Page 56 of Nothing to Fear

His gaze bounced from the road to the rearview mirror every twenty seconds. He needed to be sure those bloodhounds weren’t tracking them. No one followed.

“I’m good.” He glanced at the red speckles on her face. “You’ll need to clean up before we get out of the car. We’re almost there.”

“Where exactly is there?” She fished through the glove box and nabbed tissues.

“We need to steal a boat. We’re sailing to the Cayman Islands.”

Her gaze fell to her lap and she fiddled with her pearls.

He would’ve killed to have a clear read on her. “What’s wrong? Can’t swim? Hydrophobic?”

“My dad. Going to the hospital is out of the question, but…”

“Try not to worry. He’s worth more to them alive. If you’re running, he stands a chance.” The anxiety in her eyes twisted his insides. He opened his hand to her. Without hesitation, she pressed her palm to his, interlacing their fingers.

“I’ll help you through this, Willow. I swear. Not for the sake of the Gray Box but for you.” He’d do anything to keep her safe.

She gave him a brave face, letting his hand go, but her muscles stayed rigid and her body was shaking. “Did you ever suspect me of being the mole? Or was it always your plan to use me somehow to figure out who the leak is?”

What had given her that idea? “God, no. To both.”

“The only reason you asked me out and came to my house was to investigate me. Right?”

“You were on the list of suspects due to circumstances, but investigating you was a waste of time and resources. I only wanted to prove your innocence. Then false evidence turned up, and I knew I had to get you out of the Gray Box and keep you safe.”

Seeming appeased with his answers, she looked in the mirror on the visor and scrubbed the blood off her face.

He applied pressure to his wound to slow the bleeding. “Did that animal hurt you?” The way the guy had grabbed her by the hair and dragged her had been vicious.

She lowered her head, closing the visor. “We’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

Damn. One of those bastards not only put his hands on her but hurt her in the process. Fury burned his veins. “I never should’ve let him get close enough to—”

“Gideon.” She slid her hand over his thigh, and the heat in him shifted from a kill-everything blaze to a gentler warmth that softened him, derailing his thoughts.

This was the last thing he needed. He had to be on point, stay sharper and harder than the bloodthirsty animals gunning for her. But the idea of pushing her away in that moment hurt worse than the gash in his gut.

“You saved my life. Again.” She gave his leg a little squeeze, and his heart jerked hard. “I’m sorry you’re hurt because of me. You could’ve been killed.”

“This isn’t your fault. Whoever the mole is, they’re playing the long game. They’ve put in a great deal of effort and resources to frame you. To plant a next-gen locator, covering their bases in case you ran. To send a hit squad.”

And not just any hit squad but one unlike any he’d encountered. Brutal and precise. He recognized his own kind. She didn’t stand a chance alone.

“Or whoever the mole works for is doing all this,” Willow said, clutching his leg.

Made sense. The leak had to have a powerful employer, one who wanted to ensure the traitor stayed embedded in the Gray Box. Otherwise, a smart mole would’ve punched out by now.

“That’s the million-dollar question. Who is the wizard behind the curtain?”

* * *

After a twenty-minute drive, Gideon turned onto Poplar Lane and drove past the million-dollar homes along the Occoquan River. On an initial pass scanning for anything exploitable, he spotted newspapers—at least five of them sleeved in plastic—stacked in the walkway leading to the door of one house. A prime sign. That or overflowing mail was the best indicator a homeowner was on vacation. Easy enough to put that stuff on hold, but it was a common oversight made by many.

Some fools even advertised their actual status on social media. Once you found a house that might be unoccupied, it took one minute to run an address through a county property records search engine to get the owner’s name. Another five minutes stalking them on Facebook to see what exotic locale they’d chosen to frolic and play in. But he needed to see a boat firsthand.

He parked two doors from the vacant home and dug out the flathead screwdriver and hammer he’d purchased from the superstore. “Wait here.”

Their eyes caught. The anxiety exuding from her caused a weird drop in his stomach. There was little he could do to comfort her. They had to press on and get to safety on the water.