The Protected

SEVENTEEN

JONES had told her he’d leave a car in the garage.

He’d also told her that if she didn’t remove herself from the premises in a very short amount of time, he’d be unleashing holy hell.

She suspected that meant he’d be putting his people on Gus’s very fine ass in an attempt to bring him in.

All things that wouldn’t go well. If he’d decided Gus was a person of interest, he’d put his best people on it and it wouldn’t end until there was bloodshed. Probably lots of it. And she didn’t know what it would take to stop Gus.

It would take a hell of a lot, she thought.

Or maybe just a bullet. That was one fact she was almost painfully aware of as they moved through the parking garage. She noticed the placement of the cameras, watched as they moved back and forth. They wouldn’t catch everything, she didn’t think. A few blind spots, just at the end of the aisle, and right . . .

Shit. That spot right ahead of them. Her skin prickled and she tugged on Gus’s arm, bringing him down to a snail’s pace.

There was a funny way of talking in a garage. You can say something and the words would go nowhere. And then you could whisper something, and it almost echoed.

She waited until she heard nothing.

She didn’t hear the doors close.

She didn’t hear footsteps.

But she knew they weren’t alone. It wasn’t even a prickle of awareness on her skin. It was just instinct. And as they walked, she said in a low voice, “We need to hurry. He’s keeping the boy at the safe house, but we’ve only got so much time to get there or he’s just going to take him in. If he goes into custody, it will be hell trying to get him out.”

“They can’t just take my kid away,” Gus said. He looked over at her and she saw the knowledge glint in his eyes. And she was also painfully aware of something else. As he moved, he shifted his body, placing it behind hers.

Not cool, that.

How could he go after his brother-in-law if he was taking a bullet?

She didn’t know the answer to that. She didn’t care. What she did know was that they needed to be in the car Jones had left. Just around the corner—that next blind spot.

Both she and Gus hit the ground at the same time and she groaned as her sore muscles screamed out at her. She rolled and jerked her Glock up, aiming it in the face of the man.

He just smiled and held out a hand to the woman with him.

The weight that slammed into Vaughnne’s arms was so heavy, she thought an elephant had dropped down on them.

Gus swung out with his legs and the two psychics went crashing down, but that wasn’t going to last for long.

Vaughnne rolled to her feet, an order forming in her mouth. But the words died before she could really even give voice to them. Somehow Gus had arrowed in on the one who was the biggest danger. Silver flashed through the air, flying toward the woman. The subclasses were often misjudged by a lot of the psychics Vaughnne had worked with. But anybody who could suppress or boost her gift was a problem in her mind.

The subclass was no longer a problem. For a moment, she stared at the blade buried in her chest and then looked up, an expression of blank astonishment on her face. Clumsily, she reached for it, but her aim was off and she toppled over to the side before she even made contact. A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth.

“Anton,” the woman whispered, and the word was faint, almost like a ghost had whispered it.

That soft, broken sound shattered the other psychic’s stillness and he turned, lunging himself at Gus.

Gus shot him between the eyes and the odd, muffled pop of the silencer seemed even more disturbing than the woman’s dying whisper.

Swallowing the bitter, nasty taste of bile rising up in her throat, Vaughnne looked at the woman. There was a chance she might not die if she got help now. A faint chance.

Crossing to her, she eyed the woman narrowly. “Do you know it’s an innocent boy you’re trying to kidnap?”

Lashes flickered over the woman’s eyes. Dull confusion shone back at Vaughnne. “It’s a job. Money . . .” She shuddered.

Turning her back, she looked at Gus. “Get your knife.”

As he did that, she checked the cameras again. They should still be in the blind zone, but damn it. This was getting dicey already and they were still in the damned garage. Grabbing the man’s ankles, she hauled him between two of the cars. She hadn’t even straightened from his body when Gus dumped the woman on top of him.

“You would have tried to help her if she had answered the right way, wouldn’t you?” he asked softly, his pale eyes unreadable.

