One Tough Marine

“Is it safe?” she asked softly.

He thought about the ease with which Abby had broken into his house earlier. It was probably ten times easier for the intruders he’d just encountered in his kitchen. And they’d been able to disable the silent alarm before it sent him a warning. Had they had access to his personal files at MSI? What else might they know about him and his life in San Diego?

“No,” he answered Abby’s question firmly, reaching into the car to unlatch the trunk. He checked the trunk to make sure the duffel bag he kept stashed there for emergency travel was still in place. It was, and a cursory check of the contents reassured him that he had enough extra clothes and supplies inside to get him through the next few days.

Abby had gotten out of the car and come around to stand beside him, her gaze flickering down to the travel bag. “We’re not staying here tonight, are we?”

He shook his head. “No, we’re not.”

“What happened?”

He told her about the intruders, keeping it short and sweet. But even his sanitized account was enough to reignite the terror that had finally started to fade from her blue eyes. She bit her lip and looked back into the car at Stevie, who was sleeping peacefully in his car seat.

Her chin came up, and when she spoke, there was not a hint of shakiness in her voice. “Where are we going?”

Until that moment, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. But clearly, staying in San Diego would only subject them to more surprise visits from their tormentors. Luke wasn’t foolish enough to assume their bark was worse than their bite; nobody played such aggressive mind games unless they were pretty damned sure they had the goods to back up their threats. Whoever their employer was, he had high-powered connections and, Luke assumed, enough firepower to do what he threatened.

Luke might be a well-trained retired Marine who could still hold his own in a fight, but going up against that kind of enemy alone was stupid. He needed backup and he needed to change the playing field to give himself the advantage. And there was only one place he could think of where he’d have the upper hand.

“Right now,” he answered Abby, “we’re going to find a cheap motel where they’ll take cash and ask no questions.”

“And after that?”

He smiled genuinely for the first time in a long time. “Ever been to Alabama?”

Chapter Four

“If they know all about you, won’t they be staking out your family?” Abby broke the tense silence that had hovered between them for almost three hours. Interstate signs signaled that they were nearing the outskirts of Yuma, Arizona. The drive east had taken longer than it should’ve, thanks to Luke’s wandering tour of eastern San Diego before they’d hit I-8 near El Cajon.

The dashboard clock inched toward 11:00 p.m.

“I haven’t been back to Alabama in almost ten years,” Luke answered flatly. “They know that.”

“That long?” She looked up in surprise. He’d always spoken lovingly of his big, boisterous family in Gossamer Ridge. For Abby, an only child whose parents had passed away in a car crash when she was eighteen, Luke’s stories of his wonderful, crazy family had always evoked a sense of envy. “It’s complicated.”

She tamped down an acid rush of bitterness. The job, of course. Military intel—the secrets, the lies, the constant danger all took a toll. Marriages crumbled, friends became enemies, families self-destructed.

She glanced at Stevie, sound asleep in his car seat. He was still young enough that car travel was a surefire sleep aid. At least he could sleep in peace tonight. She’d do anything to spare him even a second of fear or concern.

“We’re stopping in Yuma for the night,” Luke said. She saw his gaze fixed on the rearview mirror. Did he see Stevie in the reflection,? Could he see how Stevie’s square jaw was a carbon copy of his own??

For his first year, Stevie had looked just like her, saving her from awkward questions and convoluted explanations about his origins. But now that she saw glimpses of Luke in her son—the darkening gray eyes, his lopsided smile—she was painfully aware of how selfish she’d been to keep father and son apart just to avoid complications.

Maybe Luke hadn’t wanted her enough to stick around. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t want to know their son.

“You haven’t contacted anyone since we left my house, have you?” Luke asked. “Maybe when we stopped at the ATM?”

“No.” His sudden tension made her stomach hurt. “Why?”

His gaze darted to the rearview mirror. “That car a quarter mile back’s been with us for the last few miles. I slow down, speed up, no matter. He stays the same distance away.”

Over her shoulder, all she saw was a blur of lights. But she trusted him. “What do we do?”

“Take this exit and see what happens.” Luke whipped the Mustang into a narrow gap between a truck and a sedan just in time to take a quick right onto the off-ramp.

“Did it work?” Abby’s heart raced from the daredevil move.

“Can’t tell yet.” At the bottom of the off-ramp, Luke went right and pulled into a well-lit gas station nearby. He cut the engine by one of the pumps, keeping his eyes on the exit ramp. “You pump the gas.” He pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket and handed it to her.

Tamping down fear, Abby took money from the wallet and headed off to prepay the cashier. When she returned, she found Luke rummaging through the trunk.

“Did they follow us?” She unscrewed the cover of the Mustang’s gas tank.

“Not sure.” He closed the trunk. In his left hand, he held a small gray device with red lights at the top. One light was lit up. He showed it to her. “See that light? There’s a GPS tracking device within a twenty-five-foot radius.”

There were no other cars at the gas station, and the road was at least forty feet away. “Does your car have GPS?”

He shook his head. “I never wanted it used against me. Do you have a GPS tag on any of Stevie’s stuff?”

“I don’t let him out of my sight except to take him to Mrs. Tamburello’s while I’m working.” She returned the gas nozzle to the pump, her mind racing. “You know, I don’t know how long those men were in my apartment—”

Luke opened the driver’s door of the Mustang and shoved back the driver’s seat. Hearing Stevie’s soft whimper, she raced around to the passenger door. “What are you doing?” she demanded, glaring at Luke across the backseat.

Luke’s expression of horror was almost comical. “God, I’m sorry—I wasn’t—” He laid his hand on Stevie’s head, stroking his damp curls. “Sorry about wakin’ you up there, Little Bit.”

Stevie’s snuffling subsided. “Firsty.”

“You’re thirsty, huh?” He glanced at Abby.

“I’ll get him an apple juice.” She ran to the food mart, grabbed an apple juice from one of the coolers and added it to the gas purchase. Back at the car, Luke stood by the driver’s side door, Stevie cradled in his arms. Abby faltered, her heart stuttering at the sight of Luke’s big, muscular arms wrapped around their son.

She was going to have to tell him the truth. Soon.

Luke’s gaze locked with hers as she reached the Mustang. He held up a black device a little smaller than a credit card. “Found it inside Mr. Hoppy.” He nodded toward the small animatronic stuffed rabbit sitting on the roof of the car, its ears still wiggling and nose twitching. “Inside the pouch where the batteries are. I guess they put it there when they trashed your house.”

Her heart lurched. “So they know where we are.”

He nodded. “No wonder they didn’t risk a wreck to follow us off the interstate. They can pick us up wherever we go.”

“Throw it away!” The sensation of being watched made her skin crawl.

Luke shook his head. “I have a better idea.”

THE BUDGET ARMS MOTEL was the sort of nondescript, vaguely shabby motel a motorist could find near almost any major interstate exit. Walk-ins were welcome if there were vacancies, and some of the places didn’t even require identification as long as you could pay cash up front for the room. The only amenities would be basic cable and local phone service, if that.

Luke had stayed in worse places.

Abby, apparently, had not, judging by the look of horror on her face when Luke pulled into the motel parking lot.