Avenging Angel Read Online Free PDF Page A

the store. He made a slow turn at the other end of the lot and came back to park in front of the gas pump closest to the door of the store. He sat still for a minute, watching the clerk inside. The man was young, too young to know much about the kind of trouble Dylan was up to, and too young to know what to do even if he did figure it out. He was also in that gangly, awkward stage boys sometimes went through well into their twenties. Dylan figured he could take him without hurting him, if it came to that.
    “Come on. You’re going with me,” he said to the woman beside him. He opened his door and set one booted foot on the pavement. With effort, he got his other foot out and slowly rose to a standing position, supporting himself with the car door.
    She got out next to him, with a look on her face he immediately recognized. She was ready to bolt, looking for any chance to lose him.
    “Don’t even think it,” he said, angling the shotgun far enough away from his thigh for her to see it beneath his coat.
    Johanna looked quickly from the gun to his eyes. “You have a strange way of trying to save someone’s life,” she said, carefully keeping her voice devoid of expression.
    “I’ll be more accommodating later. Right now I’m desperate.” He drawled his words either from insolence or exhaustion. “Do you know how to pump gas?”
    What she didn’t know about the operation, he explained. She held the nozzle in the tank while he lounged against the car as if he didn’t have the strength to stand up—a condition he proved when she was finished pumping the gas.
    “Come here,” he said when she had turned off the pump.
    She thought they were close enough and was about to tell him so when he spoke again.
    “Come here.” His tone was deep and dark, definitely on the edge again.
    Still, she hesitated.
    He leveled the gun at her. “ Come here .”
    She stepped closer, vowing he would pay dearly for every crime he committed against her. When she was next to him, he slid his right arm around her shoulders and rested the bulk of his weight against her. Her arm automatically circled his waist to keep them both from falling over, and a plan instantly formed in her mind.
    The man was on the verge of collapse. All she had to do was wait for him to pass out, then make her escape. She could just walk away, get to the nearest police station, and the nightmare would be over. His body was trembling with the effort it took to walk into the store. His shirt and pants were damp with sweat. He felt hot and sticky. Lord, he felt like he was dying in her arms, and she was grateful.
    She held him as they stumbled and limped down the aisles of the store, cleaning out the first-aid counter, buying prepared sandwiches, milk, juice, sport drink, the store’s meager supply of fruit, instant coffee, and a sewing kit. In the personal-hygiene aisle, he asked her what she needed.
    “That depends on how long you plan to hold me hostage,” she told him with icy condemnation. He met her gaze, unflinching. “One week.”
    “Then what?”
    He pushed her forward. “Get what you need.”
    She literally had her hands full keeping him upright and retrieving the items he ordered her to put in their basket. She tried releasing her hold on him a couple of times in hopes he’d fall to the floor, maybe even unconscious, but each time he tightened his hold on her and pushed her onward.
    In the candy aisle, he came to a stop. “Go ahead and get something.”
    She looked at him, confused. “Like what?”
    At least a dozen different confections were within easy reach. She didn’t know if he wanted them all, or just a selection.
    “I don’t know,” he said, with a brief, pained grimace. “Whatever you want. Something chocolate. You like chocolate.”
    “You don’t know anything about what I like,” she informed him coolly.
    He actually grinned at that, an expression barely discernible from his grimace except for the teasing glint in his eyes. “I