Blind Fury Read online

  “You know me, baby. I’m all about the fun.” The playful tone he was going for never quite made it to his voice.

  A look of determination crossed her face, and maybe even a quick flash of understanding, but that was probably just wishful thinking. After a long minute of playing with the strips of napkin, she scooped them up and let them fall like confetti into the empty pizza box. “All right. What do I have to lose?” Maybe she didn’t even believe him, but she seemed like she was willing to play along.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” he said.

  Tapping her lip, she looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Fury. Heck, they could just call you that. The Fury. Or Furious.” She glanced at him and pressed her lips together when he didn’t respond. Then, as if she’d forgotten about the stakes of the game, her face grew more animated. She was enjoying this. “Mad Mick. Mickey Mouse?”

  In spite of himself, he laughed, finding her good humor contagious. They both needed a break from the tension. “Nope.”

  “Fury. Fury. Furry?”

  He shook his head.

  “Mick Fury. Mick Fury.” She glanced at him. “It’s starting to sound weird. You know, like when you say ‘orange’ too many times and it loses all meaning?”

  “Whatever.” He raised his eyebrows and circled his finger around his temple in the universal sign for crazy.

  She kicked him lightly under the table. “Jerk.”

  He grinned. How could he be enjoying himself this much?

  Mumbling his name over and over again, she did sound kind of crazy, though he liked hearing his name on her lips. But, whoa, boy. Don’t go there.

  “Mick Jagger. Lips. Rooney. McDonald’s?” She leaned forward and pressed her hands to the table. “Mickey D.”

  A little jolt of adrenaline shot through him. She was getting close. He shook his head.

  “Big Mick.” She tapped her finger on the table and gazed intently at it, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Mick Fury,” she mumbled again.

  His name had started to lose its meaning to him too.

  She sat up and snapped her fingers, smiling. “McFlurry!”

  His face heated and his heart gave an extra thump of alarm. “I always knew you were a smart girl.”

  Jenna gave a surprised laugh. “McFlurry? That’s really it?”

  He nodded. “Super badass, huh?” What could he say? Being nicknamed after an ice cream treat sucked.

  She covered her mouth with her hands, but her smile shone in her eyes. “It’s cute.”

  “Oh, God,” he groaned. “Cute is the complete opposite of badass. You’re killing me here, honey.”

  As if a switch had been flipped, the mood in the room suddenly changed, and her smile faded. “Are you really going to hold up your end of the deal?”

  He sobered. “Of course.”

  “Right now?”

  The longer he put it off, the worse he felt. Might as well get it over with. “If you’re ready.”

  “I have a feeling that the rest of the story can’t be worse than what I’m imagining,” she said.

  “I hope so,” he said, standing. “Let’s move to the couch.”

  He cleared the pizza mess and found a comfortable spot on the sofa, then turned out the light. With all the blinds closed and the sun long gone, the house was dark but for the faint glow of the porch light through the blinds.

  “We’re going to do this in the dark?” she asked. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to see your face when I tell you what I have to say.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  JENNA STUDIED MICK’S SHADOW from the opposite end of the couch, hugging a throw pillow to her chest as her eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness. “If you’re trying to scare me, it’s working.” God, what could be so horrible? She wasn’t even sure she wanted to know anymore. Stupid, after all she’d put him through to get to this point, but watching him now, seeing the emotional toll it was taking on him…

  She didn’t want to hurt him anymore.

  “Good. Then maybe it won’t seem so bad in comparison.” In the dim glow of the streetlight that filtered through the window shades, his shadow shifted. He rested his forearms on his knees and stared at the floor.

  “How about you start by telling me why you’ve changed your mind?”

  He took a deep breath and met her gaze. “Okay. But to be clear, I still don’t want to tell you. For so many reasons.”

