Page 86 of Talk to Me

“Picking up McQuade,” Remy said. “He had to make sure no one was following him.”

Relief spilled into my veins like a plunge into icy water. I hadn’t wanted to ask. We’d left him behind and then the hospital and my confession…

Then we cruised into what looked like a rest area along the highway. One of the signs indicated we were in Texas. Well, that was something. McQuade made his way from the direction of the restrooms.

Despite wearing a cowboy hat, there was no mistaking the dark scruff on his face or the length of hair he wore loose now. For all his military background, he never went with a regulation haircut. Not that I could fault him, there was something about taking your life back—one piece at a time that I recognized.

More, I’d done some of it myself. Only in my case, it wasn’t about reclaiming a life but building a whole new one. I sighed as he dropped his bag into the trunk then slid into the backseat with me.

There were traces of dirt on his face. He smelled faintly of gun oil, graphite, and something earthier. The expression he wore lightened some as he gave me a once over.

“Sugar Bear.”

That name. An involuntary laugh escaped me and I shook my head. “That name is not going to stick.”

“You say potato,” he murmured, then winked. “How you feeling?”

“Sore, but I have antibiotics, pain meds, and I’m a little lighter on the metal components.”

The neutrality in his expression turned tense as he flicked a look to the front seat. We were already on the move again.

“A second tracker.”

A second…

“The first was just under the curve of your sweet ass,” Remy said by way of explanation. “We removed it on our way away from the facility. I scanned you. Not sure why it didn’t detect the second tracker.”

“Could have been inactive,” Locke said with a half-shrug. “But we did full body images. Active or not, we would have seen any others they may have inserted into you.”

Inserted.

Tagged with trackers like I was an animal.

Bastards.

“Thank you,” I murmured. “Thank you for getting both of them out.” With a glance at McQuade, I summoned another smile. “Thank you for covering our backs so we could get away.”

“Anytime,” he said, rolling his head from side to side. “It was fun. Though, we need real food soon. And a gallon of coffee.”

I sympathized.

“We’re going to stop somewhere after the state line,” Remy said. “Can you wait?”

Locke tossed back a protein bar that McQuade caught easily.

“Yep.” He glanced from the snack to me.

“I’m good,” I told him. “I ate one and they’re—very dry.”

He nodded once. “We’ll find real food soon.”

Neither Remy nor Locke told McQuade what I’d said, nor did they prompt me to continue. They were being very careful with me.

As much as I appreciated it, they were all still taking risks for me.

“I was just telling them about how this all began…”

While McQuade didn’t fixate or stare, I was very aware of his attention as I brought him up to date with what I’d already shared. Weird, I hadn’t vocalized any of it altogether. Not once in the five years since I erased myself.