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I glanced at Adrian, who was staring resolutely out the windshield. “I take it you’ve lost someone too?”
His expression clouded. “Yeah.”
“Was it your teammates?”
Adrian’s face darkened further. “I wasn’t around when Roger died, but I saw when Cuddy passed. And he wasn’t the first,” he said. It was like watching him fight himself. He kept tensing his hands and jaw, like the words were getting caught in his throat. I got the sense that he wanted to tell me, but that it was something he usually kept to himself, to the point where he struggled to even find the words.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” I said. “It’s not my business.”
“It’s fine,” Adrian assured me. Then the words poured out in a rush, like he’d broken through a dam that had been holding them back. “My parents were killed in a home invasion.”
My heart panged in my chest. “That’s awful. I’m so?—”
“I was there,” he cut me off. His gaze was faraway, like he was remembering something that he didn’t want to. “My mom hid me in the closet, and I watched them shoot her because she refused to tell them where her jewelry was…because it was in the closet with me.”
My eyes stung. I wasn’t normally a crier—the past few days excepted—but it broke my heart to think of Adrian’s mother protecting her son at all costs. “Your mother was a brave woman.”
He cracked a small smile. “That she was. A real spitfire, actually.” Adrian’s voice was thick with emotion, and I reached across and took his free hand, entwining our fingers.
Adrian jolted, almost tore himself away from me, but then his hand relaxed in mine. His thumb played across my knuckles absently. It was incredibly gentle, like the kisses we’d shared the night before, and my belly filled with champagne bubbles. It felt intimate again, like we were sharing something important even if it was quiet between us.
I wanted to ask if he was feeling it too, but the words wouldn’t come. I was afraid to burst the quiet bubble that we’d found ourselves in. Before I could come up with what to say, the burner phone Nate had gotten for us in Tupelo began to ring. It made us both jump and pulled our hands apart.
Adrian reached for the phone—it had been put in the cupholder when we left Birmingham—and checked the ID. “It’s Gabe.” He pressed the green Talk button. “Pierce,” he said by way of greeting.
The phone was connected to the car’s Bluetooth. Gabe’s voice came through the speakers loud and clear. “Adrian, do your coworkers know what you’re doing right now?” Gabe asked.
“I took vacation leave,” Adrian said. “They think I’m on a fishing trip. Why?”
“Because I’m at Zach’s place, and someone claiming to be an FBI agent just showed up here looking for you.”
“Who was it? What did their badge say?”
Gabe made a disgruntled sound. “He just flashed it at me; I can’t confirm that it was real.”
Fear gripped me. “It might be legit. Hayes has people in the government,” I said. “Ones who work for him. The US Marshal who was my contact when Elias and I first came to America, he was working with Hayes. He told him where we were.”
Adrian didn’t like it, that was clear, but he knew I was right. Hayes’s reach was vast. “What did he say, Gabe?”
“That he needed to speak with you about an urgent case,” he said. “But he didn’t give us a name.”
“Shit. He’s probably watching the house.”
“That’s what we thought,” Gabe said. “I think we have to wait a day or two before we leave. Just to be safe.”
Adrian swore under his breath. “That’s for the best,” he agreed, though I could see the tension in his body. “We’ll wait for you at the motel we picked.”
“All right,” Gabe said. “Be safe.”
“You too.”
Adrian hung up. His hands gripped the steering wheel hard, and I saw him wince. “You should let me drive for a while,” I suggested. “Your shoulder?—”
“My shoulder is fine,” Adrian grunted, but he flinched when he made to switch lanes to pull around a car going far too slowly for the interstate.
I huffed. “Tell me again how fine you feel,” I said.
Adrian’s jaw clenched, and he kept driving for another twenty minutes, wincing every time he had to shift the wheel. Finally, defeated, he pulled into the nearest gas station. “You drive,” he said.