  A crack split the night, and the living room window shattered, shards of glass hitting the wood floor with a musical crash. Mick grunted and leaped on top of Jenna, pulling her down onto to the deep-pile area rug and covering her with his body. “Are you okay?” His arms cradled her back and head as he used his elbows to keep his full weight off of her.

  Her blood pressure was probably off the charts, but she didn’t think she’d been hit. Maybe a few pieces of glass, because her face and arm felt wet, but nothing serious. “I think so. What about you?”

  “I’m fine.” A bullet tore into the couch with a muted thud. “Shit. Let’s move.” He dragged her toward the far end of the sleeper sofa, away from the window, but halfway there, his left arm gave out.

  “Are you hit?” she asked, helping him scramble the rest of the way. Later she’d be scared out of her freaking mind, but right now, she was too hopped up on adrenaline.

  “Not sure. It doesn’t matter. We need to get to the powder room pronto.”

  More shots cut through the air outside, but they didn’t seem to be aimed at the house. Were there two guns now?

  “I think our guys are on him,” Mick said. “Let’s run for it. Stay low.” He tugged her down to a crouching position and gave her a push. “Go!”

  She ran bent over as if sprinting toward a helicopter and slid into the windowless half bath. Mick slid in right behind her.

  “Don’t you want to shut the door?” she asked.

  “No. I need to be able to see them if they get into the house. Otherwise I won’t be able to take them out.”

  “Do you have a gun?” She hadn’t noticed one on him.

  “Of course.”

  Of course. Silly me. She sat on the toilet, sandwiched between the vanity and a shower curtain covered in yellow roses, while Mick squeezed himself between the counter and the doorway. He supported his left arm against the wall, the sound of his uneven breathing filling the room.

  “Let me look at your arm,” she said. “If you bleed to death, you won’t be any good to me.”

  “I’m fine. We can deal with it later.” He pulled out the cell phone Kurt had left him and pressed a few buttons, the screen bathing the tiny room in blue light. The deep shadows on his face gave him a sinister look.

  “Kurt, what the hell is going on?”

  There were no more shots outside, but angry voices and sirens could be heard through the broken windows.

  “Yeah, I got a bit of a scratch, but I can take care of it.”

  A scratch. Like hell. When he turned for a better look out of the door, she could clearly see the blood covering his arm and the side of his shirt. He’d been hit.

  “Okay. Thanks, man.” He stuffed the phone back into his pocket with a scowl. “The shooter ran off, so we don’t know who it was. And now the police are on their way. I have to go. Now.”

  Her stomach dropped. She couldn’t let him leave her again. She popped to her feet and grabbed his uninjured arm. “Take me with you.”

  “No. You’re not safe with me.”

  “I’m not safe without you.” And damn it all, she loved him.

  “Kurt’s guys can protect you better than I can, especially injured and on the run.”

  “Yeah, they’ve done a great job so far,” she said, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. For God’s sake, they’d only been there for two hours before someone had managed to get shots in through the window. “Besides, if I don’t go with you, you won’t take care of that arm.” She held his gaze, determined to change his mind. “Please,” she whispered.r />
  “Jenna.” He sighed and beat his head against the wall a couple times before he straightened. “Fuck. I’ll get your bag. Check under the sink for anything useful. Then we’ll get the hell out of here.”

  She pulled open the cupboard while he crawled down the short hallway and snatched her oversized purse from its spot on the living room floor.

  “Here,” he said, handing her the bag. “Pull the battery out of your phone. Until we know what’s going on, I don’t trust anyone.”

  She did as he asked, and then found a first aid kit under the sink and tossed it in too.

  He called Kurt to let him know Jenna was coming with him, then removed his own battery, stuffing it and the phone into his front pocket.

  “Basement door,” he said. Before leading her downstairs, he scooped a blanket off the back of the couch as they passed it and snagged his baseball cap off the counter.

  The sirens were closer now, probably just down the street, when they slipped out the sliding door, triggering a shrill beep. Jenna jumped at the sound. “That would have been a good warning if someone had tried to get in.”

