Hannah’s fears of what she’d say when they stopped at the prison gate were for nothing. The friendly guard waved her through instead of questioning why she’d managed to pick up a passenger. She felt like screaming. How had this horrible day become so much worse? Even if she was able to explain the coercion behind her initial involvement, there was no way she could hope to excuse helping the second prisoner.
It had occurred to her to find her grandmother, make sure she was safe, then drive to the nearest police station. The trouble was, since Fleming had so many friends inside the prison, what was to say he wasn’t just as involved with the local cops on the outside?
Plus, she now had another escapee on her hands. “I’ll stop at the next corner and let you out,” she told him. The man beside her didn’t comment. She slowed, then stopped. “Okay. Get out. Go. Run for it.”
“Nope.”
“You aren’t even supposed to be here.” Her tone rose. “Get out of my van.”
“Not happening,” Rafe said. Not only was he refusing to listen to her, he was actually starting to smile.
“I won’t be responsible for what Fleming’s buddies do to you when they see you messing with their boss.”
“You’re not actually planning to deliver him to his gang, are you? It’s hard for me to believe somebody like you would help a known felon break out of jail.”
Hannah set her jaw, her hands fisting the wheel, her neck and shoulders so tense her head was pounding.
“Look, mister, this is not funny. I have to take him to them as promised or...”
“Or what?”
She chewed on her lower lip. “None of your business. Just go away. I won’t tell the authorities where I dropped you or which way you went. I promise.”
“Suppose I stick around instead, me and my pal, Thor. It looks to us like you need some backup.”
“Hah! The dog, maybe. A convict like you, not so much. What was your crime, anyway?”
“Being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Rafe said.
Hannah leaned past Thor and made a face at him. “Listen, you’re making a bad situation much worse for me. The best way to help is to vanish.” It amazed her when he chuckled so she added, “I’m being serious here.”
“I’m sure you are, but you’re in way over your head, lady.”
A voice from the rear of the van echoed. “Hey, you locked me in. Get back here and open this door.”
Hannah saw Rafe arch his eyebrows. Her response was a silent nod of her head.
Rattling and banging and muttered cursing echoed inside the van as Deuce battered the metal grid door of the kennel box. Hannah knew he might spring it open if he continued so she sought to calm him. “Take it easy, Fleming. I told you I’d get you out and I have. Patience, okay?”
“You...”
“Yeah, yeah. You don’t impress me with foul language. I’ve heard all that before.”
Thor had begun to growl, obviously sensing her unrest and the mood of the man trapped inside the kennel box. Hannah didn’t try to stop the shepherd when he turned a tight circle and made his way to the rear cargo area. While she was driving she could only watch in her rearview mirror but that was enough to see the big dog zero in on the largest crate and put his face close to the metal grid. The effect was immediate silence.
Rafe smiled over at her. “See? I told you we’d be useful.”
“And I told you the dog was all I needed. That’s still true.”
The spread of the man’s grin wasn’t menacing the way Hannah had assumed it would be. Could he be the answer to her prayers to be rescued from this dilemma? That notion was difficult to accept, yet it was beginning to look like the only possibility around.
She sighed deeply. Gram would sense whether that was true and, remembering past experience, would probably give Rafe the benefit of the doubt. Hannah wasn’t ready to be so accepting. Not nearly.
Continuing to drive away from the prison she asked, “What’s your story? You never said.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Hannah waited. The only reply she got came from the locked box in the rear of the van. “He’s in for murder.”
That was not quite the way Rafe would have presented his backstory, but it followed the false criminal record his superiors had set up so he had to go with it. Up to a point.
“I was framed.”
Deuce laughed until Thor’s single bark silenced him.
“Like the majority of the prison population claims. Care to enlighten me?”
“No, but if I don’t I suppose your other passenger will. It all started when I got involved with the wrong people.”
“And?”
“And there was a killing nearby. My so-called buddies pinned it on me.”
“Ri-i-i-ght.” She drew the word out.
Rafe chuckled. “Now you sound like the prosecutor.”
“Well, you were convicted.”
Crossing his arms he struck a macho pose. “Rotten lawyer.”
