Page 21 of Defending You
Her kindness and gratitude surprised him. But they shouldn’t have.
He’dchanged 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.”
