Last Chance To Run Read Online Free Page B

a jock, maybe a linebacker. 
    Those warm eyes patiently waiting for an answer didn’t look crazy.
    Short black hair had been cut and styled with careless abandon that pulled off sexy without trying. His face was carved of sharp lines from the narrow nose to his square jaw. Not a soft place anywhere except those thick black eyelashes that would be too pretty on a less rugged male. 
    Words flew around her mind when she looked at him.
    Daring. Powerful. Rogue.
    Maybe Indy Jones did exist.
    Constantly monitoring all those gauges and lights in the cockpit, he reached past his seat and snatched up a second pair of headphones that he handed her.
    As she slipped them on, she heard him say, “Now we can talk without yelling and I can monitor the radio. What’s your name?”
    “Angel.”  That’s all anyone needed to know. Angelina Farentino had been many things – a star athlete, a courier, a convict. But Angel was the woman inside who wanted a new life with new dreams and no prison record.   
    “Zane Black, at your service.”   His firm lips widened in a devilish grin.
    That smile could melt an iceberg.
    She finally remembered her manners. “Thank you for ... what you did.” For that she got a dismissive nod as if he rescued women every day. Maybe he did.
    He seemed to be waiting for her to volunteer information.
    Not going to happen . She searched for something to keep the topic about him. “Impressive take off.”
    Waving a hand in dismissal, he said, “That was nothing. Piece o’ cake.”
    This one almost certainly turned female heads regularly with those beautiful eyes and that devil-may-care smile, but she’d always found one thing more attractive in a man than all that – confidence – and Zane Black had it in spades.
    But what did she know?
    She’d found Mason attractive at first, too.
    Zane’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Impressive escape on your part. How far did you have to run?”
    “Not far.”
    The silence stretched between them, urging her to say more, but she knew better. She’d volunteered information once that had convicted her of a crime she never committed. She’d volunteered information a second time and was running for her life because of it.
    Time to stop being so blasted helpful.
    Zane’s curious gaze traveled down her damp T-shirt to her waist.
    She wrapped her arms across her middle. Poor attempt to hide the obvious bulge the coins created. She held her breath, expecting the inevitable questions.
    Why were those men chasing you?
    What did they want?
    And, of course, what did you do wrong?
    But, surprisingly, none of those came out of his mouth.
    Instead, he pulled a towel from a duffel bag behind his seat. “Here, why don’t you dry off? If you’re cold, I have a blanket in the back.”
    On the heels of being imprisoned and abused at the hands of Mason, this stranger’s consideration left her speechless until she remembered her brain needed to shake loose a response.
    “Thanks. I’m not cold, just a little tired.”  Her adrenaline rush had bled out, leaving aches, pains, and exhaustion in its wake. Only frayed nerves kept her from keeling over. “I’d love that coffee now.” 
    He poured some in a thick paper cup and handed it to her. His fingers brushed hers when she took the offering, catching her off guard at the sensation that wicked under her skin. She shifted on the metal box, angling her legs to get more comfortable, which might have been easier if every move didn’t send pain shafting through her body. 
    The sexy pilot lost his smile when he took in her legs once more and studied them with grim assessment. “We need to clean you up.”
    “I’m fine, really,” she protested mildly, not wanting to be touched. “Just a few scratches.”   Minor injuries from her run compared to Mason’s abuse.
    “You are a badass if that’s just a few scratches.”  He grinned, underscoring that he found her harrowing getaway impressive.
    She couldn’t recall the