Her brief chuckle seemed out of place so he studied her. Was she acting or was she actually this functional in the company of one real murderer and a man she believed was also guilty, namely him? Despite his law enforcement training Rafe wasn’t sure. It was clear that the pretty dog trainer was nervous. Anybody except a sociopath would be shaken by this untenable situation.
He changed the subject. “Where are we going?”
“A drop-off point. I suggest you leave us before we arrive if you know what’s good for you.”
“Like I said, I tend to make bad choices. Maybe you’re one of them.”
“Thanks heaps.”
“You’re welcome. What happens to you after you turn our passenger over to his friends? Have you given that any thought?”
“Of course.”
“So?”
He saw her try to suppress a shiver. “So, it’s none of your business.”
But it was, wasn’t it? Rafe didn’t believe for a second that he’d wound up involved in this jailbreak by accident. His desire—his prayer—was always to be given the chance to right wrongs, to be in the right place to benefit someone in need. As far as he could see, this woman needed his help, and more. Unfortunately, as long as she continued to aid and abet Deuce Fleming there was no way he dared reveal his true identity. Therefore, he’d bide his time and roll with the punches, so to speak, although he had high hopes he wouldn’t have to risk his life more than he already was.
Yes, he wanted to be a hero. No, he did not want posthumous medals. That was the tightrope he found himself walking. It wasn’t a good sign that he found the dog trainer attractive. Poisonous snakes were also beautiful.
Hannah was fighting herself. No matter how much she resisted liking Rafe McDowell, she found her reactions to him warming. There was an unidentifiable quality about him that kept insisting he was a good man. Was it possible that he actually was innocent?
Past experience said, no. Her feelings, however, contradicted sensible conclusions. Am I losing it? she asked herself. How was it possible to actually begin to like a convicted murderer? Yes, the Bible told believers to forgive everyone, but that didn’t mean a person should trust everybody. Discernment had to figure in there somewhere. Statistically, somebody who had taken a life once was more likely to do it again.
Which brought her thoughts right back to Fleming and his friends on the outside. There was no doubt that that man was dangerous. He’d proved it by his past actions and his cohorts had added plenty of emphasis when they’d sent her the jailbreak instructions and those candid photos of her grandmother Lucy’s home and habits. They knew exactly who Gram was and how much she meant to Hannah. And they knew how to get what they wanted. She didn’t doubt for a second that they would do exactly what they’d threatened if she didn’t play along.
Hannah startled when Rafe leaned closer, but since she was driving there was no way to get away from him. When he began to whisper she had to strain to hear his words.
“What happens when he doesn’t need you anymore?”
“What?” Her brow furrowed.
“Think about it. You’re taking him to his men, right?”
“Yes.” Her jaw clenched.
“They won’t want anybody to know who they are or where contact was made. What’s the easiest way to guarantee that?”
Trying to swallow she found it almost impossible. Her palms were wet, her throat dry and every nerve in her body firing wildly. So much of her concern had focused on Gram she hadn’t stopped to consider threats to herself. Would they? Could they? The answer was a flat “yes.”
Blinking back tears of frustration she glanced at Rafe. His smile was gone, his dark eyes piercing, his expression grave. Once more he whispered to her. “Why did you let yourself be dragged into this in the first place?”
“It’s complicated.”
“It would have to be.” Easing back into his seat he paused before he asked, “Tell me about your family. Parents? Siblings? A husband, maybe?”
“Just—just my grandmother. She’s all I have.”
“I see.” He crossed his arms again and seemed to be thinking.
Hannah made an abrupt turn and heard cursing from the rear of the van. Deuce Fleming was not a happy camper. But what could she do? How could she save herself and Gram, and while she was at it, an innocent dog and a strangely considerate convict?
“Is your grandmother well?” Rafe asked in a low voice.
“Yes. At least I hope so.” Admitting that was akin to a confession and although Hannah regretted saying too much, she was also relieved. Carrying the burden of being the only one aware of the threat had weighed heavily.
“Understood,” he said.
Did he really understand? Or was he playing her for a fool, too, same as Fleming had? That was more likely than not. Too bad she wasn’t in a position to be picky about allies.
