Sharon Ashwood - Unchained

At that moment, the lawyer looked up. Even through the tinted glass of the car window, she could see him pale as he figured out who was glaring into his passenger window. His expression said he was terrified of Ashe. Gratifying, but . . . Sure, she’d roughed him up a bit, but not enough to explain the sudden tears in his eyes. That made her plain curious. Had something new happened?

Suddenly the silver BMW swerved out of its lane, moving to the right to slide into the turning lane that led to the highway. An evasive maneuver, if there ever was one. That doubled Ashe’s curiosity. Did Bannerman somehow know that she knew he’d hired the assassin to kill her?

The moment he began to pick up speed, the light changed. Ashe cut across two lanes of traffic before the other drivers could react. Like a shot, she was after the lawyer, Reynard letting out a whoop as the Ducati’s engine opened up with a snarl.

The gorgeous BMW had plenty of horses of its own, and Bannerman had a head start. They were on the four-lane stretch of road that would eventually head to the ferries. Ashe was cautious about weaving around cars, especially with a passenger, but she pulled past the pickup in front of her to get a better visual of Bannerman’s car. The pickup honked, but it was mere background noise. She had the roar of the engine in her head, the vibration between her thighs, and a hot and happy male pressed against her back. She was born for moments like this. Her heart seemed to beat in her throat, straining like a horse fighting its bit.

Bannerman was two cars ahead now, and signaling to pass a third. They swept beneath an overpass, the heavy band of shadow a sudden coolness on her face. The BMW changed lanes, sped up. Ashe guided the Ducati into the space between two lanes and let it rip. She felt Reynard’s hands tighten around her waist.

In twenty seconds, she slid into a space only a car length behind her quarry. She saw Bannerman looking in the rearview, squirming, rubbernecking from side to side for an escape.

Why was he so afraid? It wasn’t like she had punched him out or anything.

He took a risky dodge into the left lane. In another second, he turned, flooring it before three lanes of south-bound traffic could T-bone his beautiful car. Ashe swore, but more for form’s sake. She simply pulled an illegal Uey at the next break in the meridian.

“Bloody hell, woman!” Reynard roared in her ear.

“Suck it up; we’ve almost got him.”

Okay, so that was a little optimistic. By the time Ashe reached the turnoff, she saw the BMW silhouetted against the bright April sky. Bannerman was heading southeast on one of the narrow roads that led through the maze of hobby farms north of Fairview. If they lost him in that neck of the woods, the trail would grow cold fast.

There was nothing but empty field between her and Bannerman’s car, but the winter rains had turned the ground into a muddy slough. She found herself slowing to compensate for dirt and gravel left behind by farm vehicles crossing from field to road. Bannerman was slowing as well, bumps in the road threatening to bottom out the expensive car. The lawyer was more cautious than he needed to be, but that was fine with Ashe. She was gaining on her timid prey.

The BMW crested a hill and disappeared over the other side. Ashe did the same. Pulled up behind Bannerman. Pulled alongside him. She glanced over, saw the mix of fury and fear in his eyes.

As the hill began to descend, she took a risk and put on the speed. The Ducati swooped ahead, Ashe dodging most hazards but gambling with her control when the road bumped too hard. A half mile ahead, the road forked. That was all the space Ashe had to stop Bannerman. When she had gained just enough distance, she slowed the bike, turning it to block both lanes. Tires chewed the pavement as she slowed to a stop. A plume of dirt and dust kicked up.

Reynard jumped off, grabbing his helmet off his head. He looked ashen, but he ran to put himself between Ashe and the oncoming car, drawing his Smith & Wesson as he went.

“Whoa! Stop!” Ashe yelled, steps behind him.

For a moment, she thought they’d both be a hood ornament. Only at the last second did Bannerman stand on the brakes, bringing the vehicle to a lurching halt.

Ashe stood very still, partly to show no fear, partly because she thought her knees would collapse.

The passenger door flew open and Bannerman shot out in a panicked sprint toward the main highway.

You’ve got to be kidding.

Reynard set his helmet on the bike. “Shall we go wish Mr. Bannerman a good morning?”

Ashe was right behind him. “Oh, yeah, I’m looking forward to this.”

Reynard caught up to him in a burst of guardsman superspeed. He grabbed the lawyer by one arm, dragging him back before he’d gone a hundred feet. Reynard pinned him against the shiny BMW.

Despite the cool spring air, Bannerman was sweating, his hair limp against his skull. The skin under his eyes looked puffy and dull. He seemed to have aged ten years since Ashe had met him only a few weeks ago.

The lawyer was apparently getting what he deserved.

“Going somewhere in a hurry?” Ashe asked.

“Let go of me!” Bannerman snapped, but his eyes were begging.

What does he think we’re going to do? Not that she couldn’t think of a few things.

Ashe tried to guess what Bannerman was seeing. She and Reynard were both dressed for action in dark leathers, denim, and sunglasses. They probably looked like rejects from a metal band. Reynard took his hand off the lawyer’s arm, but stood close enough so the man still couldn’t move.

Ashe folded her arms, a bit of a trick in a tight leather jacket. “So how is good old Tony this morning?”

“Don’t ask me about him. I can’t talk about him.”

“Yeah, right. The compulsion.”

The skin around Bannerman’s eyes puckered. “It hurts.”

Reynard nodded. “Some silencing spells work through pain.”

“Is that why you ran just now? Because you were afraid we’d make you talk?”

Bannerman bobbed his head once, his face going gray. Sweat shone on his upper lip.

“Damn.” Ashe hated this. Bannerman was a creep and had earned a lot of payback, but she wasn’t into torture.

“Is the demon at the North Central Shopping Mall?” Reynard asked. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” The lawyer writhed as if something had pierced him through.

Reynard leaned closer, his expression showing regret, but neither did he shy away from the task at hand. “Has he purchased other places?”

“Not yet.”

So the two other addresses the hacker had given them were Bannerman’s own investments and not for Tony. Good to know.

“Are you in the process of arranging such a purchase for the demon?” Reynard asked.

“Yes.” Bannerman gasped.

“How many?”

Bannerman twisted and fell to his hands and knees, retching. Ashe jumped back before he puked on her boots. The sound made her mouth water in sick sympathy.

The lawyer held up three fingers.

The demon was trying to buy three other places.

Bannerman crawled to his feet, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. Reynard hauled him up until he could lean on the car. Bannerman’s head fell forward. When he lifted it slowly, Ashe could read the exhaustion in every line of his body.

“It seemed simple at first,” the lawyer said. “He seemed normal, even nice. He just wanted a bookstore. I was settling the Cowan estate. I thought, why not? But then things changed.” Bannerman’s face twitched, but he had the look of a man gone beyond pain to numb surrender.

“How?”

“It’s like he was part human when he first came into the office. I couldn’t even tell he was a demon at first. Now he’s all demon, all the time.”