  “Yeah.”

  Swirling red and blue lights blinked on the grass at the edge of the building. The wet ground glistened under an almost-full moon as Mick grabbed her hand and they raced for the trees.

  Twenty minutes later, Mick bit back a curse as Jenna cleaned the wound on his triceps. Luckily the bullet had gone through without hitting the bone. But that also meant that he had two holes in his arm and his muscle was damaged.

  He was going to be doing one-armed pushups for a while.

  In the sickly light of the gas station bathroom, she bit her lip, her expression shaded by the baseball cap she’d tucked her hair into. “I’m sorry. I wish I could numb it for you.”

  “Kiss me. I won’t feel a thing.”

  She gave him a get-real look. “Are you saying I make you numb?”

  “No.” He removed Damon’s baseball cap from her head and slipped his good arm around her waist, reveling in the feel of her curves beneath his palm. “I’m saying that when I kiss you, everything else fades away. Pain, worry, everything. Kiss me, Jenna.”

  Her gaze softened, and her lips parted. He took that as a “yes” and moved in. The touch of her lips was pure bliss, and he couldn’t stop himself from nibbling and tasting at will. Damn the situation. She sighed and leaned into him, letting him take the kiss deeper.

  How could she doubt her effect on him? When their tongues met, he soared. She was his greatest rush. He would never need Afghanistan or fast cars if he could keep her.

  When she stepped back, he groaned in protest and tightened his grip on her waist.

  “Hold that thought,” she said, fumbling for the antibiotic cream.

  The kiss had worked like a charm. His arm still hurt like hell, but he didn’t feel like complaining anymore. Too many endorphins buzzing in his brain.

  She applied a large adhesive bandage to each wound and then leaned in, her fingers skittering across his tattoo. Her hand stilled suddenly and she sucked in a breath. “Does that say RJR?” Rob’s initials.

  Their eyes met and he nodded. “I had it added that night you picked me up from the bar.” Jesus, had it only been a week ago?

  As she rubbed the stylized letters that blended with the tribal pattern ringing his biceps, her eyes welled with tears. She blinked them back and cleared her throat. “That’s a nice way to memorialize him,” she said, averting her eyes as she rummaged through a brown paper sack of food and drinks that she’d purchased in the gas station’s market. She handed him two ibuprofen and a bottled water, along with a clean T-shirt that read “Washington D.C.” in blue and red block letters.

  “We need to get moving,” he said, trying to ignore the thrill of her touch as she helped him pull on the ridiculous shirt. Too bad they couldn’t hole up there for the night, but the place was disgusting. Plus, the cops might find them, especially if Jenna’s photo made the news and the clerk was sharper than he looked.

  They had been working under the assumption that while Mick’s photo had been broadcast on the news during the day, Jenna wouldn’t be recognized. Yet. And if the baseball cap did its job, the cashier might never be the wiser.

  Mick’s hair was currently black and wouldn’t match his photo, but the police might have already found the bank teller. They could modify his image accordingly. Oh yeah, and he was bleeding. That wasn’t suspicious or anything.

  “I bought a local map and grabbed a real estate guide from the rack near the entrance,” she said. “What if we looked for a vacant house to hide out in?”

  Smart woman. “That’s a great idea, but we’d be breaking and entering. I don’t want to get you into more trouble.”

  She shrugged. “What the hell, I’m already aiding a fugitive. How much worse could it be?” The way she chewed her lower lip belied her brave words, but he didn’t call her on it.

  Jenna found three empty homes for sale nearby. Two were within a mile of the gas station.

  They set out, sticking to the side streets, eventually switching over to a bike path that ran behind a large neighborhood. The trail crisscrossed Fairfax County, cutting through the forested areas. It would allow them to stay off the main roads for a while.

