Into the Lair - Falcon Mercenary Group #2 - Maya Banks Page 0,2

make several more withdrawals before she’d have enough money to fund her getaway. In the meantime, she had no choice but to get the hell out of town, no matter how dire her finances.

The evening air chilled her sweat-dampened skin, and she shivered. She’d been stupid to drop her pack, but then escaping the two men would have been more difficult carrying it. Warmer clothes would have to wait until she’d cleared town.

She took off down the street, weighing her options. The bus station was too obvious. Airport even more so. Hitchhiking, though something she’d done in the past, gave her too much exposure, not to mention it was dangerous as hell.

A resigned sigh escaped her. Walking it was. She was in shape, thanks to rigorous workouts and training sessions. But fitness didn’t help with the cold. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t walked all damn day already.

Though heading west held certain appeal, she’d be better off going east, to some large city she could disappear in. Small towns made her too noticeable.

Some place warm. Florida sounded heavenly. But it left her too boxed in. Not enough escape options. Atlanta maybe? Anything beat the cold of Missouri.

St. Louis had seemed like a good idea when she’d arrived. How had they found her? She’d been so careful. Or so she’d thought.

She picked up her pace. A cab could take her out of the city. It would cripple her monetarily, but it would be worth it. She could pick up some light camping equipment and parallel the interstate south to Cape Girardeau. It would take her several days, but it would give her time to hit ATMs and build her cash flow. From Cape, she could buy a cheap vehicle and drive wherever she wanted to go.

Bolstered by her plan, she crossed a busy intersection and started looking for an available cab. Clutching her arms with her hands, she rubbed up and down to infuse much-needed warmth.

Note to self: Don’t relax your guard. Ever.

It was appropriate that at the moment she administered the reprimand, a man stepped in front of her, his hands flying out to grip her shoulders.

She lashed out with her foot and kicked him squarely in the balls. A harsh curse split her ears as he doubled over. She didn’t waste any time. Turning around, she launched into a full run.

Only to collide with a heavily muscled wall of male flesh. Steel bands wrapped around her none too gently. She reacted violently, kicking and flailing, but he didn’t loosen his hold.

Her eyes met his and she found fire. Angry determination glittered in his green eyes. Bracing herself, she reared back and rammed her head into his nose. Pain exploded through her skull, and her vision blurred.

To her dismay, he didn’t budge. If anything he crushed her tighter against him, and she whimpered in pain.

“I’ve had about all I can take from you,” he bit out.

She struggled harder as she fought the dizzying effects of her head-butt. She managed to wiggle enough to bring her knee up between his legs.

Fingers dug into her knee, squeezing until she yelped.

“You give me no choice, sweetheart,” he said grimly.

Before she had time to try and figure out that cryptic remark, she felt a prick against her shoulder. She went rigid in his arms, and fear hissed through her veins. Oh God, no. He’d drugged her.

His face swam in her vision, and she went slack against him. And then she heard another voice, close to her ear.

“We won’t hurt you, Katie. We’re here to help you.”

Her eyelids fluttered, and no matter how she fought the drug, it was too much. Everything went dark.

Chapter Three

Ian frowned as he stared down at Katie Buchanan. She lay on the seat, her body curled into a defensive posture even in sleep. Strain lined her forehead, and a frown tugged her lips downward. He reached down to touch the short blond wisps that lay raggedly on her neck. Then before giving it any thought, his finger traveled over her jaw to her lips where he smoothed the downward curve.

Her hair was an interesting assortment of lengths, like she cut it herself with no regard for appearance. The strands stuck out, each going a different direction, but on her it fit. She didn’t strike him as the sleek, always-styled type at all.

Hearing Braden behind him, he yanked his hand away and frowned in annoyance. His head ached like a mother, his eyes were crossing with fatigue, and yet he was