Crossfire Christmas by Julie Miller Read Free Book Online

in his lap, Nash risked tipping his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes for a few seconds. The heat inside the car was a drugging mix of pain and relief. The thawing nerve endings around his wounds and frozen toes stung like hundreds of needles piercing his skin. Yet drawing warm air into his lungs after so many hours exposed to the elements seemed to ease the constriction in his chest. Maybe it was the influx of oxygen into his system, or maybe these were the last moments of his life seeping away, and all he wanted to do was sleep.
    This was humiliating, to be so helpless, so dependent on a frightened woman for survival. And while he might be more comfortable giving orders to his men or smack-talking his way with the bad guys, he’d sweet-talked a woman or two in his day. But that required a degree of thought and patience, and minding the words that came out of his mouth, that he didn’t possess the energy to stay on top of this evening. So he’d resorted to the bull-in-a-china-shop approach to gaining her cooperation.
    Once he was in better shape, he’d let her go. She could report him to the local police after she’d gotten him off this exposed stretch of road, stitched him up and bought him a few hours of rest. Of course, by the time he released her and any cops got wind of his presence here in Kansas City, he intended to be long gone.
    The car door slammed behind him, startling him from a dozing state, reminding him that he probably needed a good twelve hours of rest and recovery time before he could let his reluctant rescuer contact anyone. That meant he had to stay alert and he had to stay mean to maintain the upper hand and keep her from asking any questions or turning him in. If she never found out who he was or who was after him, the cartel wouldn’t be able to tie him to her. He needed her to believe he was a threat, but Nash intended to walk away without doing more than inconveniencing her for one night. Berto Graciela and Santiago Vargas and their selfish greed were real dangers he wouldn’t risk her life on by making her any kind of witness or information source.
    When she opened the driver’s door and got in, the blast of cold air revived him further. “Let’s go.”
    Instead of obeying, she cranked the heat, peeled off her remaining glove and rubbed her fingers in front of the heating vent. He could see her visibly shaking now, but he wondered how much of that was the cold and how much was fear. “What’s going to happen to me?”
    “Nothing, if you do what I tell you.”
    She slid him a sideways glance before focusing on bringing warmth back to her fingers again. “You owe me a new phone.”
    The corner of his mouth wanted to crook with amusement at the woman’s refusal to say die. Ignoring his growing admiration for her spirit, though, he reached over and turned the heat back down to low—partly to keep his head clear and partly to remind her who was in charge. “Drive.”
    “I’d like to wait until I can feel my toes first.”
    He shifted the gun in his lap. “It wasn’t a request.”
    She tucked a long strand of tangled hair behind her ear, peeking at him around her hand. Her gaze dropped to the Smith & Wesson pointed at her before she buckled herself in and shifted the car into gear. “You’re a bully, you know that?”
    “I know,” he answered, surprised she hadn’t called him worse. Nash checked the mirrors right along with her, ensuring the road was clear in both directions before she pulled out. “Did you give 911 my license plate number?”
    “No. I was more worried about your safety. Stupid me, huh?”
    Good. That should buy them a few minutes. A police officer, ambulance and fire engine were most likely already en route to the scene. But if she hadn’t reported his truck, then the authorities wouldn’t be able to track him or put his name over the wires until they arrived on site. And he intended to be long gone by then.
    She tapped on the brake, slowing