Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Asher steered the stolen sedan along a two-lane state highway, the headlights carving a narrow path through the darkness. The hum of the engine was steady, the only sound breaking the silence since he and Cici had traded places after her panic-and-giggle cocktail back in Springfield.
She was not the cool-under-pressure type, but that was okay. He was, and he could lead her to safety, as long as she trusted him enough to follow his directions.
The giggling, the stress-babbling? They should drive him crazy. And they did, but in all the wrong ways. Like everything else about Cici Wright, the things about her that should be annoying only attracted him more.
Right now, she needed him, and there was no headier drug than being needed by a beautiful woman.
If he didn’t put that very inappropriate thought away, it would distract him, which was the last thing either one of them needed.
I-90 would’ve gotten them to Boston in a couple of hours—sooner at this time of night—but he’d decided they’d do best to avoid the interstate.
Too obvious. Too exposed. He’d surely run across at least one cop—a problem if this car had already been reported stolen, though he hoped the driver had parked it for the weekend.
More importantly, the guys following them were smart and had resources.
This beat-up Ford had an electronic toll pass adhered to the windshield, which would trigger every time they passed beneath a reader on the toll road.
Even if he pried it off, toll roads recorded license plates.
He couldn’t take the chance that their pursuers could access those records.
He and Cici had managed to escape twice. He wasn’t sure they’d survive round three.
Where had he messed up? How did those thugs keep finding them?
Their pursuers—he needed to figure out who their enemies were—must’ve found his pickup near the Thirtieth Street Station and deduced that he and Cici had hopped a train.
It took them time to get ahead, though—Springfield was a good haul from Philly.
They must’ve studied the Amtrak schedule, driven like madmen, and waited at the station like vultures.
Smart, organized, determined. And the way they’d tracked her cell phone…
? That proved they had resources beyond the typical criminal.
If Asher and Cici were picked up in Massachusetts for stealing this car, Cici would be extradited to Pennsylvania to face charges there for arson and murder.
Asher would face charges as an accessory after the fact.
“Are you all right?” Cici had been so quiet that her voice startled him.
“What?” He blinked. “I’m fine.”
“You sure? Because you’re gripping that steering wheel like you’re trying to choke the life out of it. I’m not sure this car can handle that much aggression.”
He stretched his hands out. “Just thinking about everything.”
“Come to any conclusions?”
None, which was why this whole thing was so frustrating. He needed to ask Cici about what she’d seen and heard in the jewelry store that day. At the same time, he’d needed a few minutes of peace.
“How’d you do that, back at the station. With the gas and the clutch? You got the engine going without hot-wiring it again.”
“Just popped the clutch.”
“That clears it right up, thanks.”
Sarcasm. Nice. “I’m sure you don’t remember, but back in high school, I drove a beat-up Nissan.” He glanced at her, saw no recognition on her face. Of course she’d never noticed what he drove. She’d barely known he existed.
“Anyway, it stalled a lot, so I learned how to pop the clutch to get it going again. It’s just a matter of feeling the sweet spot between the clutch and the gas.”
“Wow. Thank God you had that skill.”
He’d hated that car. He’d been embarrassed by it, especially considering the other kids in town drove much nicer vehicles. But like so much in his past, God had used it.
He should be thankful.
“I’m sorry,” Cici said. “I’ve been trying to be quiet. I know it annoys you when I talk too much. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to drive the car. Thank you for getting us out of that. I’m trying not to be a nuisance. I’m sorry you got sucked into this madness.” She laughed. “Sorry. I’m doing it again.”
He glanced at her. “What do you mean? Doing what again?”
“Babbling. It doesn’t usually take gunshots to make me shut up. I was just…panicking.”
Back at the station, yeah. But why was she babbling now?
“Not that you make me nervous. Or…but I guess maybe you do. Or it’s just…” Her words faded. A moment later, she added. “Anyway, you didn’t seem like you were okay.”
“It’s not every day I elude killers and steal a car.”
“Really?”
Maybe she saw something in his expression, because she added, “For all I know, this is a normal day for you.”
She was amusing, even when she wasn’t trying to be.
“Not even close. I had more relaxing missions behind enemy lines.”
That made her giggle, the sound so lighthearted and unexpected that he couldn’t help the smile that tugged his lips.
