Page 10 of August

“Back to your earlier question,” August began, wanting to stuff aside the logistics of his near future. “I’d also like to know how the cartel found you. I mean, in the government’s defense, it’s extremely unlikely there was a leak that led the cartel to you. I don’t think many people have ever gotten to a witness protection victim.” He slid a suspicious glance her way. “Not anyone who’s been careful and followed their rules.”

Gigi squirmed in her seat. “Yes, well. I did everything Joe told me to and was careful to follow the rules.”

“Every rule?” August pressed. Her words said one thing but her body language screamed another.

She twirled a lock of brown hair. “Every rule... within reason.”

He shook his head and swore under his breath. “What the hell did you do?”

“Hey,” she snapped. “Don’t use that tone with me.”

“You’re guilty of something, so spill it.”

She heaved. “Fine. I sent a postcard to Ivy. But, I mean, god. There’s no way that’s what led them to me. I didn’t use a return address. I didn’t even sign the damn thing! I wrote a vague message in the bottom corner that you’d need a magnifying glass to read. Hell, I bet Ivy threw it out thinking it was junk mail.”

“Mm-hmm,” August drawled. “And when did you send this incriminating letter?”

“It wasn’t a letter!”

“Recently, I take it.”

Gigi let out a hiss of frustration. “You’re impossible. Three freaking weeks ago. So, what, the cartel works for the U.S. Postal Service? That’s the only way they’d even know—”

“You’d be surprised by the lengths madmen will go to in order to silence people.”

She flung her hands in the air. “I don’t need to be silent. They could just forget all about me and everything would be fine and dandy. But no, they’ve got a grudge.”

“Cartels tend to hold grudges,” he said flatly.

“Whatever. It’s my fault.” Her tone had changed. Sadness clung to her words.

“What’s done is done.”

“Tell that to Joe.” She sniffed. “He only tried to protect me. I knew I shouldn’t have sent the card. I just thought...” Her voice grew impossibly small. “I just thought it was harmless. Without an address, I—”

He sent a glance her way. She was running her fingers under her eyes. Tears glistened on her fingertips. The sight tugged on his heartstrings.

Dammit, she shouldn’t have this effect on him. He hated that she was hurting. Hated that she blamed herself for Sherry and Joe. She hadn’t asked for any of this and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to take it away. He couldn’t even comfort her. Doing so would only put him in the danger zone. He was powerless when it came to distraught women, weaker still with Gigi.

He had to keep her at arm’s length of it killed him or she’d rip out his heart like she’d done two years ago. So instead of pulling over the fucking car and holding her when she needed human contact, when she needed comfort and connection...

He kept his gaze on the road and his mouth in a firm line like the pathetic coward he was.

CHAPTER 4

Sun streamed through the windshield. Gigi’s eyes were heavy as she fought to keep the rays from burning her retinas. They’d been driving for about five hours and were passing through Rock Springs, Wyoming. The air was thick with fatigue. Her own and August’s. His arm was slumped on the console between them, and he was constantly rubbing his face. He seemed to be struggling to stay awake.

“We’re gonna stop for a bit,” he said. “I need to sleep. I was up most of the night. We’ll rest and get back on the road tomorrow.”

She nodded, for once not disagreeing with him. Rest sounded like a stellar idea, and hopefully food would come with it. The idea of putting anything in her stomach made her abdomen clench with nausea, but she knew this was a result of being desperately overtired and hungry.

Part of her wanted to ask where exactly they’d head once they got on the road again tomorrow. He’d said Seattle, but where? Would he stay with her after they arrived? He was probably resistant to the idea of returning home, maybe even needed to get the okay from Rami. After all, the last time she’d been in town, her presence—and Todd’s—had cost people their lives.

She needed to see her sister, though. This deep ache in her bones was currently greater than anything on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Being with her twin, seeing her, touching her, was as vital to Gigi’s survival as food, water, and air.

Only her twin would understand the daily struggle of being separated from the other half of her soul.

A little over an hour later, they passed a sign that read Welcome to Evanston. “Can we stop here?” If she didn’t get horizontal pronto, she might die.

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