She stared at him. “I don’t entirely know what the right way is.” Then she turned her back to him and made her way around the front of the car. He could stand there and glare at her or he could follow.

Security could show up at any second. So could any number of visitors, and for all she knew, these two had partners somewhere. They needed to get out of the hospital before bystanders got hurt. She had no problem compromising herself or crossing her own lines to go after a monster, but letting innocent people get hurt was a line she couldn’t and wouldn’t cross.

She didn’t bother to look backward. Gus was behind her before she’d even gone five feet.

But if she thought the discussion was over, she was so very, very wrong.

BORROWED time. Esteban was now operating on borrowed time and he knew it. The men he’d sent after Alejandro had failed. The first pair . . . well, he’d allow himself the one mistake.

But then there had been nothing but more mistakes.

Every which way he turned, he was outsmarted or outmaneuvered and now he had it confirmed that the boy’s uncle was no longer operating alone. A woman had been seen with him.

He didn’t know who she was, but this changed things.

Matters were even worse than he liked to think. Too many knew how badly things were going.

He’d updated the profile on the site with a vague reference that hopefully people would realize was an increase in the reward.

One of them had outright said, And what good is that if I end up drooling down my hospital gown?

They knew what had happened in Orlando. Somehow they knew.

He no longer wondered just how many of them were legit.

Too many of them were very skilled. Too many knew exactly how badly things were going and it seemed the wiser ones were pulling back.

Options were becoming too limited for him now.

The boss had already called him home. He was driving in that direction. Driving. Not flying. Señor Reyes would expect him to fly, but the señor could fuck himself. Of course, he didn’t want to appear like he wasn’t following orders. But he wanted to think his options through. One last time.

He could run, of course.

There had always been that option, but if he ran, and if he was caught . . .

His gut twisted and his bowels felt watery even thinking about it, but he still had to consider running. It wasn’t an option that left him filled with happy, pleasant thoughts.

The other option . . . just thinking about it made him feel better. Peaceful. That decided him. Mind made up, he turned off the interstate. It only took a few hours to reach the spot he had in mind. He ignored a call from the señor and had a moment of terror when he thought he’d spotted a car that appeared to be following him. But it hadn’t been. Thankfully.

Up ahead, the road branched and he hit the turn signal, pressing down on the brake as a bunch of guys on motorcycles roared around him. The thick, dark green of the cypress trees seemed to surround him. It was pretty here. So very green. He’d always enjoyed this area. Hot and humid, but that was Louisiana.

Taking the keys out of the car, he grabbed the computer bag from the seat next to him. Before he climbed out, he wiped it down, careful not to leave any fingerprints. He did the same at the trunk when he pulled his small carry-on from the back.

Options. He’d spent so much time thinking about his options and so much time living in fear lately. His best bet had been finding the kid, getting back to the boss, but with each passing day . . . no. The odds had gotten slimmer and slimmer, and now, they were just about nonexistent. He’d never thought that Gustavo Morales would cost him this much. He’d always expected it would be the boy he had to worry about.

After all, Gustavo had been a well-known philanderer. The señor had had him investigated and Esteban had done the same. Nothing in the man’s past led Esteban to think he would have proven to be such a problem. He played at life. He went to parties, even did some modeling. Modeling, of all things. He hadn’t been very successful at it, but the man floated around and didn’t appear to succeed at anything, except sleeping with women.

Rumor had it that he wasn’t above playing man-whore to some of the more financially well-off women in Mexico.

He never should have been an issue.

Yet, Gustavo had been the problem from the beginning.

Reyes had said that Gustavo wouldn’t be a problem. But the man had been wrong. The bastard. Esteban let himself think that way . . . now. As he made his way into the swamp, he decided it was okay to finally think about the señor in whatever way he chose. He’d never thought that Reyes was the one who passed on the . . . weird . . . abilities to his son, but he hadn’t wanted to take the chance and he’d always been careful to monitor even his personal thoughts when it came to one Ignacio Reyes. But no more. There wasn’t any point, not after tonight.