“Suppose we unloaded early?”
Hannah shook her head. “We can’t. I told you it was complicated.”
From the rear, Deuce made his displeasure evident again. “Hey. Pull over and unlock this stupid crate. I’m gettin’ cramps in my legs.”
A quick glance showed the arch of Rafe’s eyebrows. “You could drop off your cargo early.”
She shook her head. “No. Not happening. I gave him my word. I never lie.”
“Humph. What makes you think everybody is as truthful as you are?”
“What choice do I have?” She pressed her lips into a thin line. “And while we’re at it, when are you bailing out? I can’t have you with me when my delivery is made or they’ll think I double-crossed them.”
“Who you double-crossing?” Deuce shouted. He began to rock the plastic crate from side to side. Hoping to distract him, Hannah took the next corner fast.
The crate slid across the van, then bumped into the side wall and landed on its side. Thor returned to the front, frightened, and tried to squeeze between Hannah and Rafe. Deuce shouted. “Hey, watch it.”
When she looked over to see that Rafe was all right she noticed him concentrating on the side mirror. He turned to her with concern. “Faster. Now.”
“Why? What...?”
“We’re being followed.”
“Are you sure?” Even as she asked it, she knew the answer. The expression on the man’s face left no doubt. “Is it the police?”
“I wish.” Rafe undid his seatbelt and pushed past Thor to enter the rear of the careening van.
Hannah was frantic. She didn’t want anybody to get hurt, not even the cruel man who had threatened her tiny family. Driving erratically was bound to cause injury, perhaps to innocent people. However, if she stopped, whoever was following them could get the upper hand.
“I’m almost to the rendezvous point,” she shouted at Rafe.
He had one hand braced on the side of the van, the other reaching toward the huge crate. As she watched, he pushed off the wall and landed atop the crate as if grappling with it.
“What are you doing?” Hannah yelled. “Don’t let him out.”
“Too late. The door sprang when the crate rolled.”
Before she could comment she saw the shadow of a second large male body rising from the floor. Fleming was loose. She’d lost her only advantage.
One of them swung a punch, she couldn’t tell which. It connected with a sickening cracking sound. The second man grabbed for the aggressor and they went down again, out of Hannah’s sight.
Next to her, Thor had assumed the passenger seat and was watching the fight without making any effort to participate. Hannah supposed that was for the best, given the careening van and the shepherd’s lack of professional training.
Wet fallen leaves were piled along the curbs. Hannah wasn’t about to slow down enough to give either convict the chance to overpower her so she made the last turn into the parking lot of a strip mall on two wheels, sliding on the leaves and slightly missing the actual entrance. Two of her tires bounced over a curb. The rear doors banged open. One of the combatants was slammed into a side wall and barely missed being ejected.
Hannah saw him make a grab for the other man and miss. She braked hard, hoping momentum would keep either from falling out. It worked for her ally in the black jacket and ball cap. Deuce disappeared through the opening.
Following closely, an SUV swerved to miss the prone body, then slowed to a stop behind her van. Men jumped out both sides and began to gather around Fleming. She could tell they were concerned for him because they ignored the idling van for a few brief moments.
Crawling toward her on the floor, Rafe shouted, “Keep going.”
“We didn’t kill him, did we?”
“He’s still moving, if that’s what you mean. Now, drive.”
“No. I have to tell them it was an accident. He was fighting and fell out.”
“Best thing that could have happened,” Rafe countered. He regained the passenger seat, shoving Thor aside to make room.
“Was that Fleming’s gang? I need to explain.”
“Really?” Rafe ducked as loud booms echoed and glass in the passenger side window shattered.
They were being shot at! She slammed her foot down on the accelerator. Tires screamed seeking traction. Fishtailing, the van slid sideways just in time to head into the drive for the exit and smoothly merge with passing traffic as if she actually knew how to drive defensively.
Seething with anger and trembling all the way to her core, she covered the next two blocks before she chanced speaking to Rafe. “You’ve ruined everything.”
“Hey, I got rid of Fleming for you.”
Her fists whitened on the wheel and she could barely breathe when she said, “You may have just killed my Gram.”