wanted her to choose him.

Though she was soaked with the equivalent of swamp water, he had come this far to save her. He didn’t want to let it end there.

For several seconds Emily chewed on her bottom lip. Then she drew in a breath, let it go on a sigh and nodded at Mustang. “I’ll ride with Mustang,” she said softly.

“Well then, let’s get you to Charlie’s place. It’s not too far down the road. That way you can get out of those cold, wet clothes. It’s starting to get chilly outside,” Declan said.

Emily nodded, a shiver shaking her frame.

Declan grinned. “I’ll see you there.” He spun on his heels and hurried toward his truck.

When Mustang tried to steer her toward his truck, Emily dug her heels into the pavement. “I can’t leave my purse and keys in the car.” She started toward the wrecked vehicle.

“I’ll get them,” Mustang insisted. “Stay here.”

He dropped down into the ditch and found his way into the damaged vehicle. After pulling the keys from the ignition, he took longer than he wanted to find the purse. Finally, he had what he needed and returned to Emily’s side.

Mustang handed her the purse and keys, gripped her elbow and led her to the passenger side of his pickup. He opened the door to assist her into the seat.

She put her foot on the running board and it slipped, causing her to fall back into Mustang’s arms.

He held her until she had her feet firmly on the ground again. “You all right?”

She nodded. Color rose up her neck and into her cheeks. She reached this time for the handle inside the cab of the truck and helped pull herself up into the passenger seat.

Once Emily was settled, Mustang reached around her and clicked the shoulder strap of the seat belt across her lap. As he retracted his elbow, it brushed gently across her breast and he quickly mumbled an apology. A blast of electricity shot through him.

Emily’s breath hitched, as if she’d had a similar experience.

Mustang jerked his arm back and stepped away from the side of the truck, slamming the door firmly. He rounded the front of the vehicle and climbed into the driver’s seat. Without another word, he started the engine and pulled out onto the road. The shock he’d felt had to have been static electricity. There could be no other explanation. There was no way he’d felt a connection with the cold, wet woman who’d showed a remarkable amount of spirit and courage in her escape from her captor. Mustang barely knew the woman.

Chapter Three

They’d gone maybe a little more than a mile when Mustang pulled off at a large, impressive stone wall and wrought-iron gate. Declan’s truck had just pulled through onto the estate and he waved his hand out the window for them to follow.

Mustang drove through and the gate closed slowly behind them.

Emily had heard Grace talk about her new employer, Charlie, or Charlotte Halverson, the widow of a wealthy philanthropist. Grace had gone on and on about the beautiful estate and how kind and caring her employer was to her collection of employees.

Having been the most recent recipient of Charlie’s kindness, Emily was anxious to meet the woman. If Charlie had not sent Mustang out to help, Emily was absolutely certain she would not be alive to appreciate the beauty of Charlie’s estate at that moment.

She glanced toward the man beside her, studying him in the light from the dash.

He was tall, with broad shoulders and a ruggedly handsome face. Something about his stoic countenance tugged deeply at Emily’s insides. Or perhaps she was just grateful he’d arrived when he had and saved her from being shot. Either way, she felt closer to this man than any other stranger she had ever met.

Chills rippled through Emily. She fought to keep her teeth from chattering. Her clothes were damp, and she smelled like swamp water, but she couldn’t help that.

“S-s-so you work for Charlie?” she asked.

Mustang gave a curt nod. “Yeah.”

“W-w-what do you do for her?” Emily wrapped her hands around her arms and shivered in her seat.

He adjusted the thermostat on the dash to make it blow blessedly warm air. “She hired Declan and then he brought the rest of our team on board. I guess you could say we are kind of a security agency.”

“Does the agency have a name?” Emily asked.

Mustang smiled. “Declan’s Defenders.”

“So, Declan is your leader?” Emily asked.

Mustang nodded. “He was our team lead before. It just seemed natural for him to be lead of Declan’s Defenders.”

“Before?” Emily stared across the console at the man driving.

Mustang’s jaw tightened. “We were in the marines together.”

Emily nodded silently. She should have recognized his military bearing. The man didn’t have an ounce of flab or fat on him. And when he stood, he held himself straight, shoulders back and head held high, the countenance and bearing of someone who had been in the military, living under strict rules and guidelines.

Mustang shot a glance her way. “So what did you do to piss someone off enough that they want to kill you?”

Emily shook her head. “I have no idea,” she said.

“I seriously doubt it was a case of road rage,” Mustang noted.

Emily snorted. “Well, if it was road rage, he did a good job of it. He ran me off the road.”

“And chased you down with a gun.” Mustang’s brows dipped. “If I’m not mistaken, that man spoke Russian. And when I tackled you, you spoke in Russian, as well. What’s up with that?”

Emily ran a hand through her hair and stared out the window beside her. “I’m a Russian interpreter. No, I’m not Russian, I’m American, but I studied Russian in high school and college. I also studied abroad in Moscow for a semester. Now I teach Russian at Georgetown and I translate for people who speak Russian.”

“Was the guy who tried to kill you one of the clients you translated for?”

Emily pressed her lips together. “You know as much as I do. The man wore a ski mask. I couldn’t tell you if he was one of my clients.” A shiver shook Emily so hard her teeth rattled.

Mustang glanced at her again. “You’re cold.”

She nodded.

“Sorry, I should have given you this earlier.” He reached over the back of the seat, grabbed a blanket and threw it across her lap. “Wrap yourself in that. You need to warm up.”

Emily picked at the blanket. “I hate to get it all wet and smelly.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll wash.”

Mustang followed Declan’s taillights as they twisted and turned on the tree-lined road leading to Charlotte Halverson’s massive mansion.

Emily wrapped the blanket around her lap, thankful for the warmth. She would be sure to wash and return it when she got back to her apartment. Then she’d begin the hassle of getting her car repaired or replaced. In the meantime she was dependent on Charlotte Halverson and Declan’s Defenders to get her around. And she was thankful they’d come through for her when she’d needed them.

As they pulled up in front of the three-story mansion with its many gables and arches, several men descended the marble staircase from the front door. Three women followed, one of whom Emily recognized as Grace. And the other, her friend Riley. The front porch lights shone down on the third woman’s gray hair. That had to be Charlotte Halverson. Emily had seen pictures of her in the news and in the papers.