LITMIR.BIZ

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pent-up fury on him. “Were you watching the whole time? You think you get to spy on me because...because why, exactly? Walk away, Travis. Seems like that’s the one thing you’re really good at.”

      He didn’t back off like she’d expected but held his ground, his expression neutral. “Just walking you to your car, Case. Let a guy be nice, okay?”

      Travis was a lot of things, including a big kid in a man’s body, but one thing was certain—his mama had taught him how to be a gentleman. He’d walk any lone female to her car. It had nothing to do with her. She could stand on the sidewalk and fight him, or she could let him take the walk to the end of the row with her, thank him, then go on her not-so-merry way.

      It was easier to give in. Without another word, she turned on her heel, made sure no cars were coming, then stepped off the sidewalk.

      Travis kept pace beside her, not saying a word.

      As much as she didn’t want to talk to him, Casey couldn’t hack the silence. Between the two of them, it was unnatural. She tightened her grip on the strap of her backpack, running her thumb along the stitching. “Did you ever get any word on orders?” He should have moved on from Bragg months ago, but an investigation at his unit had held all his soldiers in place. Word around post was the fence was down now that the investigation was closed, and guys were being shuffled to other assignments.

      He lagged behind then caught up, as though the question had slowed his pace. “I—” He cleared his throat. “I’m going to selection for a Special Missions Unit in a little over a week.”

      “I never knew you wanted to go that route.” There were a lot of things he’d kept from her, including his apparent fear of commitment.

      “You still with the Public Affairs Office?” He didn’t answer her question, and she didn’t push it.

      “I am.” They’d reached her Jeep and Casey stopped, staring at the door handle as she slipped the backpack from her shoulders. Turning to look at him would be dangerous. Her pride was already bruised by John. She didn’t need the reminder of what could have been if she let herself look at Travis Heath long enough to remember he wasn’t the root of all evil. “I’ll probably be there until—”

      There was movement at the front of her Jeep, and someone melted out of the shadows. Surely John wasn’t waiting, thinking he could shoehorn his way into her evening once again.

      She turned her back fully to Travis, facing the newcomer.

      It wasn’t John. A man appeared at the front of her SUV, a hood over his head casting his face into shadow, and a pistol pointed straight at her chest.

      * * *

      Travis’s muscles tightened, the heat of confrontation rushing through him. It took all he had not to shove Casey to safety and rush the guy. Instead, he edged between her and the gunman and balled his fists, forcing his attention from the pistol to the man, trying to size his advantage and figure out the best way to get Casey safely out of this.

      In spite of the heat, their attacker wore a dark hoodie pulled forward to distort his features in shadow. Still, something about him was vaguely familiar, a flicker of memory Travis couldn’t grasp.

      Now wasn’t the time to try.

      The gun wavered from Travis to Casey, almost as though the man holding it wasn’t quite sure what to do next.

      Travis eased one foot forward, getting himself in position to take out the foe, but the pistol stabilized, aimed squarely at him.

      Whoa. Travis froze, reading confusion in the gunman’s expression. This guy was no pro, but he wasn’t a novice either. Rather than aiming at the head, he had the pistol pointed squarely at center mass, the mark of someone who had at least a little training. Something told Travis the guy could probably get off a fairly accurate shot, but that wasn’t a theory he wanted to test.

      He’d trained for moments like this, but having Casey thrown into the mix complicated everything. Right now, Travis was physically trapped with the Jeep on one side and a car on the other, but he’d always been better with his words anyway. “Dude, you don’t have to do anything crazy.”

      The statement hardened the man’s resolve, and his stance stiffened. “I want her backpack...and your wallet.”

      “Take it easy.” He’d hand over everything in his possession as long as the guy didn’t pull the trigger on Casey. The barrel of a weapon aimed straight at them made Travis willing to do whatever it took to protect her.

      But he had an idea. “Casey, hand me your backpack.” He lowered his right arm slowly, like he was reaching behind him for the bag.

      The gunman steadied his aim.

      Behind Travis, Casey hesitated, giving him a second to pray she wouldn’t choose this moment to argue, then she slipped the strap into his hand.

      Perfect.

      Travis wrapped his fingers around the canvas strap and eased forward, bracing himself for whatever came next. If this was the last breath he took, at least he could say he’d given it all he had. He threw his arm out, the backpack catching their assailant in the arm.

      The gun clattered off the trunk of the car beside them and Travis rushed forward, but the narrow space between the Jeep and the car slowed his momentum.

      The other man snatched Casey’s backpack, skirted the front of the Jeep and ran for a dark sedan idling two spaces away, leaving tire rubber in the parking lot as Travis skidded to a halt, trying in vain to read the license plate before distance made it impossible.

      No good. The car was moving too fast and the lights weren’t bright enough.

      Travis slammed a fist into the side of his leg, then turned and ran to Casey, his heart racing from adrenaline and exertion. If anything had happened to her...

      She sat on the running board of her Jeep, face buried in her hands.

      Travis knelt in front of her and rested his hands on her knees. Even though the weapon hadn’t been fired, relief still washed over him at the sight of her. “You okay?”

      Her whole body moved with the effort of breathing. “Give me a minute.”

      Easing away, Travis stood and pulled his phone from his pocket to call the police. He let his free hand rest on the back of Casey’s head, running his fingers through the loose blond strands that fell forward to cover her cheeks, the softness cascading across hands that shook from the adrenaline of the chase. How to handle this? He couldn’t put an arm around her to hug her. She’d probably deck him. But he also couldn’t let her suffer alone.

      When he ended the call, Casey slipped her hair from his fingers and looked at him, her gray eyes cloaked in an emotion he couldn’t read. “I’m not your dog. You can stop petting me.”

      In spite of the situation, Travis bit down on a grin. That was exactly what he’d been doing. Hey, it had worked for Harley the shelter mutt back in the day, when his family had ridden out hurricanes on the Florida Panhandle. And it had worked for Gus, the dog he’d had to give up when he deployed the last time. He ignored the ache the Australian shepherd’s memory brought. He always lost the things he loved. Life somehow seemed to work that way. “Are you sure you’re not hurt? What was in your backpack?”

      “My laptop.” She gave him a weak smile. “He’s in for a surprise. The battery’s dead and the charger’s at my apartment.”

      Casey was as sarcastic as she’d ever been, a quality she tended to amp to a thousand under stress. He’d encountered the trait more than once when her best friend was under the gun in February. “Bad day for him, huh?”

      “For sure.” She dipped her chin and stared at the pavement between her feet, growing serious. “You know, if you hadn’t walked me out...”

      Travis glanced toward the sky, grateful for the nudge that had sent him after her. If something had happened to her while he licked his

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