He took the pills from her grasp and read the label. “You have a heart condition?”
She nodded. “Need a minute…meds…kick in.”
The wheezing faded from her breathing and she didn’t appear to have any major injuries. She’d be fine if her medication worked.
Castle slipped his arm underneath her legs, banded the other around her waist, and hoisted her up. Her head lolled against his chest, body settling into the tight cradle of his grip. She was lighter than she looked. No more than a buck thirty. With her height of five eight, maybe five nine, a little extra meat on her bones would do her good. So would a shower.
She didn’t smell the best. Safe bet she hadn’t slept, showered, or eaten a decent meal in a while.
Hustling to the car, he clicked his tongue to ensure Achilles kept close.
The woman shivered against him. Her delicate body trembling in his arms triggered a strange protectiveness. One that eclipsed duty, stirring him on some primal level.
He shook it off before he softened, rearranging his thoughts.
Teeth chattering, she trembled and gasped for air as if she’d run a marathon. The combination of cold and shock must’ve been getting to her. The eye-popping dress she wore wasn’t helping. Three inches shorter and it would’ve failed to cover her ass. Ridiculous to wear the skimpy thing on such a breezy, frigid day.
Best to get her warmed up, comfortable, and safe at the Gray Box, fast. He picked up his pace and glanced down to check if her meds were taking effect. Her anxious gaze met his, and he was momentarily awestruck by the sweetness of her face up close, her arresting bone structure, those crazy-beautiful eyes—a raw mix of wildfire and a haunting fragility.
He opened the passenger’s side door of the bulletproof government SUV and tucked her gently inside, careful not to hit her head on the frame. Throwing him an uneasy look, she clutched her messenger bag close to her chest. He flipped the latch on the frame of the door to engage the detainment function. Sort of like a child safety lock to prevent someone from opening the door from the inside but for adults taken into custody.
The fine hairs on the nape of his neck raised—that instinctual sense of warning. He wheeled around, scanning the area. All clear. Nothing and nobody stood out.
He hurried to the driver’s side. With a whistle, he let Achilles hop in. The dog scooted between the front seats to the back. He had stayed with the young woman the entire time. Best damn mutt ever had earned himself a steak dinner.
“I’ve secured the target,” he said to Alistair over comms, gunning the engine, and peeled out of the parking spot, hitting Louisiana Avenue. “Headed back to headquarters.”
“You missed the rest of the fun. Those boys cleared out like ghosts, scattering to the four winds as soon as the bells stopped ringing.”
His palms itched. It was that familiar whisper of warning. “Their degree of self-control, the impeccable timing, something about it bothers me.” Castle cranked on the heater to help warm the woman. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear they were operatives.”
“This line of work, sometimes we’re two different sides of the same coin. Reaper and Maddox are in pursuit of two via car. We lost the others. I’ll hitch a ride back with Reece.”
“Roger. See you at headquarters.” He removed his earpiece and set the wireless device, half the size of a thimble, onto the console. “Any idea who those guys were and why they want you dead?” He glanced in his rearview mirror and then over at his passenger.
She held a small canister of pepper spray aimed at his face. “Stop the car. Let me out.”
Well, she’d recovered faster than expected.
“Depressing that in a compact, enclosed environment wouldn’t bode well for either one of us. Besides, I’m one of the good guys.” He sped up as the traffic light turned yellow, whizzing across D Street. “Just saved your life, remember? I only want to get you somewhere safe to talk.”
He glanced in the rearview mirror.
Behind them, a silver SUV tore around a black sedan, cutting into the opposite lane, and ran the red light. They had a tail. Damn, these guys were impressive.
“You said you were a government agent but haven’t shown me any ID. Even if you’re telling the truth, it doesn’t necessarily make you one of the good guys.” She eyed him with her spine pressed against the door but tracked their position in traffic with furtive glances out the window. Probably gauging their approach toward Massachusetts Avenue and Union Station. “Pull over, up ahead. Columbus Circle.”
Zero possibility of letting her go. The Gray Box couldn’t afford to lose her. She obviously knew something important, and with the serious heat on her ass, she wouldn’t make it much longer on her own. But Castle had her and he wasn’t going to let anything unfortunate happen. Like her taking a hypodermic needle loaded with only-God-knows-what to her neck or a bullet between the eyes.
“Skepticism is smart.” He swiped the canister from her hand and tossed it onto the floor underneath his legs. Her eyes flared wide, blinking with surprise. “But unnecessary with me.”
He stopped the car at the green light, waiting to enter the two-way flow of traffic at Columbus Circle. Vehicles behind him skidded to a halt, and a series of horn beeps followed.
She turned for the door and jerked the handle. Dead click. Locked.
“Unlock it.” She yanked the handle over and over, cheeks reddening. Distress and fear splashed across her face. “Let me out.”
Annoyed drivers honked behind them, but Castle tightened his composure with calculated resolve. “Sorry, can’t let you out. Matter of national security. I need you.”
“Stop saying that.” She narrowed her eyes like she wanted to claw his from their sockets. “You Uncle-Sam thugs throw around national security like it was a license to strip citizens of civil liberties, spy on us without court orders, and lock us in black sites for reasons too classified to discuss. I’m calling national bullcrap.”
Great. She sounded like one of those antigovernment, antimilitary—which pretty much meant anti-Castle—nutcases. Probably the reason she’d turned to a loony conspiracy theorist blogger for help rather than authorities. The chief would have a field day with her.
The traffic light flashed yellow.
In the side mirror, he sighted the silver SUV two cars back. Horns blared. His passenger screamed for help, banging on the darkly tinted window, drawing attention from lookie-loos.
Castle tuned it out, steeling himself, and waited for the right moment to move.
The traffic light switched to red. He resisted the urge to drive for three seconds, letting the adrenaline fire through him rather than control him, then punched the accelerator. He plowed into the thoroughfare as merging traffic began flowing.