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usually the opposite; she didn’t tell
anyone
about
anything
if she could help it.
    She said nothing, letting him work it out for himself, and he must have because then he said, “That’s why you skipped bail.” Again, not a question.
    “One hundred points to the douchebag in the front of the truck,” she murmured.
    The hum of the engine was vaguely calming, the gentle movement as Zane drove lulling her. He had the air-con on, but it wasn’t too cold, and she could feel a beam of sunshine lying warmly over her face.
    God, she was tired.
    “What happened?” Another harsh order. “Why the hell were you running drugs for the cartels?”
    But she didn’t want to answer him. Didn’t want to talk about Jamie or what she’d done to lose her. Didn’t want to talk about how the hell she was going to get her back. What she really wanted to do was sleep.
    “I’ll tell you,” she muttered. “Just give me five minutes.”
    Five minutes later she was asleep.
    —
    She was asleep. Jesus Christ. The damn woman had tried to escape through a bathroom window, attempted to kick him in the balls, been cuffed and shot at, and now she was fast asleep.
    No wonder she was tired.
    Zane took another glance at her in the rearview mirror.
    Her head was turned to the side and she was half slumped down the back of the seat. It looked like a hideously uncomfortable position and yet she seemed to be sleeping like a baby. Her ponytail had come out, black hair tumbling all over her narrow, delicately pointed face. God, she looked young. What the hell was someone so young doing running drugs for the southern cartels?
    Why the hell are you so interested?
    Zane scowled and pulled his gaze back to the road.
    There was a reason he was interested. A very good reason. He didn’t like being nearly killed on what was supposed to be a standard pickup, and he wanted to know what the fuck was going on. That she was being pursued by her former bosses wasn’t a big surprise, all things considered, but he would have appreciated a heads-up from Quinn at the very least.
    Well, he could chew that bastard out later. Right now, he needed to get her back to Lone Star in one piece and preferably himself too.
    He glanced in the mirror again, because apparently the fact that he needed to keep a massive truck from crashing into other cars wasn’t enough to keep his attention on the road. Not when he had a feral little bail-jumper in the back.
    A feral little bail-jumper with the prettiest tits he’d ever seen.
    Not that he should be looking at them, considering he’d come to take her back into custody and that she’d been running drugs, which made her scum of the lowest sort. Not to mention the fact that she had a smart mouth.
    A gorgeous mouth.
    Shit.
    Jerking his eyes back to the road, Zane gripped tight to the wheel, trying to ignore the woman in the back. Except he couldn’t get out of his head the sight of her pale skin and lacy red bra.
    And the scratch down the middle of her stomach.
    This time when he flicked her another glance, he kept his gaze firmly on the red streak where the window latch had caught her, and, sure enough, it was oozing blood and looking painful. The blood had even started to stain the waistband of her jeans.
    A pathetic sight. She was bleeding, her T-shirt torn open, her hands cuffed behind her back, her hair falling everywhere.
    Vulnerable…
    His breath hitched. He’d always had a weakness for vulnerable women, but that was how all the shit had gone down with Charlie, and he couldn’t let himself get involved in something like that again, he just couldn’t. Which meant he should be heading straight on down the highway until they got to Lone Star where he could then get rid of her and never think of her again.
    Then again, Quinn would be extremely pissed if she got blood in his truck.
    Tell yourself it’s about Quinn, sure.
    Bullshit. He wasn’t telling himself anything. He didn’t want her getting blood on him either, which