He reached the rickety old dock and eyed the surrounding area.

This would do well, he thought. Very well. A mosquito landed on him as he knelt to catch the rope tied to the dock. He caught the rope and untied it, absently humming to himself as he worked. It felt nice, he thought. Having a plan in mind. Taking the stress, the burden off his shoulders. He didn’t have to worry anymore. Not now.

Once he’d finished untying the boat, he took his personal documents, both the real ones and the fake ones, and put them in his carry-on. Then, with a quick look around, he tossed his computer case into the deep, brackish water. Maybe it would be found. Maybe it wouldn’t. But it wasn’t his concern anymore. Neither was Reyes. Neither was the boy. Neither was that bastard Gustavo Morales.

If he had been feeling benevolent toward the señor, he could have left his information where the man could put it toward some sort of use, but he wasn’t feeling benevolent. At all. If anything, some part of him almost wished the boy luck. The boy, not that cabrón Morales. Morales could rot in hell, right along with the señor. Right along with Esteban.

Of course, if he really wanted to wish the boy luck, he could call off the psychic wolves, but there wasn’t time for that. He had to take action before the señor decided to send somebody after him. In all likelihood, there were already people looking for him.

No. If the boy was going to survive, he’d do it on his own, without any help from Esteban.

Eyeing the narrow little boat, he climbed in.

There was just one thing he really needed.

He pulled it out, stroking the cool metal idly. It would be full night soon. He could hear the odd, eerie music of the night creatures. He rather enjoyed it. He’d go deeper into the swamps before he did anything.

It was almost over.

He’d enjoy the quiet of the swamp. And then he’d die there . . . his way.

REYES lowered the phone to the desk.

Esteban wasn’t answering.

It was an irritation more than anything else, but if he didn’t return his calls soon, Reyes would be very upset.

Esteban didn’t want to see Reyes angry. Things were already not looking well for him.

Absently, he glanced up, eyeing the door. Usually, when he was feeling frustrated, one thing made it better.

Nala.

But she hadn’t been her normal self lately.

Ever since she’d slipped away from him for a few days. He closed a hand into a fist, remembering. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so hard on her when she came back. And she had come back. She’d come back—he hadn’t tracked her down, although he’d certainly tried. It was like she’d disappeared into the wind.

That was part of why he’d been so angry. If she left again . . .

No.

She wouldn’t. She knew now what would happen.

Brushing that thought aside, he focused on the matter at hand. Esteban. His missing son.

Reaching for the phone, he made a call. It was time to bring Esteban home. Time for a changing of the guard, so to speak.

“Jorge. Please come to my office.”

SLUMPED in the chair, Nalini kept her back against the wall, the laptop on her legs and her expression bored.

Even when Ignacio came her way, she didn’t look away from the screen, although she did shut down the screen to the website she was hacking into. That damned site, The Psychic Portal.

He settled on the lounge next to her and stretched out his legs. “Are you still ignoring me?”

She reached for her glass and took a long, deep drink of the sweet rum concoction. It was about the only thing she trusted to numb the pain just then. When she’d made it back to Ignacio’s villa, he’d smiled at her, kissed her . . . and then slammed a brutal fist into her face. You are never to leave here without my permission, Nala. This is the only warning you’ll receive.

Her face felt like it had been hammered and that wasn’t far off. Ignacio was a buff guy. She could have avoided the hit, but she’d rather he not know she could. She’d already revealed more than she’d wanted to, just by disappearing. He knew she could get away from him, and she also knew he’d sent men after her. Knew that they’d been rather useless at finding her.

That wasn’t good.

So she’d taken the hit, much as it sucked. Sometimes a woman just had to do lousy things. He’d pay for that hit sooner or later.

Right now, she was having fun ignoring him. It was pissing him off, too. She really liked that.

A cruel hand reached out and closed around her wrist.

