I step over Dmitri’s body and move toward the doorway. Two men lie near the truck with rifle wounds punched through them. One of them twitches, and Beau finishes him.
Beau scans the truck again. He steps inside through the side door, and his rifle is still up.
“He’s not here.”
Fuck.
Grant never planned to be here.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and check the screen. The tracker dot moves across the map, and it is not coming toward the house. It is heading for the highway. Right toward the van.
Beau looks at the tracker. “Fuck!”
Brooke is already moving down the stairs and dialing Travis.
The line rings. No answer.
“Travis!” Brooke's eyes fill with panic when it goes to voicemail.
The dot keeps moving, steady, and it follows the same road the van took.
“He’s behind them.”
It locks into place. Grant never wanted us dead here. He wanted us far enough away that we couldn't protect them.
I grab the keys and move for the truck, and Brooke and Beau are right behind me.
The engine roars to life. Gravel sprays as we tear out of the driveway.
Chapter 71
The van’s headlights cut a narrow path through trees and the empty shoulder. Twenty minutes have passed since they left the house. Naomi keeps checking the mirrors, then the kids, then the mirrors again. Travis keeps both hands on the wheel, eyes forward, trying to drive normal when nothing feels normal.
Elise sits rigid in the back seat, shoulders lifted and arms folded tight. Ryan leans forward between the seats, tracking every passing sign and every break in the tree line. Krueger paces in the limited space behind the back row, leash clipped to a metal anchor in the cargo area. He tries to push toward the doors anyway, but the leash stops him short each time. Luna sits in her carrier on the seat near Naomi, eyes open, body still, ears turning toward every sound.
Naomi exhales hard. “I hate this.”
Travis doesn’t look at her. “I know, I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
Naomi smirks, “It’s okay, at least I get to spend more time trauma bonding with you.”
Travis slowly reaches for her hand. Naomi laces her fingers in his.
The road is quiet and dark until red and blue lights flash in the mirrors.
Travis’s grip tightens on the wheel.
Naomi turns in her seat, eyes wide and fast.“Shit, is that the police?”
“Fuck,” Travis says.
The patrol vehicle closes the distance without hesitation. The lights stay on. The vehicle stays close, holding their bumper in its glare.
Krueger lifts his head and growls. He surges forward again and hits the end of the leash. The clip snaps him back. He fights it anyway, muscles tight, body twisting, trying to get between the kids and whatever is behind them.
Naomi’s voice goes sharp. “We should pull over.”
Travis shakes his head once. “No.”