  The moon shone through the mostly bare trees, making it easy to follow the trail, but they periodically tripped over roots and stones that were hidden in the shadows of the path. Mick held Jenna’s hand so they could support each other. And because he liked touching her.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think the whole shooting incident was an elaborate ruse to keep you from telling me anything,” she said.

  “That may not be as far-fetched as it sounds. Someone could have found a way to listen in. A parabolic dish, a bug…who knows?”

  She slowed, as if digesting the information, then turned to face him. “But how could they see in the dark to shoot?”

  “I don’t know. There are radar devices that use Wi-Fi and have pretty good fidelity through walls. Or maybe they were shooting blind. Anyway, they’re clearly willing to go to any extreme to take us out at this point.” He came to a full stop. “What’s really bugging me is how they found the house in the first place.”

  “They must have been trailing me and Kurt. You should have him check his car for a tracking device.”

  Or an inside man. Mick sighed. What a fuck-up. Not that he could do anything about it now. He just needed to keep Jenna safe.

  He tugged her off the path and they walked along the sidewalk in silence—just a couple out for a late-night stroll—until they reached the first house. Lights shone brightly through the windows, and a car sat in the driveway, so this one was a no-go. A few more minutes brought them to the second home, and that was when they hit pay dirt.

  No lights were on inside or out, and a colorful flyer was wedged between the screen door and the doorjamb. Blinds covered the windows, which meant that he and Jenna would have more freedom to roam the house once they got inside.

  Seeing no potential witnesses in the area, Mick waved her toward the backyard. There were no alarm company signs or window stickers. A vacant house was less likely to be wired to a dispatcher even if a system was in place, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

  Sticking to the shadows, he found a basement window that looked just big enough for Jenna to squeeze through. Preferring not to break the glass if possible, he used his pocket knife to jimmy the old latch until it popped free, and then slid the window back slowly in case it squeaked.

  “Are you okay with going in?” he asked.

  She stuck her head inside and peered into the dark room. Looking back at him, she said, “No problem. It’s a finished basement.”

  Without another glance, she slipped in feet first and landed with a light thud on the carpeted floor. She slid the window shut and, moments later, appeared behind a curtain at the fake French doors to let him in.

  The musty odor of damp earth invade
d his nostrils, but the house was at least ten degrees warmer than outside. They’d be comfortable on the dry floor, and they’d be hidden from prying eyes. Better yet, no one would think to look for them here.

  “Stay here.” Ignoring his throbbing arm, he jogged through the house before returning to the basement. “It’s clear. And the utilities are still on. It smells better upstairs, and all the windows are covered.” But there was enough light leaking in through the blinds from the street lamps that they could see to move around.

  They settled in the living room, where there was easy access to at least a couple of exits, and spread the blanket from the not-so-safe house over what smelled—and looked—like new carpet.

  Jenna sat to his right, her back propped against the wall. “How’s your arm?” she asked.

  Pretty much on fire, but there was no point in whining about it. “It’ll be fine. I think the meds are kicking in.” He grabbed her hand in the semidarkness. “How are you holding up?”

  “Hey, this dangerous life is old hat now.” She gave a shaky laugh. “If we survive, I don’t think anything will scare me anymore.”

  “We’ll make it. I think I have a plan.”

  “Does it include telling me the rest of your story?”

  Like a dog with a bone, this woman. He sighed. “Yes.”

  She took a deep breath and squeezed his hand. “I don’t think you should.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean? You’ve done nothing but hound me over this for days, and now you don’t want to know?” Jesus, wasn’t this the one thing that was keeping them apart?

  “No.” She shook her head. “I do. But my love for you is stronger than my need to know the whole truth about that day.”

  His throat tightened. She loved him? “And last night was—”

  She met his gaze in the dim light, a pink blush tinting her cheeks. “I meant what I said earlier. Last night was something I’ve dreamed about for years.”

  She wasn’t the only one.

  “I’m so sorry about this morning,” she continued. “I was only thinking of myself. If I could take it all back, I would. In a heartbeat.”