Blue Blooded by Shelly Bell

understand the fascination of cars, but she could appreciate that Logan had traded in a beauty for something her parents would drive. Then again, Monte Carlos were so popular, they’d have no problem getting lost in a sea of commonality.
    As she got into the passenger side, he threw his duffle into the backseat with a loud thump. “What the hell is in that bag, a dead body?” she asked, only half joking.
    He sat beside her and started the engine. “It’s my go-bag.”
    â€œSeriously? You keep a go-bag in your car?”
    He shrugged. “Never know when you’re gonna witness two FBI agents assassinate a mobster.”
    In no way was this fair. While he had a go-bag and a cell phone, she had nothing other than her purse, and even she wasn’t dumb enough to use a credit card. She had exactly twenty-seven dollars cash and a package of mints to her name at this point. No change of clothes. No deodorant or toothbrush. No special hair care products to keep her thick hair from becoming a frizzy rat’s nest. Nada. But Logan had a prepared duffle full of items that would no doubt keep him looking and smelling fresh as a damned rose.
    Remembering she hadn’t eaten dinner, she unwrapped the package of mints and popped one in her mouth. She’d have to make do because obviously, stopping at the McDonalds’ drive-thru was out of the question. She held out the roll, offering it to Logan. He shook his head, declining, and fiddled with his phone.
    â€œWhere we headed?” she asked.
    â€œI’ve got an old family friend who’s a survivalist. Keeps to himself and lives out in the middle of nowhere in Florida, not too far from Port Everglades, where our friendly FBI agents are headed. We’ll be safe there until we can figure out who we’re looking for at the port.”
    He placed his iPhone into the cup holder and opened an app. Voices filled the car. She sat back and listened as the voices threw out a bunch of numbers and words she was familiar with from her job. Logan had accessed the local police scanner.
    It was only moments before she heard them mention the APB out for her and Logan, telling police to look out for a silver Mustang and that they were armed and dangerous.
    Hearing her name mentioned that way brought home the gravity of the situation. They really were being framed by the FBI for Rinaldi’s murder. But the police weren’t completely wrong. She was armed. Armed with the truth. And that made her dangerous.
    She just wished she knew whom that made her dangerous to.

Chapter Six
    â€œR ACHEL, WAKE UP .”
    Blinking at the glare of the sun, she opened her eyes and stretched, turning her head to both sides to get the crick out of her neck. They were parked at a gas pump, the store’s large sign at the entrance advertising Georgia peaches and salt licks. Beyond that was a two-lane highway with grass on both sides and not another structure in sight. “I wasn’t sleeping.”
    She’d drifted off sometime after they’d passed Atlanta, but had woken up every few minutes, the sound of gunshots still lingering in her memory. The images of Rinaldi’s blood splattering flashed like a slideshow through her mind.
    Logan chuckled. “Sure you weren’t. And you also weren’t snoring.”
    â€œI don’t snore.” No one had ever accused her of snoring. Of course, other than her sisters, she’d never slept in the same room as anyone else, and it had been years since she’d done that. “Wait, do I snore?”
    He only grinned.
    She rolled her eyes, choosing to believe he was teasing over the alternative. “Where are we?” Checking the clock on the dashboard, she calculated the time they’d been in the car. They’d left Detroit around one in the morning, and it was now six at night. Logan had to be feeling the fatigue of driving for fifteen hours without a break, but he’d insisted he was