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Divine Intervention
by Trista Ann Michaels

Category: Erotica/Erotic Romance/Romance
Description: As head of Senator Prescott's security detail, Walker had kept an eye on the Senator's daughter, Heather, since she was twelve. When she turned eighteen, his feelings for her became way too inappropriate, so he put another team in charge of her and focused more on the Senator, but his thoughts were never too far away from Heather. Now she's twenty-four and the target of the men her father is trying to expose. Walker is once again put in charge of her protection. Unfortunately, Walker's attraction to her hasn't lessened and Heather knows it. Heather has been in love with Walker since she was a teenager, so she sees this joined-at-the-hip thing as the perfect opportunity to get him to see her as something other than his job and the child she used to be. She knew he wanted her, it was just a matter of time before he gave in. The men after her may put a kink in her seduction plans but with a little divine intervention, they may just survive the flying bullets.
eBook Publisher: Atlantic Bridge/Liquid Silver Books, 2010
eBookwise Release Date: September 2010

eBookeBook

60 Reader Ratings:
Great Good OK Poor
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [182 KB]
Words: 42033
Reading time: 120-168 min.


Prologue

"This is just too freakin' easy," Heather Prescott murmured to herself.

She smiled with wicked amusement from her hiding spot as she watched her newly assigned security team swing back and forth through the crowded mall like bloodhounds that had lost the scent. It was the third time this month Heather had lost the security guys assigned to her.

Who did Scott think he was dealing with? She'd been trained by the best security man in the business, Walker Moore. He was head of her father's security team as well as his business partner in one of the world's most elaborate and high tech security firms. She'd cut her teeth on outwitting that man.

Heather turned to leave the mall before they spotted their prey and her one chance at freedom would be shot to hell. She grabbed her keys from her purse and jogged across the parking lot as fast as her three-inch Jimmy Choos would allow. Okay, maybe the shoes had been a bad choice, but if she'd worn sneakers, her team would have been suspicious. She hardly ever wore sneakers. Matter of fact, the last pair she'd bought four months ago were still in the box unopened.

With a sigh of utter contentment, Heather climbed into her tiny BMW convertible and put the key in the ignition. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one had followed her or thought to check the parking lot. Knowing those halfwits, they were still searching the halls, not once thinking she might have actually left the building.

You'd think after three times this month, they would have figured it out by now. With a flip of a switch, the canvas top slid open with a soft roar and she smiled up at a beautiful, clear blue sky.

She adjusted her sunglasses before putting the car in gear and quickly speeding out of the crowded parking lot and onto the main highway. She turned up the radio so she could hear the music over the rush of the wind. Nickelback blared loudly through the speakers and she laughed, throwing her hands briefly to the sky with a squeal. She loved driving with the top down, but her security team usually forbid it. Too dangerous, they would argue.

She scrunched her nose. Sometimes ... no scratch that ... most of the time, she hated being Senator Prescott's daughter. She loved her dad, she really did, but this public life was not for her. She hated it with a passion. She had no privacy, no freedom. Every move she made was scrutinized.

"Don't do that, it makes you look trashy."

"Don't wear that, it makes you look inappropriate."

"Don't say that, you might ruin your father's chances at reelection."

Heather rolled her eyes. The only bright spot to going home anymore was Walker.

Glancing in her rearview mirror, she noticed the same Chevy Explorer she'd seen when she'd left the parking lot. She frowned, suddenly becoming a little nervous. Walker had taught her to watch her back, to always check behind her and she did it now religiously.

Wondering if the car was following her, she took a quick right onto another four-lane road. He turned right as well and her hands tightened around the steering wheel in alarm.

"It's probably nothing," she chided, keeping an eye on the vehicle.

He kept a good distance, never increasing his speed or slowing down. She moved to the left lane to circle around a large eighteen-wheeler. The SUV did the same and she scowled. Up ahead was an exit. She sped up, veered in front of the semi, took the exit, then made a left onto a two-lane highway heading south toward Richmond.

So did the SUV.

"Shoot," she sighed as she adjusted her seat, sitting up straighter. "This isn't good. Daddy's going to kill me. That is if there's anything left once Walker gets done with me."

She glanced around, wondering where to go next, then realized her mistake. They'd left the city and the scenery was becoming much more rural, the houses much further apart. What the hell had she been thinking? She knew better than to do this.

"Okay, okay," she said to herself. "Don't panic. Think. What would Walker do?"