Thank you for making this so easy. She turned her head and listened for about five seconds as he said gently, “I will not tolerate being ignored, Nala. I let you pout for a short time, but it’s done.” He gestured to the laptop. “I wish to make love to you. Put that away.”

She touched her tongue to her lip, watched as his gaze lowered to her mouth. She was kind of tired of behaving. She’d been doing it for too long already. “You know what . . . I’ve got a better idea.”

“WHY did you bother asking her anything?”

Vaughnne just stared at the window in the coming night. Her gaze was blank and her face was serene. She didn’t look all that bothered by the fact that she’d just seen him kill two people, but he knew better.

Something was bothering her and he’d get to the bottom of it. He had to know just how far he could trust her, just how far she’d go. She said she wanted Alex safe, but while he’d do anything to see it happen . . . he doubted she’d do the same, doubted she could say the same.

“Because I needed to know,” she said when he continued to stare at her.

“Why?”

Her lashes swept down low for a minute. “The agent in me gets it. I know why they were there and I had very little, if any doubt, that they knew what they were doing, that they knew they were after a kid. Did they stop to question why somebody was after a kid? Question his motives? His reasoning? Any of that? I don’t know. And the agent in me knows this . . . they didn’t care. They had a job to do and that’s all that mattered. I know that. I get that. I’ve seen some damn shitty stuff, doing the kind of work I do—that’s why I do it. To help put a stop to it. But there’s another part of me that just . . . doesn’t. And I had to know. I had to ask.”

“You still want to trust people,” he said softly. He turned his head and stared out at the scenery as it raced by. The highway lights blurred around him and he kept watching the mirrors, waiting to see sirens. Vaughnne had a police scanner in the car and they’d heard the alert go out once the bodies were found.

That had been more than an hour ago. He’d heard them talk about a “disturbance at the hospital,” but so far, he and Vaughnne hadn’t been connected to it. He hoped it wouldn’t happen because having his description splashed on the news wasn’t going to do his situation any good.

But if it happened . . .

He pushed the thought aside and focused on Vaughnne. “You must see the lowest forms of life out there, corazón. The work you do. How you lost your sister. Yet you still think you can trust people.”

“Oh, I know I can trust some,” she said softly. “But this isn’t about trusting people. It’s about not being willing to believe everybody out there is a monster.”

Gus closed his eyes. Life was easier when he trusted nobody. Nothing. When he kept his focus solely on the boy. When his life revolved around Alex, it was simple. It was complicated now and he didn’t like that.

Memory flashed through his mind and his blood heated as those memories rose up to whisper, Oh, you didn’t like it? Didn’t like fucking her? Don’t want to do it again?

His heart thudded against his ribs, hard and heavy, and he resisted the urge to open his eyes and look at her. He’d have her again. He already knew that. But it was more to ease that hunger than anything else. It had to be; there was no way he’d let himself need anybody. No way he’d let himself want anybody in his life. It was hard enough just letting himself love Alex, knowing how easily that could be shattered and lost.

“How far do we drive tonight?” Vaughnne’s voice cut through the dark, edgy hunger and he bit back a curse.

“Drive until you can’t see straight,” he said sourly. “Then pull off to the side of the road and I’ll take over.”

A smirk twisted her lips. “Okay, then. And I assume I head toward Mexico, right?”

DRIVE until you can’t see straight.

She was tempted to jab him with something sharp. Or thump him over the head with something heavy.

Granted, she’d be biting off more than she could chew, but the jackass brought out the worst in her and she couldn’t help it.

Still, he’d be surprised at just how far she could go without sleep.

If she hadn’t had the shit walloped out of her in the past few days, between him slipping her the damned drugs and the car wreck, she could manage another day or so without it.

Day was bleeding away into night when she had to pull over. The brilliant lights of the gas station were what drew her, and anxiety pounded in her as she filled up the gas tank. She had the keys in her pocket, but that wasn’t going to keep Gus from taking off. Nothing was going to keep him here if he didn’t want to be here—she knew that.

