Free Intrusion by Cynthia Justlin Page A

hesitate to eliminate her too? Damn it, it was his fault she was running around in the streets. He should’ve stopped jerking her chain and showed her he could be trusted.
    He took the corner into the kitchen at a fast clip. His feet skidded against the kitchen tile and plowed into an overturned cart. Letters were scattered across the floor and his gaze snagged on an envelope bearing a local cellular company’s logo. He snatched it off the floor and shoved it in his pocket.
    He dashed out the back door, ducked past the gate and dove into the open window of the truck, twisting the key into the ignition. The engine spluttered, coughed, then finally started. He rammed the gearshift into drive and stomped on the gas. The truck lurched forward several inches and died.
    Shit.
    Cam threw the truck back in park, wrenched the ignition on, and waited. Splutter, cough, catch. He revved the stubborn motor, announcing his position as clear as if he’d stood on top of the damn truck and waved his arms.
    Two cops spilled out the back door of Audra’s house and headed straight for him. Pedal to the floor, he yanked the truck into drive. His hands slipped on the steering wheel. The back tires squealed against the pavement making the truck fishtail. He dug his fingers deeper into the worn leather and the truck shot down the alley.
    Perspiration crawled across his brow and dampened his armpits. He jerked the wheel, turning onto first one residential street and then another until his heart rate slowed and he’d left Audra’s house far behind him.
    Cam flicked the pickup’s blinker on and turned into a crowded movie theater parking lot. He glided into an empty space near the rear, shut off the engine and jumped out. The smell of panic clung to his damp shirt and he stripped it off, tossing it into the bed of the truck.
    He grabbed his duffel and laptop bag from the bed and slung them over his shoulder. Without a backward glance, he started walking, his mind already reeling with possibilities as to Audra’s whereabouts.
    She may not have believed she could trust him, but she’d have to go to someone, somewhere, for help. If he wanted to find her, all he needed to do was locate the one person she thought she could trust with her life.

    ***

    Jonathan had agreed to help her.
    Audra paced in front of the Circle K’s pay phone, the taste of gasoline and exhaust fumes filling her mouth. Okay, so he hadn’t specifically said he’d help, but he had agreed to come and get her. Once she had the chance to convince him she wanted to do the right thing, he’d support her. With an advocate from the Department of Defense to plead her innocence to the feds, they’d take her seriously and start a broader investigation of the theft. Wouldn’t they?
    God, she hoped so.
    She leaned against the wall to wait, tugging her hat down over her ears to get her mind off the guilt that gnawed at her. What about Cam? Was he able get out of her house before the police caught up to him? His face flitted through her mind, the way his eyes had gone from hard steel to soft wool when she'd picked up the broken picture of her mother.
    Had she made a mistake in not trusting him?
    A mistake? In not trusting a man who was a fugitive from the law, just like her? He needed to clear his name every bit as much as she. What would stop him from leaving her high and dry once he found enough evidence to vindicate himself? Hers was the harder case to prove, after all.
    No, she couldn't leave her fate in his hands. She’d done the right thing by going to Jonathan. He had the influence she needed. Cam did not.
    A silver Mercedes Benz ML350 with tinted windows pulled into the parking lot and slowed to a stop in front of her. She hurried forward and reached for the door.
    Jonathan pushed it open. “Get in. Quickly.”
    She slid into the seat and breathed in the scent of tanned leather and citrus air freshener.
    “Your face is being plastered across every news channel.” Jonathan