“That makes me feel better. I mean, most of the time I’m pretty competent. I hate that I lost it like I did back at the station. I was just a little bit freaked out.”
“I was a little bit freaked out too.”
“Ha. You were amazing. You’re a quick thinker and…and you just make decisions and go with them. It’s really impressive. I can’t imagine being in better hands.”
Her words filled him, infused him with a combination of courage and pleasure and determination to prove her right.
Her kindness and gratitude surprised him. But they shouldn’t have.
He’d changed in the last ten years. Why was he surprised that she had too?
The gas gauge hovered near a quarter tank, and a glowing sign up ahead promised a station. He pulled in, the sedan’s tires crunching gravel, and parked beside a pump. The place was dead except for a bored clerk Asher spied through the glass, sitting behind the counter and scanning his phone.
Cici sat up. “Thank goodness. I wasn’t going to ask, but I need a bathroom.”
He cut the engine. “I’ll walk you inside.”
She looked exhausted, still wearing the wig. Somehow, she made it and the oversized sweatshirt look cute.
This woman would look good in a potato sack.
He followed her inside to the back, where a dingy sign pointed to restrooms.
“Lock the door. Stay in there for a few minutes. I’m going to pump some gas, and then I’ll be back. I’ll knock when I’m here.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
He normally wouldn’t leave a client alone, but aside from the clerk—whom Asher could watch through the window—the place was deserted. And he needed a minute to think.
The night air was cool, the scent of gasoline heavy. He shoved the nozzle into the opening, then stuck in his ear buds and pulled his phone from his pocket. He dialed Bartlett.
“Rhodes,” Bartlett answered, voice rough as gravel. “Do you know what time it is?”
“We’re alive. That’s the headline.” Asher had texted his boss after the train left Philly, letting him know the plan.
He hadn’t had a chance to update him since then.
“Train was stopped in Springfield when Cici spotted one of the goons from the jewelry store. We ditched him, but there were more in the station.”
A beat of silence. “And?”
“I hot-wired a car. Shot out the thugs’ tires when they followed. We’re on back roads now, headed to the city.”
“You stole a car?” Bartlett’s voice spiked, incredulous. “You’re not a SEAL anymore, and you’re on American soil. You can’t just—”
“I understand.” If Asher’s jaw clenched any tighter, he’d give himself a headache.
“They were ten seconds from grabbing her, probably killing both of us. I could’ve killed them, but if I’m going to prison, I’d prefer it be for auto theft than murder, thank you very much.
The client’s still breathing, and the necklace is still safe. ”
Bartlett exhaled hard. “You’re supposed to be discreet.”
“Discreet went out the window when they murdered an innocent man, torched a jewelry store, and put Cici’s face on the news. So maybe cut me some slack.”
Bartlett said nothing for a few beats, and Asher figured he’d gone too far. He was justified in his anger, but he didn’t want to lose his job.
“You’re right.” Bartlett’s words came with a hint of legitimate regret. “I knew you could handle the paranoid tech guy by yourself, but this isn’t that.”
“Far from it.” Asher gave his boss more details about everything that’d happened.
“They must have connections with police or…or cell phone companies at least. I can’t figure out how else they could’ve tracked her phone so fast.” Truth was, Asher should request Bartlett send a second man.
But for the time being, they were safe, and he needed to prove he could handle the job by himself if he ever wanted to be a team leader.
Asher was good at what he did. Very good. If Bartlett didn’t see that, then maybe Asher should find another job.
And he would, except this one paid much better than any of the other security jobs he’d applied for. This one would supply the cash he needed to buy his own place, to start building the life he craved, one with a safety net for himself and his family, including the one he hoped to build someday.
“All our guys are tied up this weekend,” Bartlett said. “Do I need to pull someone off another job to help you?”
“I’ve gotten her this far. We’ll make it to Maine.”
“Good, good. This is your opportunity to prove your skills.”
In other words, don’t screw it up.
As usual, Asher was balancing on a thin line. One wrong move and he’d lose everything. “We need a new ride. It’s just a matter of time before this one’s reported stolen.”
“It won’t be tonight. Dawn, at best, if I can get someone out to you. Meanwhile, you need to get off the road. Hold on.”
The line went quiet, leaving nothing but the buzz of the lights and the cool breeze whispering through the pines overhead. Asher finished pumping the gas, then jogged into the store. He knocked on the restroom door to let Cici know he was back.
