Tires screamed but held as he hit the exit and shot through it, forced to lower his speed to make the tight turns that would lead into the backstreet he was looking for.

Elijah was all but on his bumper as Graham forced himself to slow to the legal speed limit. Whoever was looking for Lyrica would still be out there. There was no reason to make anyone suspicious before he managed to find her and get her out of town.

He wanted a chance to figure out what was going on and who’d decided to come after her with a gun before they had any more information other than the fact that she’d disappeared.

“Call Eli,” he ordered the computer.

“Yeah?” Elijah answered before the first ring finished.

“We’re close. Give me enough room to allow me to back into the alley. There’s no exit there.”

“Got it.” The truck immediately slowed. “I have cover ready. I’ll pull in behind you. Give me a second to check the rooftops before you move.”

“Got it.” Disconnecting, he drew to a stop, then reversed quickly and backed to the end of the alley that the GPS had pinpointed as Lyrica’s location.

She had to be here.

God help him if she wasn’t.

God help whoever had her if they’d found her. If she was hurt, he’d find them, and he’d ensure they regretted that mistake in ways they could never imagine.

—

The sound of vehicles pulling to a stop caused Lyrica’s breath to catch. She didn’t dare move. The glow of lights was shining all around her, possibly compromising the shadowed little alcove she was hiding in.

Her back was killing her and her legs were cramped. It felt like she’d been there for hours, still too terrified to move, to do anything more than just breathe. Silent tears slipped from her eyes. She’d prayed silently, certain each sound was a return of the assailant.

And he had returned at least once.

She’d watched his shadow, felt fear screaming through her as he’d tried to shift the Dumpster, moving it enough to wedge himself in between the side of it and the wall, as he seemed to be attempting to look behind it.

He’d thrown the lids open instead and looked inside. He may have glanced behind it, but he’d cursed silently, moving around the alley and kicking boxes seconds later.

She’d nearly screamed in fear at the sound of glass breaking and another cat squalling seconds after he left that second time.

Now the lights would make it far easier to see her.

Moving slowly and biting her lip at the agonizing feel of her cramped muscles being forced to move, she moved into position to run. Crouched, forced to huddle on her hands and knees, tears falling from her eyes again, she promised herself if they caught her, she wouldn’t beg.

A Mackay didn’t beg, she reminded herself. If one did, then she would have done so by now. She would have begged Graham to explain last winter. She would have begged him to love her, perhaps. There wasn’t a lot she would have begged for, but those things, at one time, she might have considered.

If only Graham had managed to get here in time to save her . . .

FOUR

“Roofs are clear,” Elijah confirmed as Graham checked the clip to his handgun before pushing it back into place and chambering the first round.

“Keep your eyes open,” Graham ordered.

As he stepped cautiously from the Viper, the motor still throbbed powerfully, waiting for the lightest touch to throw it into gear. Leaving his door open, he stepped around to the passenger door, opened it quickly, then moved into a protective position at the edge of the Dumpster.

“Lyrica, move it,” he commanded.

For several long seconds nothing moved.

“Lyrica, baby, come on, move it. We don’t have a lot of time.”

What if she’d been found? What if she’d had to run again and hadn’t been able to reengage the battery in her phone to contact him?

He was ready to turn to Elijah and order him to call in the team when he heard the first sob. A second later her dark head peeked around the far edge of the Dumpster and she was moving to him.

Her pale face, filled with stark fear and hope, was scratched, the shoulder-length mass of silky black hair falling mussed around her face as she struggled to get to him. Reaching out, he shoved the Dumpster a few inches out of the way and reached in and grabbed her shoulders before hauling her into his arms.

“Oh god. Graham.” Sweet, warm, and far too fragile, she laid her head against his chest, her trembling fingers fisting into his T-shirt as she shuddered in his arms.

“Let’s get out of here before we’re seen.” Moving quickly, he eased her into the passenger seat. “Get down as far as you can, and keep your head down. Let’s get you out of town before anyone’s the wiser.”

Slamming the door closed, Graham loped around the front of the car, gave Elijah the signal to head out, then slid into the driver’s seat and threw the vehicle into gear. Before accelerating he pushed her head to his lap and pulled the jacket he kept behind the passenger seat over her head and shoulders. Then he followed Elijah with a surge of power.

“We’re moving slowly out of town,” he told her as he felt her fingers pressing against his thigh, her cheek far too close to the erection swelling beneath his jeans. “We’re going to just take it easy, draw no attention to ourselves, and once we reach the interstate we’ll make sure no one’s following.”

“What about your tags?” Her voice was muffled, her heated breath wrapping around the heavy flesh of his shaft like a wicked, ghostly touch.

“Tags are counterfeit,” he grunted. “Think James Bond.”

She was silent for several long moments, but her nails were flexing against the denim covering his thigh in a sensual little caress sure to drive him crazy.

“Are you and Dawg related?” There was a heavy sigh of resignation in her voice. “The Jeep was like that before I bought it.”

Graham had to grin at the thought of Dawg’s Jeep Wrangler.

“Did he change the engine out before he let you have it?”

“Of course.” She sighed. “Took him and Natches two weeks to get it ready for me.”

Graham didn’t doubt that a bit. The male Mackays were careful bastards—the females of the family, on the other hand, were far too soft, gentle, and fragile.

“We’re coming up to the next alley. There are two men in the shadows up ahead. Don’t move, baby.”

The windows of the Viper were dark enough that he was certain she wouldn’t be seen, especially with the black leather jacket covering her. The figures remained motionless where they were hidden between the two buildings, no doubt watching his and Elijah’s vehicles carefully.

Theirs weren’t the only vehicles on the small side street, though. Another had pulled out behind them, and a pickup waited just ahead to turn onto the street. Each of them was carrying more than one occupant, giving Graham a reasonable assurance of security as they passed.

Elijah’s left turn signal blinked on; a second later Graham flipped the right signal of the Viper on. They’d converge at the entrance to the interstate a mile or so away.

Where Graham was keeping the appearance of casual boredom, Elijah on the other hand was moving a little fast, his body language nervous as he appeared to be watching everything and everybody and to be suspicious of it all.

If someone was going to follow any of these cars, it would be the pickup with the redneck acting like he had something to hide. And if anyone did follow him, Elijah would take care of it.