Or for that matter, real charges. He had been a thief. John West had considerable influence in Dallas and could have pulled plenty of strings to see to it that Mac paid for what he’d done to his daughter.

But the night Mac had tossed Lily out of his apartment had been the last he’d seen of her until right now. He’d dumped her so she’d go to the Ivy League college she’d been accepted to and fulfill her destiny. He thought she’d become a lawyer or the head of her father’s business.

He never thought he’d run into her again in an alley in Chicago. Or that she’d pull a gun on him. Just looking at her now made his jeans tighten in ways they shouldn’t, broke his concentration in dangerous ways. She’d been bad news ten years ago and still was. Her eyes were still the brightest blue, and her hair, though shorter than it had been years ago, still shined like sable silk.

“Mac, turn around and put your hands on the seat of the bike,” she said again.

“And if I don’t?”

She paused for a second. “I’ll shoot you.”

His lips curled. “No you won’t.”

Apparently she realized he’d called her bluff. He took a step forward. Her eyes widened and she turned tail and ran, but Mac was on her before she was halfway across the lawn. He grabbed her and rolled onto his back, taking the impact onto himself and making sure Lily landed on top of him.

The artifact went flying over her head, landing with a crash and disintegrating into several tiny pieces.

From her position on top of him, Lily’s head shot up and she gasped.

“Look what you did!” She pushed off his chest and scrambled on her hands and knees toward the broken object.

Mac rose and calmly walked over to the container she hadn’t noticed had rolled out from the center of the object.

“The artifact is a fake,” he said. “This is what’s valuable.”

He held up the vial of green liquid contained within a thick plexiglass container. The contents were well protected, just like he knew they’d be.

Lily sat back and stared at it. “What’s that?”

“It’s a virus.”

She frowned. “A virus?”

“Yeah. Deadly virus. Like open-it-breathe-it-andeveryone- dies kind of virus.”

She cocked a brow. “Right. Does it come with little green aliens, too?”

“I’m dead serious here, Lily. No bullshit.”

She stared wide eyed at the vial for a few seconds, then back at him.

“It’s fluorescent green.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Hell if I know. I guess because it’s toxic.”

She visibly shuddered. “Jesus, Mac, what are you into?”

“I’m not into anything. It’s not mine.”

“Whatever it is, it belongs to the museum. Give it to me.”

“You’re not listening. It doesn’t belong to the museum.

You’ve been had. I don’t know who hired you or what you’re doing here, but the last thing you want is this vial.”

“Still thinking you know what’s best for me, I see.”

He was about to answer but she leaped forward, launching at his legs. Off balance, he went down like a falling tree. His back hit the ground, knocking the wind out of him.

Well, damn. He hadn’t expected that. Where did she learn those moves?

Lily climbed up his body and grabbed for the serum.

Goddamn, she was a wildcat. While still struggling for breath, Mac rolled her over and pinned her to the ground.

Now this was a familiar position. His c**k remembered it well, too. His mind screamed danger and get the hell out of there, but he wanted answers first.

Old feelings rushed to the surface as Lily felt Mac’s body against hers. Dammit. She might hate what he’d done to her ten years ago, but her body clearly remembered all the good things about being with him, especially how he made her feel. Restless, hot, wet and needy. And she felt it all right now, as well as really irritated that he’d just gotten the best of her.

“Get. Off. Me.”

“You sure are a lot tougher than you used to be,” he said, his breath warm against her cheek.

She inhaled deeply, but all that did was press her br**sts against the hard wall of his chest. So not helping.

“Please let me up, Mac. I can’t breathe.”

He stared at her for a few seconds and she was lost in the depth of his eyes. So easy for her to tumble back in time, remember the last moment they had been this close and he had been on top of her. Only they’d been na**d. And he’d been inside her. The flood of moisture between her legs annoyed her.

They were history, no matter what her body thought.

“Tell me what you’re doing here,” he said.

“Get off me first.”

With a sigh, he rose and held his hand out to her. She grasped it and started to pull up, but at the same moment a shot rang out, spraying up grass and dirt not more than inches from where they lay. Not a loud shot, either, but someone using a silencer. Mac fell on top of her again with a hard thud, pulled a gun and fired back in the vicinity of the assailant.

“Stay down!” he ordered her, covering her body.

Lily held her breath. Who was shooting at them? More importantly, where was her gun?

“Let me up, Mac!” Dammit! She’d been a cop. She knew how to fire a weapon. If he’d just move his big body off her, she could use it. She did a quick scan of the area, spotting her gun on the lawn just a foot or so out of her reach. But Mac was too heavy and she couldn’t throw him off. Now was not the time for chivalry. She could help.

Instead, he tucked his arm around her back and rolled with her behind a thick tree, then slammed her up against it, keeping her covered as another spray of bullets sent bark flying a few inches from her head.

Okay someone was pissing her off. She wanted her gun and now.

“Let me go!” she hollered.

“Stay still before you get hurt.”

She pushed at him, but he had better leverage and it was like trying to move the tree. He wouldn’t budge.

“Is it museum security?” she asked.

“No. No one in uniform. Someone dressed in black.”

Oh, hell. This wasn’t good. Who was shooting at them?

And where was security? Goddamn useless donut-eating morons! They were probably cowering under the lobby desk after they heard gunshots.

Mac shot off another round. “Do you see anyone else?”

She craned her head around him, searching both sides.

“No. Just the single shooter.”

Mac aimed, fired, then said, “I think I might have hit him. Let’s move!”

Before she could object, he grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet, dragging her along behind him. Bullets sprayed the dirt near their feet. No time to argue or grab for her gun along the way.

