“Not long.” Christian hooked a thumb over his shoulder.
She turned to see that, inexplicably, Angel had already jimmied open the door on the little Ford and was sliding into the driver’s seat. As promised, no alarm accompanied his intrusion.
“Wow. I don’t know whether to be terrified or impressed.”
Rusty hooked a right, taking them around the block. When they reached a Y in the road, Rusty stopped the truck.
“And now we wait?” Emily craned her head around, gnawing on her lip and picking at a loose thread on the upholstery of the backseat. She rubbed the back of her neck and scooped her hair off her nape. It was hot. She was sweating. Unzipping her jacket helped. But only a little. She fanned her face.
“Yes. We wait,” Christian said. “And stop fidgeting. You’re making me nervous.”
“You?” She sent him an incredulous look. “What about me? This is my first car chase. My first time running for my life. My first time stealing a vehicle.”
“Appropriating,” Ace corrected.
“If I hear that word one more time, I’m going to kill one of you.”
“With what?” Christian asked, the twitch of his lips doing little to hide his amusement. She was gladoneof them was having a good time. “We left all our weapons at Rusty’s when we thought we were hopping an international flight.”
“I’m creative. I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”
“Speaking of the weapons,” Ace interjected, “do we dare go back and retrieve them?”
“Not tonight,” Christian said. “Maybe not ever. If whoever these people are recognized Rusty’s truck, chances are good they bloody well know where he lives. They probably have eyes on his house as we speak.”
“So if we can’t go back to Rusty’s and we can’t get to France, where will we go?” Emily asked, swinging around to face Christian.
“We could try our hand at a hotel,” Ace suggested. “Check in using our fake passports.”
“I shouldn’t think so,” Christian mused, rubbing his chin. “Still too public.”
“So then, what?” Ace asked.
“We go to my uncle’s.”
Emily’s chin jerked back. “Your uncle’s? I didn’t think you had family left over here.”
“Why would you assume that?”
“Well, because…because…” She trailed off. The look on his face was like a line of police tape. It shouted DO NOT CROSS!
“He has a summer cottage on the coast in Port Isaac,” Christian continued. “He won’t knock off from London ’til June. So the cottage should be empty. We can hole up there until we get this cock-up sorted one way or the other.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Ace declared. “Okay, kiddies, hop out and grab your things. Angel is headed our way.”
Emily glanced out the back window. Sure enough, the Ford Focus rounded the corner.
Christian pushed open the door, and the smell of salt-tinged air and threatening rain swooped into the truck. She followed him into the night and took her backpack when he handed it to her.
They had kept their gear in the bed of Rusty’s pickup truck, and she had a fleeting worry that all their stuff wouldn’t fit into the little four-door hatchback. And then a thought occurred…
“Rusty.” She placed her hand on his forearm. “I’m so sorry I got you into this.”
Rusty’s ridiculously handsome face became even more ridiculously handsome when he smiled. “Don’t worry.” He covered her hand. “I haven’t had this much excitement in years.”
“But your truck. Your house.” She shook her head. “You have to leave both behind until—”
“Just stuff, dollface. Just stuff.” He used his key fob to lock his truck and turned toward the hatchback when it pulled up beside them.
