My gaze settles on some sort of mini fire truck with hoses directly ahead of me and I decided it’s my best coverage. Confirming Liam’s broad shoulders and wide stance offers adequate cover from the cops, I draw a breath and decide to just go for it. Calmly, careful not to bring attention to myself, I climb out of the truck and start walking. And I keep walking, moving past the mini truck and to the gate, then straight toward the exit where the gates remain open with nothing but orange traffic cones as a deterrent to those coming and going.

I’m on the street with not so much as a question asked of me, and I scan for the cab, finding it to the left of the gate. Glancing over my shoulder, some part of me hopes Liam will come charging after me, while another is relieved he is not. More of that regret burrows deep in my gut, but I know I have to do this. Darting across the street, I slip my hand in my purse, unsnap the case around the gun and slip it free. My hand is on the handle when I stop at the cab, and yank open the door, giving myself a split second to register that it’s really Meg inside.

“Amy.” She breathes out my name like it’s relief when it feels dangerous on her tongue, wrong.

“Hurry,” she urges. “Before you’re seen.”

I don’t move. I can’t seem to make myself get in the car.

She shoves a photo at me and I stare at it, then gasp at the image I haven’t been able to fully form in my mind of my brother’s face, staring back at me, his arm wrapped around Meg’s shoulder. He’s with her. I can’t breathe all over again.

“He’s...he’s alive.”

“Not for long if we don’t do something. Help me save him, Amy. Please. I beg of you. Help me save him.”

Chad is alive. Chad is alive! I get into the car and slam the door shut.

“Go!” Meg shouts at the driver and I cannot help but think of the moment at the Denver airport with Liam chasing after me. When I’d been running from the wrong thing and the wrong person.

The cab pulls away from the curb and Meg throws her arms around me. “Thank God you’re okay.”

Reluctantly I return the hug that seems meant more for family than virtual strangers, unable to fight my unease. Shifting away from her, I take the photo she holds, staring at the image, thankful for the city of passing lights that allows me to soak in the way Chad’s blue eyes are lit up with a smile and how his longish blond hair curls just a bit at his forehead and brows.

My gaze lifts to Meg’s, her pale blonde hair a shade not so unlike my brother’s, and I see no discomfort at my intense inspection, just more sympathy, though I’m not sure for what. Pain, maybe? Fear? Confusion? Do these things I feel so completely in this moment radiate off of me the way control and confidence do with Liam?

Her hand covers mine where I’m holding the photo and I don’t miss the obvious symbolism of the choice. “I have more pictures of him. He’s alive, Amy,” she vows. “We have to keep him that way.”

My lips part and there is a burn at the back of my throat and in my belly. I’m not ready to believe yet and risk the heartache of loss all over again. “Tell me everything. I need to know everything.”

She glances at the driver and back at me. “Not until we’re alone. I don’t trust anyone. I just don’t.”

I sink down on the cushion and flatten the picture onto my chest. Don’t trust anyone. The same lesson my handler—my brother?—had given me quite effectively without any real conversations, but then, actions speak louder than words.

Meg sinks down next to me to me, close, too close I think. She laughs without humor. “Ironic, right?”

My brows dip. “What?”

“I just told you I don’t trust anyone and now I want you to trust me.”

Ironic. Yes. Very. “I just want Chad back.”

“Then we want the same things.”

No. If that were true, Liam would be here. “I have questions. Lots of questions.”

“As you should.”

“Why didn’t you tell me who you were before now?”

“Not now,” she cautions. “When we’re alone and safe. We need to focus on safety and the speed of our departure. A man like the one you just left behind will shut down this city to stop you if he can.”

I get her discretion, but I don’t like how she’s avoided his name. “What do you mean, a man like him?”

“Rich and obsessed. It’s a dangerous combination.”

My defenses prickle. “He’s far more than you give him credit for.”

“Oh, I give him plenty of credit, which is exactly why I told our driver to take us to the other side of the Brooklyn Bridge. We need out of this city before he can stop us.”

I cut my gaze and stare out of the window, repeating her words in my head. Out of this city. I would have said the exact same thing forty-eight hours ago and I guess that should be comforting. She is thinking like I was thinking. Even Liam was screaming we had to leave fifteen minutes ago. But together. We were supposed to be together.

Thirty-minutes later, I’ve spent the drive replaying conversations I’ve had with Meg in the past, looking for warning signs, but there isn’t much to go on. We exit the cab at a chilly subway station and I eye Meg’s blue jeans, black knee-high boots and black leather jacket with envy. “Where to now?” I ask, hugging myself and not looking forward to being braless in a subway, especially at whatever time it is. I don’t even know.

“I left my car in Albany.”

“How far is that?”

“Three hours, and one stop where we have to change trains. That is, if we can catch the last train out at 12:30. Otherwise we have to find a cheap hotel and hole up, which gives anyone looking for us time to organize.” She eyes her dainty silver watch. “We’re cutting it close. We’d better run.”

We dart forward, and unbidden, Liam’s voice plays in my head, run to me, Amy, not from me. I’m trying, I think. I really am trying and I hate the hell I must be putting him through.

An hour later, Meg and I have finally completed the short trip from one stop to another and have boarded the train to Albany, settling uncomfortably into the hard plastic seats, with cool air rather than heat blasting me from a vent somewhere above. With no one near us for several rows front and back, we are in the perfect place to talk without eavesdropping.

I lean against the window and face her. “Tell me about Chad. Tell me everything.”

“He’s everything to me and I’ll do whatever it takes to get him back.”

She says the words with conviction and emotion, so why am I struggling to believe her? “How did you meet him?”

“I was a full-time student working at a diner to pay the bills when he started coming in during my shifts. We’d flirted quite a bit. Still, he never asked me out. I wasn’t sure what to think. Then one night this creepy customer was drunk and he tried to...he was inappropriate. Chad punched him and I was rattled. Really rattled. It reminded me...” She cuts her gaze a moment and draws a breath. “I had some bad stuff with my stepfather and I left the diner in the middle of my shift. Chad came after me, clearly worried. No one had worried about me for a very long time, but he hadn’t ever asked me out and I was afraid he just felt sorry for me. Like he had some kind of hero complex about saving damsels in distress. But I found out later he was worried about his job and my safety.”

My brows dip. “His job? What was his job?”

“He told me he did high profile consulting that required complete anonymity and confidentiality.”

“Meaning what?”

“I don’t know.”

I officially sympathize with how Tellar felt with me when I said the same thing to him. “You mean you married him and never knew what he did for a living?”

“I just thought it was a government security thing or something to that effect. New York has plenty of--”

“New York. Are you telling me my brother lived in New York?”