Running With the Devil by Lorelei James Read Free Book Online Page A

cover there. The place was lit up like the Fourth of July. For security purposes it was great. For his intention to sneak around it pretty much sucked.
    An eerie blue glow wavered from the community swimming pool. Three sides were enclosed by a redwood fence. He popped his head around the corner of one end, noticing the locked gate. Floral-printed chaise lounges stood empty. White resin lawn chairs were stacked. The striped umbrellas were tied shut.
    The ceramic pots of petunias weren’t large enough to conceal a poodle, so the shooter hadn’t jumped the fence and hidden in there. Good. It’d be harder now for the son-of-a-bitch to get the drop on him from behind.
    He listened to the sounds of the night. Traffic. The buzz of streetlights. Nothing out of the ordinary save the thumping of his heart. Ducking down, he scooted to the nearest edge of the parking lot, leaping from car shadow to car shadow on the balls of his feet.
    While stopping to catch his breath, a car door slammed. He froze and hunkered against the rear wheel well of an oversized Dodge dually pickup.
    Even though his pulse tripped, Drake forced himself to wait for the sweep of headlights. But the vehicle turned the opposite direction and didn’t give away his position. His relief was short lived as two women approached and lingered by the rusted-out Honda next to him to chat.
    If they saw him, they’d scream. If he showed himself as a precautionary measure, they’d scream. Either way he wished they’d stop dissecting some asshole’s selfish attitude in the sack and get going or else he’d scream.
    After they roared off, Drake stretched. His knees cracked like Rice Krispies.
    He squinted. Across the back lot sat the black Jeep. The rental looked drivable. No slashed tires or broken windows. He frowned and dragged a shaking hand through his hair.
    Why hadn’t the shooter disabled his car? If they’d been following him, wouldn’t they have tried to keep him from escaping?
    Unless they’d showed up after he and Kenna had gotten here and had no clue what kind of car he’d driven.
    Or…unless he wasn’t the target.
    Shit.
    Drake moved quickly, not wanting to leave Kenna alone and unprotected another second. He slipped into the seat, shoved the key in the ignition, keeping himself from burning rubber to get to her.
    He rolled up beside the Dumpster and reached back to open the door.
    A wide-eyed Kenna launched herself into the rear passenger side. She held the camouflage duffle bag like body armor as she dove for the floorboards. Once she’d slammed the door, Drake sped out the back exit of the complex.
    Conversation remained pointless as he drove in circles, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror. Soon as he was certain no one had followed them, he parked in the Save-Mart lot.
    Curled up in the fetal position in the back seat, Kenna’s body shook. Her pale eyes held the glassy sheen of shock.
    “Hey,” he said, stroking an unsteady hand down her arm. God. She was so cold. When he repeated the gentle caress, she recoiled. He managed not to flinch at her rejection. “You okay?”
    Hysterical laughter bubbled out. “Okay? I’m f-f-ucking p-p-eachy. Th-thanks f-f-or asking.”
    He touched her again anyway. “Jesus. You’re like a Popsicle.” He twisted, intending to climb into the backseat with her. “Let me warm you up.”
    Kenna shrank further into the burgundy leather. “You just stay the hell up there and leave me the hell alone.”
    “Kenna—”
    “Don’t.” Her mouth trembled but she firmed it. “I didn’t ask for this. This is your fault. You dragged me into this.”
    Drake’s gut clenched at her bitter tone. With more harshness than he’d intended, he said, “By involving yourself with Jerry Travis you got into this on your own.”
    “He’s dead! I told you I don’t know anything!”
    In frustration, he threw up his hands and smacked the headrest on the passenger’s side. “Don’t you understand? It’s my job to