Still. She had to use that damn bathroom and she was hungry.

As she finished topping off the tank, she ran through the list of options in her mind and it didn’t take a very long time to ponder each, and toss them aside. The ideal option would be knocking him out for a while so she could go deal with her bladder. Then she’d know he’d be here when she got out.

The only problem with that scenario . . . she blew out a sigh as she screwed the gas cap on. There was no way in hell she’d be able to knock that guy out. Wasn’t going to happen. Not unless she figured out a way to do it from a good ten feet away. Maybe she could shriek him into unconsciousness.

As she started to circle around the car, her bladder screaming, the door opened.

Gus climbed out and stared at her over the hood of the car. He had his bag slung over his arm. She’d noticed that he kept that bag very, very close. “We need to stop for a bit. I have to make a few phone calls and we need to hit the restrooms, grab a bite to eat. You’re also going to get in contact with your . . . boss. Jones. I want to know about Alex.”

She eyed him narrowly. Okay. No point in letting him know how completely on board she was with the restroom idea, she figured. Restoom, food, all good things. Calling Jones? Not such a great idea, but hell. She wasn’t surprised. Actually, she was . . . she was very surprised he hadn’t pushed for her to do this earlier.

Running her tongue along her teeth, she said softly, “I’ll call Jones. Last. And I’m staying on your ass the entire way.”

A slow smile tugged up his lips. “Think I’m going to try and ditch you now, Vaughnne?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Stop worrying about that. It’s not an issue. You’re in this until the end, because if I fail, you are the one who is taking responsibility for my nephew. You stepped into this and you gave your word you’d see him safe. I’m holding you to that.”

Briefly she wondered just how she was going to do that if she ended up dead along with him. Because that was what he meant by fail. A polite, pretty way of saying, If I end up with my throat slit or worse, you’re picking up the ball.

That had already been taken care of, though. Even if Gus didn’t realize it. Nobody would or could watch after a kid like Alex the way the people in her unit could. Not that he was going to be communal property exactly, but somebody in her unit would make sure he was cared for. Loved. And trained.

Once that kid was trained, there wasn’t going to be a person alive who posed much of a threat to him, she suspected. Once he was trained, he’d see to his own safety.

As Gus turned toward the travel plaza, she debated on whether or not to leave the car where it was or trust him enough and let him out of her sight so she could move it.

In the end, she decided she’d make a show of faith. Somehow she didn’t think he was bullshitting her about her being in this to the end. Maybe he hadn’t meant for that to be reassuring to her, but it was.

Yeah.

It was.

If she didn’t have to worry about him ditching her at every opportunity, she could focus on the bigger problem.

Alex’s father.

As she started the car, Gus glanced back over his shoulder, one brow lifted. She gestured to the front of the store and started to nose the car around. At the last minute, though, she pulled around to the store, over near the back. There wasn’t exactly any place that was hidden in the shadows here—bright lights lit up the area, and out beyond that pool of light, darkness and the stretch of road awaited. But she didn’t want to leave the car right out front.

As she climbed out, Gus appeared at the end of the sidewalk where it curved around to the front. His pale eyes glittered in his face as he watched her and her heart jumped and danced around in her throat, just looking at him. Really, that man was just too beautiful to exist. It wasn’t fair to the female population. Not at all.

Spit pooled in her mouth and she had to swallow just to keep from drooling as she moved to meet him on the sidewalk.

“We going inside?” she asked, trying to act like she wasn’t desperate to touch him. Desperate to see him, be near him. How had he hit her like this? A few weeks ago, she’d been stuck behind a desk, dealing with bitching headaches and wondering when she could get back out in the field.

And now, here she was, still dealing with bitching headaches, back out in the field . . . and standing in front of a man who had come to mean way too much to her, especially considering how very little she really knew about him.