It opened and she stepped out. She’d straightened her wig, not that it would do much good now that the bad guys had seen her in it.
“Should we grab some food?” she asked. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
They’d missed dinner, and his stomach was growling. He followed her to a freezer case, where she perused the selection.
Or lack thereof, it turned out.
She grabbed a bag of trail mix and a bottle of water.
He snatched a Coke, then a bag of Cheetos. “Should I get you one?”
She scrunched her nose. “You can’t possibly eat those and look like”—she waved toward him—“that.”
He looked down, then met her eyes. “Like what?”
Her pale cheeks turned pink, adorably embarrassed.
Causing an entirely unprofessional reaction. She’s a client. Just a client.
“Never mind.” She brushed past him to the counter. “Put your stuff up here too. I’ll get it.”
Irritation might as well have been a cold shower. “I can buy my own stuff, Cici. I’m not destitute.”
She looked up at him, blinking. “I know that.” She sounded confused. “I didn’t say… I was just…I mean, you’re in this because of me. I figured I should at least buy you a snack.”
Obviously, he’d read more into her offer than he should have. Swallowing his ridiculous pride, he set his things on the counter and let her pay with cash.
When she was finished, he scooped up the bag with their purchases. “Thanks.”
They were nearly to the car when Bartlett came back on the line. “You there?”
“Yup.”
Cici gave him a look, and he gestured to his earphones.
Bartlett said, “Secured a house for you. Small place ten miles north of Sturbridge. You can lie low till the car’s delivered.”
“I’d rather keep moving.” After glancing into the backseat to ensure nobody’d climbed in, he opened her door for her.
“I’d rather you not end up in a cell. Hopefully, Forbes can smooth this over—pay off the car’s owner so they don’t press charges. That is, assuming you get caught.”
Asher didn’t plan to let that happen. He climbed in on the driver’s side and set the food on the console between them.
“A billionaire’s got deep pockets,” Bartlett added. “Let’s hope he’s generous.”
Asher did not appreciate the suggestion that he’d be relying on the man’s charity. He was protecting Cici—Ballentine’s girlfriend’s sister—and a piece of jewelry probably worth more than Asher would earn in a lifetime. He expected the people he risked his life for to compensate him.
How often had his expectations run counter to people’s behavior, though? More times than he wanted to consider.
He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion gnawing at him. “Address?”
Bartlett rattled it off, along with a four-digit code to get inside.
Asher tapped the address into his phone and memorized the code.
“Keep her safe, Rhodes. And don’t steal anything else.”
“Needs must when the devil drives, but I’ll do my best.” He ended the call and hot-wired the car. He’d done it often enough that it seemed perfectly natural to him now.
“Everything okay?” Cici asked.
“We’re stopping for the night.”
If she didn’t like that idea, she kept her opinion to herself. Maybe, like him, she was simply too tired to argue.
After they returned to the store to grab food for breakfast, they backtracked toward Sturbridge, then turned north on a narrow road, munching their snacks on the way. The sedan rattled over potholes, the backroads twisting through forest.
His mind ran a loop he couldn’t break.
Get Cici to Shadow Cove. Deliver her and the necklace to Ballentine. Be done with this job.
It sounded so simple, but it felt like a slow bleed on his career.
Stealing a car wasn’t a résumé highlight—Bartlett’s reaction had made that clear.
If he got caught, if Forbes didn’t bail him out, he could kiss the agency goodbye.
No job, no condo, no stability. Just him, twenty-eight years old, starting from scratch. Again.
And wouldn’t that be fitting right now, with Cici Wright a front-row witness to his latest humiliation.
The safe house was a pretty little cabin tucked off the road behind a screen of oaks and birches and maples. One story, weathered clapboard, no neighbors in sight. Perfect for lying low.
He pulled into the gravel drive, killed the engine, and sat there a beat, listening to the night settle. “A new car should be delivered first thing. Once we get into the house, don’t come back out. We don’t want anyone to know we’re here.”
“Gotcha. And then what?”
They climbed out of the car, and he spoke to her over the roof. “Then we get you to Shadow Cove.” With her suitcase and his duffel, he headed for the door, boots crunching on gravel. “God willing, this ends tomorrow.”
He hoped he was right—for both their sakes.