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Casar slams on the brakes and shifts into park. Almost instantly, a Z soldier appears at the front bumper. Casar looks at the Z and then over his shoulder at me. “We’re stopping, why?”

Layla starts screaming. Casar, Maddox, and the Z in front of the car—all pass out.

“That would be why we stopped,” I mumble, reaching for Layla. I have to get her out of here before the Zs send in a human convoy to finish the job they started. Or, I think grimly, just unload a couple machine guns into the car.

Chapter twelve

Layla

The man with the knife falls on top of me. I scream again and scramble backward in the seat just as strong arms circle me, the familiar, oddly safe scent of Jensen insinuating into my nostrils, the feel of him close, his voice near my ear from behind as he whispers, “Easy, baby.”

He reaches around me and shoves aside the man’s body so that he leans against the door away from me. I fight the sense of comfort that Jensen’s voice and touch offer, unsure if I can trust him, wanting desperately not to be alone in whatever is happening to me, but not to be tricked or taken advantage of. Every time Jensen is near, I wake up in a strange place, and I don’t remember how I got there.

That thought sends me whirling around, my hand on his chest as I shove him away. Confused. Uncertain. Stating the obvious and wanting a reaction. “I’m in a car, and I have no idea how I got here. There’s a man holding a giant knife that he intends to use on me. Explain that to me, Jensen.”

“I will explain,” he promises, as his cellphone rings. He snatches it from his belt and holds up a finger to me as he snaps it to his ear and speaks.

“The sedative wore off,” he informs his caller. “Everyone is down but me.” His gaze goes to me. “In her arm. Yes. I’ll deal with it and contact you upon completion.”

I’m gaping at him when he hangs up. “You sedated me?” I demand. “You sedated me and then—” I stop, thinking of his conversation, and urgently pat down my arms. A bad feeling twists in my stomach. “What’s in my arm?” Panic starts to form, and I repeat the question before he can answer. “What is in my arm, Jensen?”

His hands go to my shoulders. “A laser-inserted tracking device. That’s how the Zodius found you in that warehouse last night, and that’s how they found us in the motel. And yes, I sedated you when they attacked. The Renegades can’t protect you if they are lying flat on their backs like they are now. Julian has human followers. They’ll come for you, which means we have to move, and we have to move now.”

He reaches for the door. I grab his arm. “Out there? Where they can shoot at us?”

“Not us,” he corrects. “Me. You stay where you are. Somebody has to drive us out of here.”

He exits the car and I barely contain my need to pull him back, my fingers digging into my palms. I hold my breath, waiting for gunfire, waiting for him to drop dead. Instead, I blink and he’s shoving the driver out of the door, and climbing inside.

“Hold on,” he warns, placing the car in drive and peeling out.

With the acceleration, the man in the backseat tumbles on me, and I yelp.

“What’s wrong?” Jensen demands, eyeing me through the rearview mirror.

With effort, I heave the man off of me, thankful for the ICE-induced strength, only to have another wild turn flop the man’s body right back on top of me. “What’s wrong?” I demand, as he screeches around a corner. “You’re driving! Can you not get us killed?”

Thankfully, the wild ride seems over. Jensen turns into the parking garage of a major casino, driving several floors before parking on a busy level.

Nervously, I glance around the lot, feeling as if we just cornered ourselves with nowhere to go. And I would say so, but Jensen is back on his phone.

“Red Dragon Hotel,” he indicates to whoever he’s talking to at present. “Fourth level,” he adds. “Hurry. We’re abandoning ship and leaving Maddox and Casar inside.” He disconnects, reaching for his door, pausing to look at me. “Stay low and out of sight, while I get us a car.”

I nod.

He’s already outside, slamming the door. I drop to the floor. My heart is thundering in my chest for what feels like a lifetime but must be only minutes. Jensen opens my door, helps me out and in what can’t be more than two minutes later, we’re sitting inside a Toyota with the engine running. “You stole it.”

“I borrowed it,” he assures me.

“I never thought I’d see the day I’d be willing to steal a car.”

“Borrowing it,” he repeats, cutting me a sideways look as he accelerates. “Buckle up.”

After the way he’s been driving, I don’t argue. I’m buckled in seconds. “Can’t they use that tracking device to follow us?” I ask, studying his profile and finding comfort in the ease at which he handles the wheel, the road. The danger.

“Until we get it out of your arm.” He pauses and adds, “Yes.”

I assume there will be a doctor waiting for me at our destination. I don’t want to know more than that now. The stolen—correction—borrowed car, the running from the Zodius, the man beside me who makes me want to trust him when I’m not sure what to make of him—that’s all plenty.