She waited for Logan to correct Willie’s assumption but he never did. Instead he walked around to the back of his Mustang and popped the trunk, retrieving a duffle bag similar to the one he’d left behind at Benediction with all his kinky toys. Swinging it over his shoulders, he quietly shut the trunk and then moved to stand beside her. He slung his arm around her waist as if making his claim on her.

“Good luck, man.” Willie hopped into the Mustang and, tires squealing, drove away practically before she could blink, as if he was afraid Logan would change his mind about the swap.

The silence unnerved her, her overactive imagination running rampant waiting for homicidal FBI agents, misinformed cops, or gangbangers to jump out of the darkness at any moment.

Logan led her to their new vehicle, a gray Monte Carlo. Despite having grown up near the “Motor City” of Detroit, she couldn’t begin to understand the fascination of cars, but she could appreciate that Logan had traded in a beauty for something her parents would drive. Then again, Monte Carlos were so popular, they’d have no problem getting lost in a sea of commonality.

As she got into the passenger side, he threw his duffle into the backseat with a loud thump. “What the hell is in that bag, a dead body?” she asked, only half joking.

He sat beside her and started the engine. “It’s my go-bag.”

“Seriously? You keep a go-bag in your car?”

He shrugged. “Never know when you’re gonna witness two FBI agents assassinate a mobster.”

In no way was this fair. While he had a go-bag and a cell phone, she had nothing other than her purse, and even she wasn’t dumb enough to use a credit card. She had exactly twenty-seven dollars cash and a package of mints to her name at this point. No change of clothes. No deodorant or toothbrush. No special hair care products to keep her thick hair from becoming a frizzy rat’s nest. Nada. But Logan had a prepared duffle full of items that would no doubt keep him looking and smelling fresh as a damned rose.

Remembering she hadn’t eaten dinner, she unwrapped the package of mints and popped one in her mouth. She’d have to make do because obviously, stopping at the McDonalds’ drive-thru was out of the question. She held out the roll, offering it to Logan. He shook his head, declining, and fiddled with his phone.

“Where we headed?” she asked.

“I’ve got an old family friend who’s a survivalist. Keeps to himself and lives out in the middle of nowhere in Florida, not too far from Port Everglades, where our friendly FBI agents are headed. We’ll be safe there until we can figure out who we’re looking for at the port.”

He placed his iPhone into the cup holder and opened an app. Voices filled the car. She sat back and listened as the voices threw out a bunch of numbers and words she was familiar with from her job. Logan had accessed the local police scanner.

It was only moments before she heard them mention the APB out for her and Logan, telling police to look out for a silver Mustang and that they were armed and dangerous.

Hearing her name mentioned that way brought home the gravity of the situation. They really were being framed by the FBI for Rinaldi’s murder. But the police weren’t completely wrong. She was armed. Armed with the truth. And that made her dangerous.

She just wished she knew whom that made her dangerous to.

Chapter Six

“RACHEL, WAKE UP.”

Blinking at the glare of the sun, she opened her eyes and stretched, turning her head to both sides to get the crick out of her neck. They were parked at a gas pump, the store’s large sign at the entrance advertising Georgia peaches and salt licks. Beyond that was a two-lane highway with grass on both sides and not another structure in sight. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

She’d drifted off sometime after they’d passed Atlanta, but had woken up every few minutes, the sound of gunshots still lingering in her memory. The images of Rinaldi’s blood splattering flashed like a slideshow through her mind.

Logan chuckled. “Sure you weren’t. And you also weren’t snoring.”

“I don’t snore.” No one had ever accused her of snoring. Of course, other than her sisters, she’d never slept in the same room as anyone else, and it had been years since she’d done that. “Wait, do I snore?”

He only grinned.

She rolled her eyes, choosing to believe he was teasing over the alternative. “Where are we?” Checking the clock on the dashboard, she calculated the time they’d been in the car. They’d left Detroit around one in the morning, and it was now six at night. Logan had to be feeling the fatigue of driving for fifteen hours without a break, but he’d insisted he was too wound up to take a nap. More likely he was too much of a control freak to give up the wheel.

“ ’Bout an hour north of Florida. This is the last stop before we get to our point of destination, so use the restroom and grab whatever you need. I’ll meet you back at the car in fifteen. Keep your head down and don’t do anything to draw any attention.”

She got out of the car and slammed the door, her knees creaking from the hours of sitting. “You don’t need to tell me that every time we stop, you know.”

He dipped his head, a look of contrition on his tired face. “Sorry.”

A sliver of regret managed to worm its way into her heart. On top of not sleeping all night, the stress of the situation had to prove just as difficult for him. She shouldn’t have snapped like that. “No, I’m sorry. I’m always cranky when I first get up. Mainly because I don’t get more than a couple hours of sleep at night and I survive on coffee, which I haven’t drunk since this morning. I know you were only trying to help.”

Something passed between them at that moment, as if they’d both finally accepted they were in this together. It was too exhausting to hate him. Even she could admit if he hadn’t come along when he had last night, she may have lost it and given away her presence, getting herself killed as a result.

Together they walked into the dirty store of the gas station, avoiding making eye contact with the other customers. The place was falling apart with holes in the walls and cracked tiles in the floors. Her toes curled when she spotted a mouse darting under one of the store shelves.

Logan had mapped out a route to keep them off the highway, so they stuck to lots of back roads, making sure to stop at places that most likely wouldn’t have surveillance cameras. No grainy black-and-white images of her and Logan showing up on the news. So far, the story hadn’t hit the national airwaves. Hopefully, the FBI was assuming they were still in Michigan.

After using the washroom, she nabbed a coffee and a packaged cupcake and paid for it at the register, following Logan’s instructions not to look the clerk in the eye. She took her meal outside, enjoying the fresh air. The weather was humid and much warmer than what they’d left back in Michigan. She took a deep breath and walked past the car toward the grassy area. It felt good to use her legs after being stuck in the car for endless hours. She wasn’t used to sitting still for long. Which reminded her—she’d missed her private session with her Pilates teacher this morning. No wonder she was so stiff.

After sipping the worst coffee she’d ever drunk, she unwrapped her cupcake and took a huge bite, not surprised to find it stale. She dropped both her drink and the cupcake in the garbage. Guess now was as good a time as ever to start a diet.

“Stupid mutt,” a male voice shouted, followed by a loud thud.

Across the field of grass, a man kicked a dog in its side for what she guessed was at least the second time. His head bowed in submission, the dog yelped and edged backward, trying to get away, but the man held its leash, still yelling at the animal as if it understood English.