Page 12 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

“Wonderful,” I mumbled. “So, I’m sunburned, dehydrated, and apparently being hunted by a man who owns half the state.”

Webb’s jaw clenched. “You should’ve told someone sooner.”

“Iwas going to,” I snapped. “After I got to the middle-of-nowhere ranch and was maybe rehydrated enough to string two sentences together.”

“Instead, you gave us the discount version about debt collectors.”

“Would you have believed me if I led withcement corpse?”

Marcus held up a hand. “She has a point.”

Webb muttered something that sounded a lot like "unbelievable," but I saw the way his eyes scanned me again—like he was reevaluating something, shifting from irritated to a protective wolf on high alert.

I looked at both of them, then sighed. “Well, aren’t you both glad I came?”

Marcus ran a hand over his face and sighed, “Thrilled.”

Webb crossed his arms and looked at me like I’d already caused him a migraine that would last until Christmas.

“Your crapped-out Camry’s being picked up,” he said. “I'm having the guys bring it here so we can stash it somewhere out of sight.”

“Wow, thanks. I guess that explains why the search party I imagined never came.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it.

I took another sip of my now-slightly-less-cooling water. “I sent three copies of the files. They're encrypted and stored on different servers. All of them were sent to people I trust—two for sure and one who’s so paranoid he lives off-grid and doesn’t believe that birds are real.

Webb stared at me. “Bird guy?”

“He’s shockingly good with computers.”

Webb exhaled and muttered, “Okay, so the files are safe.” Then, with all the subtlety of someone declaring war on his weekend plans, he added, “So now I’m going to hideyou.”

Before I could respond, he and Marcus were already deep in the plans.

“No good keeping her at the ranch,” Marcus mused, scratching his jaw. “They’ll trace her here. Especially if they’ve figured out the family connection.”

“They will,” Webb agreed. “They’ve got the resources. They’ll know Sasha’s family tree by now, so this place’ll be watched.”

Marcus grunted. “Cabo?”

Webb snorted. “Sure, let’s fly her straight into a tourist trap with her own passport. Brilliant idea, dipshit.”

“I was beingtheoretical.” Marcus sounded insulted at the possibility his mind wasn't the devious wonderland he thought it was.

“Alaska?” Webb tossed out.

“Yeah, okay. She’ll blend right in with the bears.”

I sat there, blinking between them, and slowly raised a hand like a student in a very unhinged classroom.

Marcus snapped his fingers. “Adrienne’s family still has that place in Italy?—”

“—which she’d need herpassportfor,” Webb cut in. “Unless we want her arrested at the airport under a fake identity, and then we’re really up shit creek.”

“Ugh,right,” Marcus agreed, dragging a hand through his hair.

Meanwhile, I perked up. “Wait, Italy?I could go to Italy. I couldabsolutelylay low in Tuscany with a glass of wine andmaybe some mozzarella therapy. Do you know what that would do for my stress levels?”

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