Taking Fire by Cindy Gerard Page A

pummeling her with questions.
    When one of them stepped directly in their path, Taggart lost it. “Get out of our way, or I’ll break your fucking face!”
    As if he were Moses, the crowd fell silent and parted like the Red Sea.

13

    Winded, head pounding, Bobby leaned against a light pole gathering strength, while Talia sprinted barefoot across ten yards of hot pavement to a white Ford Expedition. Heat waves shimmered over the parking lot. It had to be at least 110 degrees, even though the sun had dropped behind the nearby buildings.
    The pavement would be even hotter and had to hurt like hell, especially on top of all the damage she’d done to her feet. When he pushed away from the pole and caught up with her, the pain etched on her face almost had him feeling sorry for her.
    She hurriedly punched a code into a key panel on the driver’s door, wrenched the door open, and dived inside, moaning in relief.
    â€œI could have carried you.” Maybe .
    She just leaned over the wide front seat and unlocked the passenger door for him. Then she reached into the glove box, pulled out a single key hidden beneath the box’s lining, and pushed it into his hand. “Behind the license plate. Hurry.”
    She’d stopped surprising and disappointing him six years ago. So it came as no shock that when he tugged on the plate, it dropped down and revealed a hidden lockbox.
    If he hadn’t been hurting so badly, he’d have laughed when he inserted the key and opened it up. Of course, she had a secret compartment with an extra set of car keys, a cell phone, and an automatic pistol with three extra magazines.
    He quickly drew the Glock 26 out of its holster and pulled back the slide to make certain a round was chambered. Then he slapped the bottom of the magazine and slid it back into the holster, securing it before digging back into the lockbox.
    And holy God, he spotted several passports. This time, he did laugh. What woman needed passports under multiple names?
    He gathered everything but the passports, then stood up too fast. A wave of vertigo slammed him against the car. He closed his eyes. Breathed deep. Waited it out. And made an attempt to process everything about every single moment of this fucked-up day.
    The bombing. Talia. Ted—possibly dead. He should be back there looking for him. The hell with Marines restraining him; they’d have to catch him first.
    Which, he admitted as the dizziness slowly passed, wouldn’t have taken much effort.
    So he was with Talia instead. The one woman he’d promised himself he would never let affect him again.
    There was no question she was balancing on an edge as sharp as a razor, and now that his mind was almost back to functioning at full capacity, it was clear that whatever drove her ran even deeper than surviving the bombing.
    For some reason, she wanted him with her. He wanted to know why.
    Steadier, he made it to the passenger door and climbed inside.
    He held up the Glock. “I’m going to go out on a limb and assume we’ll be needing this.”
    She ignored him and snatched the cell phone out of his hand. Her hands shook as she turned it on and then, with the impatience of a thoroughbred at the starting gate, waited for it to power up.
    â€œYou said to wait until we got to the car,” he said. “We’re here. So what’s going on?”
    â€œNot now.” She shook her head sharply as the phone came to life.
    They sat in the sweltering heat as she punched in a number. Closed her eyes. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, held her breath.
    Apparently, no one answered, because after several seconds, she ended the call. Her hand fell to her lap. The despair on her face hit him like a punch to the gut.
    What the hell?
    She’d hauled him step after painful step out of the blast site, her elbows and knees scraped raw, her arms and feet bleeding, and she’d never made a whimper. Yet an unanswered phone sent a