Page 78 of Talk to Me

Trusting them cracked more of the glass between me and the rest of the world.

McQuade would find us. Remy would take care of any targets that appeared between us and their exit strategy. Locke would never drop me.

That certainty erupted from beneath the debris my capture, incarceration, and torture left behind. Enemies had targeted me, located me, and stolen me from the safe haven I’d carved out for myself.

That haven was gone. I’d have to build again. I’d have to do it better so they couldn’t find me the next time. But the experience also proved to me there were at least three people who gave a damn enough to find me. They were still fighting for me.

The farther we raced from the house, the more distant the gunfire became. Something blazed bright in the distance. Even with my eyes closed and my face angled down, it made me wince away from the sudden flare.

“Definitely lost the deposit,” Locke grunted as he slowed. He was barely winded. A door opened. I swore my heart had to be racing faster than his. “Putting you in the car sweetheart,” he said, his grip shifting so he could rub my back gently.

It took a moment for the words to register like I was on some kind of internet delay, a few seconds behind when he said it and when it reached me.

“Oh.” I should apologize but it took effort to unpeel my grip from him. I was shaking violently. Adrenaline and reaction kicking in.

“It’s fine,” Locke said as he set me down into the backseat of what looked like a dark SUV. “More than fine. You feel good plastered against me.”

Heat scalded my face, and thankfully, there were no lights on inside the vehicle.

“Go,” Remy ordered and Locke moved to the driver’s seat, then Remy nudged me over in the backseat.

“Will McQuade really be alright?” I trusted him to save himself. He’d gotten out of some truly heinous situations in the past, but this—this felt different.

“He’s too much of an asshole not to,” Locke said, his voice light. The car started almost silently. Remy reached across me and gripped a seat belt then pulled it over me before he pushed the shoulder strap behind me.

“I need you to lay down,” he said, his touch light. “I want your head below line of sight.”

I glanced at him and his lap then back up.

“Yes,” he said. “Normally, I’d put you in the well but if we have to do offensive driving that will risk you getting hurt more. Once you lay down, I’ll pull the blanket over you.”

I licked my lips again cause we were already moving. Locke was driving straight out, no lights, nothing. There had been a lot of trees, I hoped he could see where he was going.

My heart slammed a bruising cadence against my ribs. We didn’t have time to argue this. “Okay,” I said and then ignored my own bruises to lay down. Before I made it a single inch though, Remy caught my chin in a grip so gentle and light it was barely there—yet it seemed to burn its imprint on my soul.

“I’d like a little luck of my own,” he whispered scant seconds before his mouth sealed over mine. It was swift, hot, and absolutely breath stealing. The swipe of his tongue left its own brand on me and my lips tingled in the aftermath as he raised his head. “Yes, definitely feeling luckier now.”

He tucked me against him and I pressed my cheek against his leg all too aware of how even more intimate this positioning was. As promised, he draped a blanket over me and then touched a hand lightly to my shoulder.

“We’ve got this,” he said. “You’re safe.”

“You have this,” I repeated.

I’d keep repeating it mentally until I believed it.

They had this.

Chapter

Twenty-Five

REMINGTON

Planning ahead for an exit came second nature to McQuade. We’d removed the tracker from her, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more. Clearly, how the bloody hell else did they locate us so swiftly?

Aware of her cheek where it rested on my thigh and the helmet edge that dug into the muscle, I had to fight the urge to put a hand on her. I wanted to offer her comfort, but right now, I needed my attention on our surroundings. Especially when I could still taste her on my lips.

Sweet, yet intense. The heat was almost a cold sting and I wanted to savor it.