His Captivating Confidante (Secret Sentinels) by Lisa Weaver

ignored it. Instead he headed directly for the concrete barrier blocking the road they were traveling.
    A scant opening between the barrier and the roadside ditch appeared wide enough for his bike to clear. He hoped it was, because it was the only plan he had for extracting Stephanie from the danger their pursuer posed.
    The tiny gap was white-knuckle tight, but he squeezed through. The man behind the wheel of the Escalade slammed on his brakes with only seconds to spare, unable to follow.
    Dialing back his speed along the barricaded construction route, Frank took the first paved route they came to. When they reached the main drive there was no sign of the other vehicle. He resumed his earlier speed and kept it up until they arrived back at Stephanie’s home.
    As soon as he killed the engine, Stephanie dismounted. She took her helmet off, setting her hair spilling free. Its fiery length mirrored the sparks of anger flashing in her eyes.
    “What was that idiot trying to do?” she fumed.
    She was shaking in fury or in shock—he wasn’t sure which. Perhaps it was both.
    He knew he should resist the temptation to draw her into his arms, but the urge to comfort her was too strong to ignore. “Hey. It’s okay,” he assured her. “It was just some lunatic having a bad night.”
    “It seemed more like he was trying to kill us to me,” she countered vehemently.
    “I’d never let that happen,” he assured her. “There’s no way I’d never let anyone hurt you, Kitten.”
    He’d sooner die than let any harm come to her.
    ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
    Taking a moment to regroup in the shelter of Frank’s reassuring embrace, Stephanie realized Liz’s concern that he’d become a target had just been proven, beyond a shadow of a doubt.
    After that soul-shattering kiss on the beach, she’d been prepared to renege on her deal to let him accompany her to Landers’s island. But given the near miss with the Escalade she couldn’t, in good conscience, walk away. He needed her—whether he knew it or not.
    She could stay wrapped in his embrace like this forever, but she wanted answers and she couldn’t formulate sensible questions while she was this close to him.
    As badly as she’d like to attribute her racing heartbeat and sudden oxygen deprivation to the adrenaline rush from their close call, she knew her symptoms could only be attributed to her feelings for Frank.
    Boy, was she ever in deep .
    Stepping out of his arms, she determinedly met his gaze. “So are you going to tell me the truth about what’s going on, or do we have to have another close call or two before you finally come clean about whatever it is you’ve gotten messed up in?”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Don’t insult my intelligence, Frank. Last night you suspected your penthouse had been broken into. Tonight a stranger followed us on the beach. And there’s no way you’re going to convince me that incident just now was nothing more than a super-size case of road rage.”
    “You’ve been watching too many spy movies,” he sighed.
    She shook her head in exasperation. “No, but I did just watch a driver try and run us off the road. The question is: why? I know there’s something you aren’t telling me. What are you hiding?”
    “I’m not hiding anything. If—and that’s a big if—the events are somehow connected, they probably have something to do with all the poking around the Sentinels team has been doing trying to connect Lawrence Mendacci to the attacks on Rafe and Brianna.”
    She arched an eyebrow, pinning him with a look that made it clear she wasn’t buying his explanation.
    “You have to admit it makes sense,” he continued. “Considering Mendacci’s reputed ties to the mob, it’s not too far-fetched a possibility that our no-holds-barred investigation into his activities might have gotten his attention.”
    “Nice theory, but that’s not what’s going on here,” she refuted stubbornly. “Mendacci is