out of its column and forcibly relaxed his fingers. He couldn’t work with her if she was expecting to depend on him. She had to get out of here. Far, far away from him. He’d call Jeff when they got back to the motel and tell him to pull her off this op.
How he managed to guide the Bronco the rest of the way back to their motel, he wasn’t quite sure. It all passed in a haze of terror. He parked the vehicle and turned off the ignition. “You need to leave. Now. I’ll call Jeff and have him send a jet for you in the morning.”
“I don’t bail out on people because the going gets tough, Gray.”
“This isn’t about abandoning me. It’s about your safety. I won’t risk your life—”
“Really. Stop. I realize you’re some sort of mega-protective, do-the-right-thing type, but get over it. I’m not leaving.”
He closed his mouth on his next protest because it threatened to become a scream of agony. She didn’t understand. He couldn’t be responsible for her. Not for anybody ever again. He fought his way back to a modicum of sanity by focusing on Sammie Jo. He replayed her protest in his mind. A faint note of desperation in her voice had caught his attention. Something that said no matter how dangerous it got here, she’d rather face this than face whatever waited for her back home.
On a hunch he asked, “What are you running from?”
That stopped her cold in the act of pushing her car door open for herself. “I beg your pardon?”
He took advantage of her distraction to go around and open it for her. He took only a single step back, which forced her to slide past him at a distance of about two inches. When they were chest to chest, he repeated, “Who are you running from, Sammie Jo?”
She hesitated for an instant and then moved past him to the bungalow. As he turned on the lights, she slid a pair of sunglasses over her eyes. He stared at her featureless gaze expectantly.
“Dang, you’re good,” she commented neutrally.
“Well?”
“I just broke up with a ginormous jerk, and I happen to find a change of scenery refreshing at the moment.”
“Is he violent?”
“Possibly.”
“Psychotic?”
“Definitely.”
His heart was pounding far too hard. She needed protection, and he couldn’t possibly do it. She mustn’t depend on him. “Anything else I should know about you?” he asked tautly.
“Hey, you’re the one with all the secrets, not me,” she declared.
And that was how he planned to keep it. There were some things he would never speak of. Ever.
“Now what?” she asked, startling him.
“I don’t understand.”
“Our only lead on what this Proctor guy’s up to is dead. How do you want to proceed with investigating his cult or whatever it is?”
“After I put you on a plane in the morning, I plan to drive up into the mountains and find that road again. Then I’ll follow it and see where it leads.”
“Why wait till morning? I see great at night. I’ll be your eyes.”
And apparently, she was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at nearly 3:00 a.m. Far be it from him to admit that he was beat and would rather sleep. He picked up the car keys resolutely. “Let’s go, then.”
Finding the dirt road wasn’t hard. His sense of direction was unerring and he went right to it. But it got weird when Sammie Jo announced from the passenger seat that she’d spotted the tire tracks leaving the drop-off point. All he saw was gravel stretching away into the dark in the headlights.
“Slow down,” she ordered, leaning forward in her seat. “Okay. Go straight ahead through the intersection.”
They followed the tracks for maybe a mile. Then they ran into a paved road and the tracks turned right. But the dust had worn off the tires in a few hundred yards, and Sammie Jo shook her head in disgust. “Lost the tracks. Drat. That vehicle could have gone anywhere from here.”
“Let’s head back to the motel and get some rest. We can talk to the sheriff tomorrow and see what
How he managed to guide the Bronco the rest of the way back to their motel, he wasn’t quite sure. It all passed in a haze of terror. He parked the vehicle and turned off the ignition. “You need to leave. Now. I’ll call Jeff and have him send a jet for you in the morning.”
“I don’t bail out on people because the going gets tough, Gray.”
“This isn’t about abandoning me. It’s about your safety. I won’t risk your life—”
“Really. Stop. I realize you’re some sort of mega-protective, do-the-right-thing type, but get over it. I’m not leaving.”
He closed his mouth on his next protest because it threatened to become a scream of agony. She didn’t understand. He couldn’t be responsible for her. Not for anybody ever again. He fought his way back to a modicum of sanity by focusing on Sammie Jo. He replayed her protest in his mind. A faint note of desperation in her voice had caught his attention. Something that said no matter how dangerous it got here, she’d rather face this than face whatever waited for her back home.
On a hunch he asked, “What are you running from?”
That stopped her cold in the act of pushing her car door open for herself. “I beg your pardon?”
He took advantage of her distraction to go around and open it for her. He took only a single step back, which forced her to slide past him at a distance of about two inches. When they were chest to chest, he repeated, “Who are you running from, Sammie Jo?”
She hesitated for an instant and then moved past him to the bungalow. As he turned on the lights, she slid a pair of sunglasses over her eyes. He stared at her featureless gaze expectantly.
“Dang, you’re good,” she commented neutrally.
“Well?”
“I just broke up with a ginormous jerk, and I happen to find a change of scenery refreshing at the moment.”
“Is he violent?”
“Possibly.”
“Psychotic?”
“Definitely.”
His heart was pounding far too hard. She needed protection, and he couldn’t possibly do it. She mustn’t depend on him. “Anything else I should know about you?” he asked tautly.
“Hey, you’re the one with all the secrets, not me,” she declared.
And that was how he planned to keep it. There were some things he would never speak of. Ever.
“Now what?” she asked, startling him.
“I don’t understand.”
“Our only lead on what this Proctor guy’s up to is dead. How do you want to proceed with investigating his cult or whatever it is?”
“After I put you on a plane in the morning, I plan to drive up into the mountains and find that road again. Then I’ll follow it and see where it leads.”
“Why wait till morning? I see great at night. I’ll be your eyes.”
And apparently, she was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at nearly 3:00 a.m. Far be it from him to admit that he was beat and would rather sleep. He picked up the car keys resolutely. “Let’s go, then.”
Finding the dirt road wasn’t hard. His sense of direction was unerring and he went right to it. But it got weird when Sammie Jo announced from the passenger seat that she’d spotted the tire tracks leaving the drop-off point. All he saw was gravel stretching away into the dark in the headlights.
“Slow down,” she ordered, leaning forward in her seat. “Okay. Go straight ahead through the intersection.”
They followed the tracks for maybe a mile. Then they ran into a paved road and the tracks turned right. But the dust had worn off the tires in a few hundred yards, and Sammie Jo shook her head in disgust. “Lost the tracks. Drat. That vehicle could have gone anywhere from here.”
“Let’s head back to the motel and get some rest. We can talk to the sheriff tomorrow and see what
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