Breach of Trust by Jodie Bailey Page A

someday.”
    Tate had to tear his attention away from her. He wanted to reach across the seat and pull her to him, try to soothe some of the hurt she still carried from those years she’d been alone. He wanted to tell her he’d be there for her.
    But he couldn’t. She’d confessed to an act questionable enough to land her in prison, even though he knew her well enough to believe she’d had no choice.
    Anger at Phoenix blew even hotter. The man had manipulated a kid, one already bruised by the world, a kid who’d grown up to be a stellar operative and an even better person whose one dream was to stop other kids from hurting the same way she had. Meghan didn’t deserve this.
    He held the wheel tighter, trying to keep the truck and his thoughts steady. “You still keep a go bag packed by the back door, don’t you?” He had no doubt there was a backpack hanging on a peg somewhere in her house, stocked with clothes and cash in case she needed to get out fast. Old habits died hard, and when your whole life was spent shuffling, they died even harder.
    â€œFocus on the job, Walker. He’s noticed the lack of civilization and he’s gaining fast.”
    Perfect. “I’m on it.” He’d already spotted the perfect place for a standoff. “Get ready.”
    Tate planted his focus on the rearview and watched the car approach, calculating speed and distance. He had to do this perfectly, or they’d all find themselves in the ditch.
    When the car was close enough for Tate to make out the man’s facial features, he slammed on the brakes. Hard.
    Tires screeched. Rubber burned into the cab of the truck. The seat belt jerked hard against his body, pinning him against the seat as Meghan grunted beside him.
    And then more tires squealing and a metallic ripping sound as the car behind them veered off the road and into a field.
    â€œYou good?” Tate jammed the truck into Park, released his seat belt and reached for the door handle. He didn’t want to give their guy a chance to run, but he needed to know Meghan was okay.
    â€œGood.” She jammed the button on her seat belt and lifted the center console, sliding across the seat toward him.
    Tate dropped beside the truck, keeping low, and crept to the rear or the vehicle, crouching behind the tire, gun drawn.
    Meghan took a position at the front. “You see him?”
    â€œNot yet.” Keeping low, he eased around the rear of the truck, trying to locate their target.
    The small white sports car sat in the field, nose buried in the gray dirt. The driver’s door hung open, the air bag limp inside, but no driver sat in the seat.
    â€œHe’s out.” Tate wanted to pound his fist against the side of the truck. He’d hoped the impact would daze the guy enough to give Meghan and him time to take an offensive position. Now they were on a level playing field until they could flush out the other man’s whereabouts. Shifting into a crouch, he fired a directive to Meghan. “Making myself a target. If he shoots, watch for him.”
    Her hefty sigh said she wanted to argue, but really, they had no other way to gain intel. She got into position. “Ready.”
    Lord, don’t let me get hit. Tate fired off the quick prayer and leaned farther around the bed of the truck, leading with his pistol, tensed for whatever would come.
    A bullet thwacked into the opposite taillight, shattering the plastic as Tate threw himself backward. “Tell me you saw him.” Because he really didn’t want to risk taking a hit again.
    â€œOn the other side of the car, near the rear window.” She held her gun as if it were an extension of her arm; time clearly had not dulled her muscle memory. “And a bullet in the truck I’m going to have to explain to the Snyders now.” She twisted a wry grin before growing serious again. “There’s two of us and one of him. And we have the