He lifted a hand and brushed a stray curl back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “If you were smart, you’d try to lose me once you were inside the store. Take off, steal a car, and get away from here. Before it’s too late. Once they connect you to me, do you understand you may never be able to go back to your life?”

“I’ve never been much on doing the smart thing. Just the thing that felt right.” She shrugged and tried not to react as he shifted his attention from her hair to her mouth. He cupped her chin in his hand, stroked his thumb along her lower lip. The light touch sent all sorts of sparks and heat dancing down her spine and she wanted to shudder. Shiver. Quiver. She was quivering. And hungry, so damn hungry for him, but this wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place. Not that they were likely to have that anytime soon. “Besides, how likely am I to get away if I tried?”

Lashes swept low. “If you ran now, I might let you go. You never should have gotten caught up in this. I’ve got enough blood on my hands. I . . .”

His voice trailed off and then he shook his head. “Come on. We’re wasting time.”

“Yeah, and there’s none of that,” she said, sighing. Edging around him, trying to ignore the ache spreading through her, she started to the store. “I’ll call Jones once we’re done with the pit stop and grabbing up some food for the road. I’ve got cash if you don’t.”

There was no answer. She couldn’t hear him behind her as she headed into the store.

But he was following her. She was excruciatingly aware of that fact.

THEY bought some throwaway cell phones.

Gus had several of them stashed in his bag, but he didn’t want to use them until he had to, so before they left, he peeled off a few twenties and bought two more, added a few cards to their purchases so they would have airtime. Vaughnne stood next to him, her right hand hanging loose, her left thumb hitched in her pocket as she stood there, a bored expression on her face.

She might look bored to anybody else, but he recognized that look.

She was watching. Noticing everything.

The door opened and a gust of hot air blew in, and even though her expression never changed, he imagined she could tell him everything about the person who’d just walked in.

Of course, he’d also noticed.

A trucker. Big guy, nearly six foot five, black, his beard going gray and his head smooth and bald, shiny in the bright light. He wore a faded T-shirt with Mr. T on it, and although it hung loosely on him, it couldn’t disguise the muscular build. Automatically, Gus cataloged how the man moved, decided the guy knew how to move and probably knew how to fight, as well.

But he was older and he looked tired, like he’d spent the entire day on the road.

He also had a direct look about him, and if Gus had to kill him, he’d do it quick and easy.

It was normal, for him, to note everything about everybody and decide how he’d kill somebody. Some people would die slow, because if he made it slow, he could get information out of them. Others, he’d kill fast because they’d never talk, or if they did talk, it would take too much time, and time was one thing Gus never wasted.

The man looked like one who knew how to take pain.

Stop it, a soft voice murmured into his mind. Shifting his eyes to the side, he eyed Vaughnne narrowly.

She lifted a brow at him, and once more, her voice rolled through him. Stop. He’s just a trucker. If he was more, I’d know. He’s not.

He wondered how she was so certain, when she had been the one to point out to him that there were psychics who could hide themselves very, very well—she hadn’t sensed the two earlier. And Alex hadn’t ever sensed a thing from her.

But then again, Vaughnne and Alex were two very different creatures. Even he could see that.

Alex might be a wildfire, deadly and strong, but Vaughnne was forged steel. Equally deadly, equally strong. And she had control.

Control . . . questions, demands, burned inside him, and abruptly, he was tired of not having those answers. Especially when there was somebody who could answer them.

As they paid for their purchases, he decided, then and there, he’d get the questions.

“You want us to get these activated for you?” the kid behind the counter asked.

“No.” Gus looked away before the kid could offer anything else, and in another few minutes, they were out of the store. He took a slow look around the parking lot even as they headed for the car, his mind already focused on those questions.

“How am I calling Jones?” Vaughnne asked softly.

He pulled his phone from his back pocket and pushed it into her hand. “We’ll toss it once the call is done. I assume you know the number.”

“You assume correctly.”

