Hidden Agenda by Lisa Harris Page B

the repercussions of whatever it was he’d done to invoke her father’s anger. There had to be a logical explanation. Michael had to have done something . . . and whatever that something was didn’t need to affect her and her brother.
    Michael stirred in the backseat.
    She glanced in the rearview mirror as he struggled to sit up. She was glad he was awake. There were questions she needed to ask. “You’re awake.”
    â€œGroggy, but yeah. For the most part. Where are we?”
    â€œAbout halfway between the coast and Atlanta.”
    â€œWhat time is it?”
    Olivia glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “Just past nine.”
    She passed a sign for the next rest stop and changed her plan to push nonstop to Atlanta. He’d need another round of painkillers soon, and all of them had missed supper. Maybe before she started throwing her mountain of questions at him, they should grab something to eat and stretch their legs.
    â€œAre you hungry?” she asked.
    â€œYeah, I actually am.”
    â€œThere’s a rest stop coming in a mile known for their wide range of vending machines.”
    He laughed at her weak attempt to lighten the mood. “That works for me.”
    A minute later, Olivia clicked on her blinker and pulled into the quiet rest stop, choosing a secluded spot in the parking lot, beneath a row of shade trees. She’d tried to ensure they hadn’t been followed, but knowing there could be armed men after them left her nerves on edge.
    Ivan woke up beside her as she turned on the dome light and started rummaging through her backpack for some money.
    â€œHungry?” she signed.
    Ivan nodded, then offered to go grab a few things to hold them over until they could get some real food.
    â€œAny preferences?” she asked Michael.
    â€œA drink to take some more pain medicine, and some kind of energy bar would be great.”
    Olivia gave Ivan the order, then glanced again in the rearview mirror as Ivan exited the car. A semi was pulling off the freeway. Ahead, a woman walked her dog in the light of a streetlamp. Olivia shifted in her seat and stretched out the muscles in her back, tight more from the stress of the day than from driving.
    She turned sideways until she was facing Michael, then gripped the top of the seat with her fingers. “Before we go any further, I need to know what’s going on.”
    â€œOkay. Ask me what you need to know, and I’ll tell you.”
    Her defenses dropped slightly, uncertain if he was being truthful or simply trying to placate her.
    â€œYou told me you couldn’t go to the authorities,” she said. “You also told me you were an undercover cop, but for a cop, you sure seem to be doing a lot of running.”
    â€œI’ve crossed a few people along the way, and now it’s not safe.”
    Not safe? Really. She’d just seen the body of a man who’d been executed in cold blood by her father’s henchmen, and as far as she knew, the same men were after them. “Not safe” seemed to be a bit of an understatement at the moment.
    â€œYou’re going to have to give me a whole lot more than that, because now my brother’s life and mine are at stake. Why don’t we start with the dead man in the cottage? Did you know him?”

    Michael leaned back against the headrest, ready to deny that he knew Kendall, then stopped. Had he gotten that used totelling lies? Whatever person he’d become, whatever game he’d been playing, he was going to have to find a way to get out.
    â€œYeah, I knew him. His name was Sam Kendall. He had a wife and two boys.” He shot her a wry grin. “He loved playing golf, though he was terrible at it.”
    â€œI’m sorry he’s dead.”
    â€œMe too. He was a good man.”
    â€œThen why was he there?”
    Michael considered her questions, wondering how much information he needed to give her. Because she