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“Cops can’t help,” Baer confirmed.
Dane flopped in his seat so that he was facing forward. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Can you at least truthfully tell me if you’re outlaws? Are-are there warrants out for you?”
“We’re not outlaws,” Baer quickly answered. “No warrants.”
Clay bit his tongue. He couldn’t honestly answer that. He didn’t think there were any warrants out for his arrest, but he wasn’t one hundred percent sure. Escaping the motel that night with Jo, he was fairly certain no one knew he’d stayed there and left behind at least two dead bodies. Sure, Jo had been responsible for the corpses, but no one knew about her appearance but him. The cops could be blaming him for the corpses.
But he couldn’t tell Dane all that. At least, not right now.
Reaching his hand between the seats, Clay touched Dane’s arm. His skin was cool thanks to the wind whipping past them. “I’ve knocked some people around as a bouncer in the past, but I’ve never seriously injured a human being. I’ve never made or sold drugs. I’ve never sold my body. I’ve never stolen so much as a candy bar, and I’ve had some really hungry nights in my past.”
Dane looked over at him, his expression so damn serious. Those eyes had placed Clay’s soul on a scale, and he held his breath as Dane weighed his sins. It was the longest two seconds of his life, but he felt so much lighter when Dane finally nodded his acceptance.
“That’s enough for now,” Dane murmured.
“Thank you. I swear, we’ll talk soon.”
Dane frowned again and pulled his arm away from Clay’s fingers. “I don’t think I fucking want to know anymore. This whole night has been a mistake.”
Clay’s spine hit the seat and he pressed his hand to his chest to check for the hole he felt there. It was like he’d taken one of those fucking bullets straight to the heart. How could he regret what happened before the pestilents showed up? They’d been having fun, and he certainly hadn’t forced Dane to do anything he didn’t want to do. Sure, things had quickly gone straight to hell after that, but that wasn’t Clay’s fault. What the fuck!
“As fun as all this is,” Grey sneered, jerking Clay’s thoughts away from Dane and to the steady ping of bullets still pelting Baer’s Jeep. “What the fuck are we going to do about them? I’m assuming you’re not going to simply lure them to your place.”
Okay, so maybe new guy had a good point, not that Clay was in any kind of mood to admit that to Grey. Things had soured pretty damn quick, but Clay was starting to think they should never have left the plantation house.
Looking up, he met Baer’s questioning gaze in the rearview mirror. “You’re up. I’m driving,” Baer said with a crooked, sympathetic smile.
Yeah, Clay was up. Baer knew exactly what he was asking. Clay was struggling with his damn powers. He lacked any kind of reliable control. Using his powers was as likely to kill them as they were to save them at that moment.
But they had to do something. They couldn’t pull over and try to take them on in hand-to-hand combat. Dane could get hurt, and they had no idea what Grey’s skills were. If he really was a Weaver, they couldn’t risk him getting killed when he was now so close to getting his powers. God, please let them be something good like fire.
But until Grey was more useful and Baer wasn’t stuck behind the wheel, he was their best and only hope of escape.
Keeping his head low, Clay scanned the road ahead of them. There weren’t too many cars on the road, but he had to be cautious. He didn’t want to put them at risk as well. Or at least no more risk than they were already at.
They reached a straight stretch with a large blank space between cars, and the telephone poles changed from the newer steel ones to some older timber beams. Yeah, this could work.
“Get ready,” Clay said.
He unbuckled his seat belt and twisted around in the seat so that he was facing the car racing to catch them. A figure was hanging out the rear driver’s side window. There was an occasional bright flash followed by a bang as the creature continued to fire at them.
Something tugged on the back of his shirt, and Clay looked to see Dane had grabbed his shirt, his eyes wide. “What the hell are you planning?”
“It’ll be okay.”
“Clay!”
“Hold on and keep your head down,” Clay instructed, and he was impressed by his calm tone. It would be okay because he would do anything to keep Dane safe.
As he started to turn to look out the rear, his eyes snagged on Grey beside him, bent low. His narrowed silver-gray eyes were watching him sharply. Not trusting exactly, but curious and probably more than a little disbelieving. If they survived all this, at least he had a chance of understanding it all when it was over.