They tore down the alley toward his bike. “Get on!”

She didn’t even think this time, letting common sense prevail. She hopped on the back of his bike, wrapped her arms around him and held tight while he revved the engine and tore off down the alley, escaping the barrage of bullets as if the hounds of hell were chasing them.

Lily was afraid maybe they were. She didn’t exhale the entire time Mac wound them around side streets and clear out of the city limits. They rode for hours, Lily’s mind whirling the entire time. She didn’t speak and neither did Mac. Her body was too frozen with shock to move or talk or notice where they were headed. Not until they were well out of town and she realized they were in some remote location. Since no bullets had whizzed by her ears, she assumed they weren’t being followed, but she wasn’t about to off-balance the bike by shifting around to look.

There were no street lights and the road had changed to two lanes. The trees were taller and more dense and the temperature had dropped, making her shiver from the chill.

They’d moved from city to country, the smell of pine and clean air much more evident than in a smog choked city.

After what seemed like hours of riding, evidenced by her rather numb tender parts, Mac finally turned onto a dirt road and into what appeared to be a deserted campsite. She hoped he knew where he was going, because she was hopelessly lost. When he pulled over, Lily resisted the urge to whoop for joy. He turned off the engine and waited for her to slip off the bike. He followed after her while she bent over to stretch her tight muscles. He pulled a bottle of water out of a saddlebag and took a long swallow, then tossed it her way.

She drank greedily, soothing her parched throat. And she finally exhaled.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes. Who was shooting at us back at the museum?”

she asked.

“I have no idea. I thought maybe you would.”

She shrugged. “No clue.” But now that she had her wits about her again, she gave him a scathing look. “Are you out of your mind? Did you feel it necessary to play hero back there?

We could have both been killed.”

He stared at her, not even moving while she advanced on him. And he didn’t say a word. Fine then, she had plenty to say. “For your information, I spent three years on the police force before leaving to become a private investigator. I know how to handle a gun. The one you knocked out of my reach. I could have helped. But, oh no. You had to throw yourself on top of me like some freakin’ superhero and prevent me from grabbing my gun.”

“You were a cop?” His eyes widened.

“That’s not what we’re talking about. We’re discussing your macho show of over protectiveness back there.”

“I was trying to prevent you from being shot.”

“I didn’t need your help.”

Ignoring her outburst, he unzipped his jacket and slowly started peeling it off his shoulders, as if he wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to her.

“Are you listening to me at all, Mac? Are you hearing what I’m saying? I am competent, goddamit. I am not some air headed idiot who needed protecting. And where’s the vial?”

Once he had the jacket off, she zeroed in on the dark stain on his arm and a river of blood pouring off the ends of his fingers. Any anger she felt dissipated in a rush of panic and concern.

“Oh. shit. You were shot?” She rushed over and began to pull up his shirt.

“I’m fine,” he said, but he didn’t try to stop her.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Bullet just grazed me.”

Her gaze rocketed to his. “Oh, and you’re some kind of psychic doctor, I suppose. How do you know?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been shot a few times. I know.”

She shuddered at the thought. “Spare me the details.

Let’s get this shirt off.” She drew the shirt over his head, then peeled it gently away from his shoulder, taking special care when she pulled the fabric down his injured arm.

“We need more light.” She looked around the campground, spotting a grey brick building with a single overhead light a short distance away. Bathroom. “Have you got a first aid kit in the bike?”

“Yeah. Left saddlebag.”

She hurried over and fumbled through the bag, found the first aid kit and a flashlight, then pushed him toward the bathroom. The light switch revealed a dim bulb hanging from the ceiling. Thankfully there was a wink and paper towels in there.

“Sit,” she ordered, pointing him toward the wooden bench next to the shower.

“Bossy,” he teased, grinning up at her.

Ignoring him, she wet some paper towels, turned on the flashlight and placed it on the edge of the sink so it was pointing toward his arm. She cleaned the wound, wiping away the blood so she could get a look at the injury.

Like he said, it was a graze. Mean looking and about three inches long, but not deep enough to need stitches. He was lucky the bullet had barely scraped the flesh of his arm. She cleaned it, applied pressure until the bleeding stopped and after spreading some antibacterial ointment on it, placed a bandage over the wound.

The hot rush of adrenaline she’d felt after she’d seen the blood dripping down his arm calmed somewhat. She was surprised at the fear she’d felt seeing him bleeding like that, having long ago convinced herself she was immune to ever having feelings for Mac Canfield again. She should have known better than to think he would ever mean less to her. She sighed.

“You’re going to be fine,” she said, pushing her emotions deep as she cleaned everything up and turned to him.

“I could have told you that.” He stood. “But thank you anyway.”

“You’re welcome.”

Mac couldn’t believe the woman standing in front of him. The one who’d faced down a barrage of bullets, hopped on the back of his bike for a quick escape, then yelled at him because he’d prevented her from diving for her own gun.

She sure as hell wasn’t the same Lily West he’d known so many years ago. That girl had been sweet and gentle and fragile. The woman who stood in front of him now looked similar, though obviously more grown up. And a hell of a lot tougher. Curvier too, with low slung jeans hugging her hips, a snug-fitting polo shirt that accentuated fuller br**sts and a slender waist. But what was completely unrecognizable was her attitude.

She stared at him, not speaking. Hell, he didn’t know what to say. She licked her lips and he followed the track of her little pink tongue swiping across her full bottom lip.

His gaze went from her mouth to her eyes and the past mingled with the present.

God, she really was here. He moved toward her and she took a step back, stopping when she hit the wall. But her gaze never left his. Even in the darkened bathroom the look she gave him was unmistakable. She was thinking the same thing he was.