Page 12 of Ruthless Guardian
Amy kept her mouth shut, letting him concentrate. They didn’t seem to be heading in any particular direction as Brogan swerved through the traffic of downtown. She was jostled by his quick maneuvers, but she didn’t care. She just kept glancing back to see if the SUV was still there.
Finally, after ten minutes of Brogan driving like a Hollywood stunt car operator, he managed to put a little distance between them. They were a half a block ahead of the SUV when Brogan whipped into an alley, crossing a lane of traffic and making her yelp in shock as a car almost T-boned them. The alley was narrow, but he was able to get them through to the other side before the SUV was even able to follow. Then, he turned back in the direction they came from and pulled that trick again a block later.
It was jarring, but in the end, they finally lost the SUV.
Amy let out a sigh and finally relaxed in her seat. She knew that she should probably stay vigilant since she was still in the car with a dangerous stranger, but she couldn’t help feeling relieved. This man hadn’t hurt or threatened her yet, which put him way above the men that abducted her, so that was something.
Besides, there was only so much anxiety a fear a person could handle in one day.
God, had it really only been one day?
“We lost them,” Brogan said, confirming what she’d already figured out. “You’re safe for now.”
“Safe? Are you sure about that?”
She looked at the handgun sitting on the seat between his legs, right where he could grab it easily. He hadn’t threatened her with it, but she hadn’t tried to get away from him.
“Yes,” he said, turning to meet her eyes as they came to a stop light. His were such a dark brown that they looked black in the dim lighting of the car’s dashboard. “I won’t hurt you.”
It would be so stupid to believe him. She knew that.
But he looked completely sincere. There was an earnest quality to his voice that she never would have expected, and she found herselfwantingit to be true. If he didn’t want to hurt or use her like the Italians did, that made him an ally. A capable, strong, and handsome ally.
Wait, what?
Did she just think of him as handsome?
Amy let her eyes roam over his face. His eyebrows were drawn together, forming a ridge above his eyes. He had a small scar running through the right one, no longer than an inch. He was clean shaven, and his black hair was buzzed short. And those lips of his were no longer pressed together, making him look harsh. They were slightly parted as he waited for her to respond, and she had the crazy idea that they looked full and soft, almost perfect for kissing.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Sure, he was attractive, but this was the absolute wrong time to notice such a thing.
“O-okay,” she stammered, finally managing a response. When he started driving again, Amy looked out the window and wondered where they were. This wasn’t a part of the city that she was familiar with.
Before she could ask, Brogan pulled into the parking lot of a building that looked like an old church. She tilted her head and looked at him curiously, but he was already getting out of the car.
She unbuckled her seat belt in a hurry to follow him. He came around to her side of the car as she stepped out, and she realized for the first time how much taller he was. Had to be about a foot of difference between them.
“You brought me to a church?” she asked as he jerked his head in the direction of the building to indicate she should follow him as he started to head across the parking lot. She scrambled to keep up with him.
“It’s The Sanctuary,” he replied, and she was shocked to realize that he wasn’t looking around for danger or even tense. He looked way more at ease than a man that was just exchanging gunfire had a right to look.
“Right, that’s what I said. It’s a church.”
The corner of his mouth twitched in what was almost a grin. “Actually, it’s a jazz club. It was converted ten years ago. But it’s called The Sanctuary.”
“You brought me to a club?”
She was more confused than ever. Who rescued a woman from certain death and brought her to a fucking jazz club like they were suddenly on a date? Was he crazy?
“It’s more than a club. It’s a neutral zone. No violence allowed on the grounds. That’s the rule.”
“And men like you and the ones chasing me always follow the rules?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
This time he definitely gave her a half grin before his face went back to being serious.
“The rules are enforced,” he said in an ominous way that brought up a million more questions. “You’re safe here.”