She needed to get back to the city, crowded roads and lots of public eyes ... fast. The SUV increased its speed, coming up fast in her rearview mirror. There was no one else on the road. She was completely alone and the fear suddenly gripping her chest made her want to hurl.

She pressed on the gas, making her convertible BMW's engine rev. The SUV behind her had a more powerful engine and overtook her quickly--a little too quickly. He tapped at the rear of her car with his chrome grill, forcing her car forward with a jerk. She gasped, moving her hands to the ten and two position on the wheel and holding tight.

What the hell should she do?

She glanced in her mirror again and an idea came to her. She braced herself, slamming hard on the brakes. She gasped as her car's rear end fishtailed slightly but she held the wheel steady, as well as her breath, as the SUV zipped past her on the right-hand shoulder to avoid hitting her.

Turning the wheel hard, she swerved into a gravel drive, then back onto the road, doing a complete one-eighty just like she'd been taught. The back tires sent gravel and dust flying as she returned to the concrete highway. Behind her, the SUV was much slower to turn, giving her several precious minutes to hopefully outrun him.

Walker had always warned her this could happen. She knew her father was constantly investigating criminals, both blue collar and white. He had a reputation for going after the bad guys both in and out of Washington. Walker had been worried someone would try to get to him through her, hence the ever-present and overprotective security detail. Why the hell hadn't she listened?

She reached forward and pressed the OnStar button. A voice broke through and said, "This is OnStar. How may I help you, Ms. Prescott?"

"Scott Wilmington's cell, please."

Scott was over her security detail. He'd be pissed as hell, but maybe he could help her out somehow. The SUV was quickly gaining ground, its silver grill coming up fast in her mirror.

"Damn son of a bitch," she yelled. "What the hell do you want?"

Scott answered after the second ring, "Heather, this had better fucking be you."

"Scott, I'm in trouble!" she yelled over the wind.

She squealed as the SUV bumped her car. Sweat made her palms slide along the wheel as she tried to get a better grip. Her heart raced wildly as she glanced at the speedometer in surprise. Eighty?

"What do you mean you're in trouble? Where are you?"

"I don't know; some two lane highway. I was headed home when... Oh, shit, shit." She braced for another hard tap of the SUV's grill.

"Heather!" he snapped.

"Some idiot in a black SUV is trying to run me off the road," she snapped. "I can't get away from him."

"Outrun him."

"Oh, yeah," she snarled sarcastically. "Like my little six cylinder is going to outrun a SUV with a damn Hemi engine!"

The Explorer came around to her left and she swallowed hard against the desire to scream. She could try the brake thing again, get behind him.

"Scott," she squealed, her fear showing in her shaky voice. "He's gonna knock me off the road."

"What road are you on?"

The front end of the Explorer smacked the side of her car, just behind the driver's door. He pushed her to the right, but she swerved back, hitting his passenger door. The whole idea of fighting back in her tiny little car was ludicrous. It was like a Chihuahua trying to fight off a Doberman.

The trembling in her hands made it hard to keep the wheel straight, but she refused to give in to panic. She could do this.

"Heather," Scott yelled.

She'd forgotten about him. "I'm still here," she said as she braced for another hit from the SUV. "At least for now."

Groaning, she held the wheel straight, fighting the car's desire to go to the right. She shook her head, realizing she was going to lose this one. The SUV jerked to the right, clipping her hard at the front wheel. She swerved, losing control and skidding off the road and into the woods. A tree hurtled toward her, and locking her arms on the wheel, she braced for the impact.

Metal screamed, glass shattered, her head hit the wheel. The airbag exploded, burning the inside of her arms. Her car shuddered, then died. Smoke drifted around her nose and she coughed, squinting against her blurring vision and the blinding pain in her forehead.

Blood trickled down her face and into her eyes but she couldn't seem to raise her arm to wipe it away. The SUV had turned around and sat just a few yards away idling on the side of the road. It just sat there, as though waiting. Her heart fluttered like a captured bird. If he wanted to finish her off, she didn't have the strength to fight him.

"Heather!" she heard Scott yell.

"Ms. Prescott," the OnStar voice came through the car speakers, effectively cutting off Scott. "I received a signal your airbags have deployed. Do you need assistance?"

"Yes," she whispered, barely able to speak as darkness closed in.

"Ms. Prescott, if you can hear me, help is on the way to your GPS location."

The SUV drove away and she breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Tell Walker I'm sorry," she whispered, then everything went black.


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