You’ve been watching too many over-the-top television thrillers. I suspect this is some private organization, one of those crazy-ass cult-type things. If it was the government, don’t you think we would have been found by now? They’re being way too careful, like they’re as worried about being caught as we are.
Damn it, Grace, just leave it alone. Stay low.
Until when? You want to run forever? When are we going to come up with a solution? Your solution is to run and keep me safe by refusing contact, fearing you’ll know where I am and the information can be tortured out of you. Well, f**k that. We aren’t doing anything to solve the problem. We’re running like two sissies and waiting. For what? For Superman to swoop down and save us? How can we solve anything if we don’t know who is after us? When we know who, then we’ll know who we can and can’t trust.
Shea blew out her breath in frustration. I get it, okay? But here’s what you’re not considering. Say you find out it’s some private off-their-rocker group who know what we are and what we can do and they want us for their own nefarious purposes. So you figure this out and go to the police or the government or whoever.
What’s to stop them from deciding they want to exploit you? You could very well be trading one enemy for another, and if it is some private half-ass group who’s afraid of discovery, then good. That gives us an advantage. But if we go to the authorities and they decide they want to use us, what the hell do we do then?
Grace sighed. Damn it, I hate when you start making sense. That’s supposed to be my job as the older sister. Still, it doesn’t hurt to learn as much as we can about these ass**les. We have to trust someone at some point, right? Or do we plan to spend the rest of our lives running?
Shea closed her eyes. I hope not. We’ll figure something out.
Grace touched Shea’s cheek and then pulled her into a fierce hug. We’ll beat this, Shea.
For once it was Grace offering comfort and encouragement.
CHAPTER 7
THERE was something to be said for big cities, but they still made her nervous. After ditching her car after the near miss in Kansas City, she’d decided to go with something a little more rugged. Just in case. Four-wheel drive. Something that could handle rough terrain if it came to that.
She’d really wanted to stay in Colorado, lose herself in some remote mountain area, but if she was tracked there, her escape possibilities were slim. And she knew little to nothing about roughing it. Her idea of camping was a nice hotel with room service and a spa.
Until Nathan was rescued and no longer needed her, she absolutely had to keep to areas that swallowed people up. Afterward, she could hopefully find a place that was quiet, big enough that she wouldn’t garner too many questions but small enough that she would know if her pursuers showed up.
And yeah, she’d prefer a place with an actual roof, working utilities and a bathroom so she wasn’t forced to do her thing behind a bush.
She’d start in California. Work her way up the coast, closer to where it all began. Maybe Grace was right in that they needed more information. If she could eventually get back to her parents’ house undetected, she could access the surveillance footage from when her parents were killed. Maybe by then it wouldn’t hurt quite so much. Maybe the distance would enable her to view the act with a critical eye.
She shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut at the idea of ever being able to be that analytical when it came to the monsters who’d killed her family.
That would come later. For now she had to concentrate on remaining safe and undetected.
First she checked into a dive motel, giving a fake name and a story about her purse being stolen with all her ID. The clerk hadn’t cared about anything other than her ability to pay, and when she produced cash, he gave her a key without question.
The next item on her agenda was to walk into a salon and undergo a radical change in her appearance. The hairdresser had been dubious about her decision to dye her honey blond hair dark brown, but she’d shrugged and done the job.
It wasn’t the first time Shea had dyed her hair. She’d changed her appearance every few months. Since she’d been back to blond in her last close call, she chose dark and she’d switch to the brown-colored contacts.
In other circumstances, it would have amused her that over the last year she’d been a redhead, a blonde, several shades of brunette, and her eyes had been a range of green, blue and brown.
She’d go back to blond the next time she moved. The important part was that whenever she left an area, that same woman didn’t appear somewhere else.
Back at her hotel, she took the handgun out of her bag and placed it on the nightstand so it would be within easy reach. The rest of her things she left packed in case she needed to make a fast getaway.
She was starving, but she was more exhausted. She sank onto the bed, grimaced at the hard lumpy mattress and closed her eyes.
It was automatic to reach for Nathan. She’d checked on him frequently as she made the drive to Southern California. Part of her fatigue was from maintaining such constant contact.
To her surprise, he was alert, intensely so. Rigid, crouched in his cell, rage so prevalent that it rolled through her like fire.
This time there wasn’t a hesitation. He’d grown used to sensing her as soon as she brushed against his mind. He no longer questioned her presence.
They’re working Swanson over, goddamn it.
Fury hit her like a tornado. Nathan boiled with it. Helpless fury. He clenched and unclenched his hands, and hatred clawed at Shea until she flinched from the negative wash that poured from him.