Page 92 of Running to You

“Do you think they do have access to—?”

“I have no idea. Maybe, but I can’t take the chance. I have to get there. Soon.”

“What’s the rush?”

“The sooner this is over, the sooner your family will be out of danger. And me and you.”

“All right. You’re right. I could ask Derrick to fly us.”

“Didn’t Grant say he was on a trip? Florida, right?” He’d made the comment offhandedly during lunch.

“Right. I forgot.”

She hated to do this, especially considering they were in central New Hampshire, but… “My passport is at Mom’s house.”

Sam groaned. He said nothing for a stretched-out moment. Then… “We were almost killed there, Eliza.”

“I know.”

“If they’re watching the house—”

“I don’t know what else to do. I have to get to Denver. Even if I had a car—or a license—it would take days to drive to Colorado. My passport’s still good, and I need an ID. You can drop me off at the end of the street, and I’ll go myself.”

“Right.” The word dripped with sarcasm. “That’s gonna happen.” He was quiet for a moment, then, “At least Tweedledee and Tweedledum are in custody. It’ll be nice to test out my fighting skills on fresh meat.”

He was kidding. She knew that, but still…

This was a dangerous move.

He handed her his phone. “Put in your address.”

She did and studied the map. An hour to York. Then another hour-plus to Boston. Add to that the time they’d spend at Mom’s house. Best-case scenario, they’d get to the safe house around eight thirty.

Assuming they weren’t killed or kidnapped between now and then.

“I have an idea,” she said.

“Does it involve me driving to Vermont?” He was angling onto the interstate. “Maybe a pitstop in Montreal?”

“Are you always so grumpy?”

He flicked a gaze her way, a tiny smile on his lips. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

The understatement of the century. She hadn’t slept well the night before, and she’d heard Sam awake a long time after she’d…what had he called it? Accosted him?

She didn’t have mental energy for the shame that tried to consume her. At least now she remembered the truth. That she was forgiven. That God loved her anyway.

That thought wiggled a memory free. MC. She could hear his voice. He’d been all business on the phone, but she’d trusted him immediately. Now she knew why.

Michael sounded so much like Sam.

They’d messaged each other, and the messages had been more personal.

Romantic?

No. Not romantic. Spiritual. He was the one who’d told her about Christ. She could see the words on the page, words she’d heard over and over, all her life from her father and in church. But she’d never understood. She hadn’t thought God would want her, but the way MC had talked about Him…

She’d been desperate enough, and lonely enough, to reach out to God. And God had reached right back.