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“To make sure they don’t have a tracker on it?” I googled what trackers look like when I was at the rest stop in Tennessee. Sam didn’t go over that with me. But he talked about how you can be tracked.
“How do you know about trackers?”
“Books. TV. A little from Sam.” Those lips turn up in amusement, and my stomach tightens. “You’ve got to believe me.”
“I believe you.” He taps my leg. “You’re safe here, okay? I’m gonna go out, check the car, get your stuff, and then you’re going to get a shower and some sleep while I do some research. Sound like a plan?”
CHAPTER 3
Knox
Holy shit, Sam. What the hell were you up to?
I get telling his sisters to come to me if they’re in trouble. Totally normal to leave instructions to those you love, should something happen. When you’re on a team, the unexpected is always possible. But guns? Avoiding airports? Ten grand in cash?
And Sloane’s missing?
She was two years younger than me, and I didn’t know her that well. But, according to Sam, she’d been studious. Pretty sure she went all the way and got her PhD in some brainiac science.
While I never knew her well, Sloane is Sage’s last living close relative. Given all of Sage’s childhood health issues, there’s no way she wouldn’t leave a way for Sage to reach her. Not willingly. Of course, by the same logic, it’s unbelievable that she’d move to another country and leave Sage behind.
People change.
There’s no denying life’s truths.
People also make mistakes.
After exiting my apartment, leaving Millie and Sage safely indoors, I scan the street. Visually search the parked cars for anyone sitting innocuously inside. Scour the front yards for a seemingly benign flower sniffer or a beggar blending into the streetscape. No suspicious persons. All clear.
In the Bronco, a crumpled Time Out bag and an empty cup with a straw clutter the front passenger seat. There’s also a frayed sweatshirt she won’t be needing during our heat wave. I lift it and shake it. Nothing. Of course, there’s nothing. What did I expect would fall out?
In the back, I locate the black duffel. Typical go bag. A go bag for his sister. What the hell, Sam?
Under the spare wheel panel is a Glock 17, unloaded. A SIG P365, unloaded. Can she even shoot these? Four boxes of ammo. She shoved them in this space with no care. At least the guns were unloaded.
After placing everything inside the duffel, I zip it up, close the back, and do a cursory inspection of the undercarriage. All clear.
Sage drove across the country. At the direction of her brother who has been dead for almost two years. I shake my head as I step back from the car. A conversation stirs in my memory.
“Hey, man, I let my sisters know if something happens to me, and they need anything?—”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
“I know, I’m just saying…you’re the one I’m sending them to.”
“Honored.” I clapped a hand over my chest and looked him straight in the eye. “But nothing’s going to happen to you.”
Where were we? The timing is fuzzy. We were on base. Maybe. Coronado?
Why not an aunt or an uncle? I didn’t give it a second thought. Was Sloane into something that had him suspecting they might one day need protection? Or Sam? But no, Sam as the reason doesn’t add up. The explosion occurred two years ago. Whatever is going on can’t possibly be related to him.
Of course, if Sage knew the truth about her brother’s death, I’d be the last person she’d come to for help.
The sun shines over the San Rafael mountain peaks. It’s early morning, hours before noon. The golden yellow ball beats down from a flawless blue sky.
It feels like Sam might be up there, looking down on me. Watching to ensure I step up. Honor my word. Protect his kin. Repay him.
As I re-enter my place with the black duffel strap slung over my shoulder, it’s with a steadfast determination to help Sam’s sisters. Both of them.
