I can’t hold the connection . . .the woman who had made the long-distance contact between them said, and suddenly there was silence inside Craig’s head—leaving him dazed and confused.
Jake Harper swore aloud as he picked up his wife from the couch. Lowering himself to a sitting position, he cradled her limp body in his lap.
“You hurt yourself,” he whispered, as he stroked his hands over her back and shoulders.
“I’m . . . okay,” Rachel managed to say.
“You . . .”
She closed her eyes and clung to him. “They had information to give each other—and I was the only way they could do it.”
“And now you’re going to stay away from them,” he said in a hard voice.
“They may need us.”
“I’m not going to lose you because you feel some sort of obligation to two strangers.”
She raised her head and looked at him. “Jake, they’re two of Dr. Solomon’s children.”
“So were Kira and Mickey,” he bit out, referring to the telepaths who had tried to kill them.
“Craig and Stephanie are different. They’re good people. They just want to be free to live their lives.”
“And we can stay clear of them.”
“Maybe that’s not going to work.”
“Maybe it has to,” Jake said, punching out the words. He tipped Rachel’s body so that she was looking up at him. “I was along for the ride on that mental conference call. Something you’re not saying is that someone was after Craig. Not Reynard’s men. There’s something else going on.”
He saw her swallow. “Yes.”
“Maybe someone who knows about the clinic.”
She gave a small nod.
“Wellington and Solomon are dead. So who is it?”
Craig braced his hand against the wall, fighting to stay on his feet. His head was swimming like he’d just suffered a blow to the jaw. But he didn’t care.
He knew Stephanie was alive. And she knew he was okay, too. That was important because Reynard had her, and if she thought Craig was dead, there was no telling what she’d do.
He knew where she was. At least the general location. He started to charge out of the motel room, then checked himself. Men had chased him around Houma. If they didn’t think he’d been blown up in that explosion, they would be searching for him again.
After looking out the window to make sure nobody was lurking in the parking lot, he cautiously stepped outside.
In the car, he used the GPS to set a course for Morgan City, driving below the speed limit so as not to call attention to himself. All he needed was to get stopped by a cop and have them find out he was still alive. If they did, they’d probably hold him for questioning in the death of Ike Broussard—when they found out the cop was the one who’d gotten caught in the explosion.
Hopefully, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon because the big advantage Craig had now was that Reynard thought he was dead. If he could keep it that way, he’d have a better chance to get Stephanie out of there.
And then what? He’d worry about that after he sprang her.
When he reached the approximate vicinity, he stopped at one of the gas stations. After filling his tank, he went inside the station. As soon as he saw the racks of junk food, he realized he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He put a soft drink and some peanut butter cheese crackers on the counter and paid for them, along with the gas, glad that he’d brought a fair amount of cash with him—and that he also had the thugs’ money. But eventually, he was going to need more cash. Maybe he could rob the gas station, he thought with a snort before turning toward the cashier.
He ran his hand through his hair and looked around like he thought the interior of the station would answer a vital question.
“I’m supposed to be delivering an important package to the Reynard estate,” he said as he put his wallet back into his pocket, but I’m not sure of the address. “Can you tell me where it is?”
“It’s about five miles south of town on the Old River Road,” the man answered. “But you won’t get in unless they’re expecting you because there’s a guard at the gate.