As she went to open the driver’s door, he stopped her, gesturing to the other side of the car. As Vaughnne went to climb into the car, she paused, her body tensing. The expression on her face had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

“I don’t think I’m making that call yet,” she said softly, tension threaded through her voice.

He just nodded as they slid into the car. Those answers he wanted would have to wait. From the corner of his eye, he could see her muscles tighten, then relax, like she was readying herself.

“A couple of people,” she murmured. “I feel something.”

“A white Explorer just pulled into the far side of the parking lot. Do I stay here or pull out?” he asked, jamming the key into the ignition. Asking for advice on which move to make felt foreign, but this was her territory. He should have listened to her before this. It was high time he did so.

Vaughnne looked around and then gestured as a large group of people came pouring out of the travel plaza, heading for a couple of cars parking a few spaces down. “Pull out when they do. Enough commotion will distract them for a minute.”

“Once we’re on the road, we have to move,” he said grimly. He kept his gaze on the white SUV, watched as it disappeared out of his line of sight.

She gave him a lazy smile. “Yeah. That would be wise.” That lazy smile remained firmly in place even as he placed his bag in her lap and it didn’t even wobble as she lifted a brow and unzipped it. “Damn, Gus. You believe in coming prepared, don’t you?”

He didn’t respond as he backed the car up, moving with the others she’d pointed out.

She slid him a look. “Do us both a favor and keep pace with them for a few minutes. Trust me, even if they notice us, they aren’t going to want the attention of the cops, so they are not going to be speeding or any crazy shit.”

He didn’t give a damn if the cops noticed him or not, but even as he went to tell her that, she cut him off. “If we end up in a high-speed chase heading through southern Mississippi, it’s not going to help either of us. And while I can probably help with things as long as you don’t piss off the locals, if they see these?” She gestured to the bag in her lap and shook her head. “All bets are off. I may be FBI, but I still have to follow the law. And none of these look terribly legal to me.”

He shot a look in the rearview mirror while the skin on the back of his neck continued to crawl. “I’m not worried about the legalities, Vaughnne.” The white Explorer wasn’t behind them. Yet.

“I get that. I suspect you think you’ve crossed the point of no return, and I understand. But don’t you think it would serve your purpose to at least get to him before we both go down in fiery crash?”

He curled his lip. “None of the cops around here would be able to stop me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Your arrogance is so appealing, really. But how about this . . . none of the cops around here have done a damn thing to you, and if this ends up in a high-speed chase because you won’t pull over for them, people will get hurt. Think about that . . . for five seconds. I’m probably throwing my career away as it is, but I’d rather not let anybody innocent get hurt while I’m at it.”

He clenched his jaw as he stared out the window, too aware of the long, mostly empty expanse of highway wrapping around them. The cars they’d followed out of the travel plaza had just headed east.

But so far, the white Explorer was still back at the plaza. “I’ll try to behave,” he said.

Try.

“Why aren’t they following us?”

“They might not have known we were there.” She shrugged and glanced back at the plaza as the road curved around. A few seconds later, it was gone from their sight. “Sometimes a psychic just gets a blip, a flash of some place or thing. It could have been that. They could have somebody who gets visions and they were looking for us because of that. Who knows? It doesn’t matter as long as we avoid them.”

“That’s going to make this fun,” he muttered, pushing his baseball cap off. He tossed it into the backseat and shoved his fingers through his hair while various plans of attack ran through his mind.

“Is that website still up?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She pulled her phone out. A few seconds later, she angled the display toward him. “Yes. And the fucking ad.”

“Mierda.” The damn website. Alex . . . was he safe?

He didn’t know that one crucial thing.

But he did know somebody was chasing after them.

“If they’ve found us, could they have found him?” he asked softly.

Long, painfully quiet seconds stretched out before she finally answered, “It’s a vague possibility, but unless they’ve got an army, they’ll have a hard time getting him away from Jones. It’s not just one man he’s got watching him now, Gus. It’s an entire unit who’ll take care of him. And they are all very, very good at what they do.”