Oh. That makes sense. “We will emerge in the northeast corner where the lighting is always faulty. My car is third on the left.”
“I’ll drive.”
“Now you are being sexist. You shoot; I’ll drive. You can’t do both.”
“I’m excellent at multitasking.” He squeezes past me in the low light, his chest brushing against mine in the cramped space. Chills break out across my skin, and I fight the full-body shiver warring within me.
“Should I grab my nail polish and give myself a makeover while you are driving at breakneck speed and wielding a gun?”
“Yes.”
I scoff, arching a brow in challenge. “Not happening. I drive, or I leave your ass here. They are after me, not you.”
He huffs and runs a hand through his hair. “Fine.” He grips the handle and eases it down, the door opening soundlessly. As promised, the lights are off in this corner, bathing us in shadows. There’s no movement in the garage as he scans the open area, but that doesn’t mean we are clear.
He jerks his head, and I take off to my sleek, purple, limited edition Audi R8. I have a thing for fast cars, and I refuse to be ashamed of it. It’s not exactly an inconspicuous car, and I probably should have chosen some innocuous black SUV to blend in, but it’s an extravagance I allow myself. Christoper has tracked me here anyway, and what I drive won’t make a difference if he’s found me this fast. Hunter follows me as I unlock the doors and open the trunk to store our bags before sliding into the driver’s seat and winding the windows down. In the case of a shootout, I’d prefer my car to not be too damaged. Plus, broken glass is dangerous.
“This is not what I expected you to drive,” he says as I start the engine. “It seems impractical. Did a man buy it for you?”
“Your sexism is showing again. No, Hunter, a man did not buy this for me. Everything I own I bought myself.”
I grin as I peel out of the parking space, and Hunter curses as I fly up the ramp and out onto the street. Sure enough, there are suspicious-looking men hanging around the entrance to my building, and two tall ones eyeballing the fire escape.
Idiots.
I peel down the street, dodging the slower-moving traffic as I navigate out of the city. I know these streets like the back of my hand, after practicing driving all my pre-planned routes a minimum of twice a week should the need to escape arise.
Hunter relaxes and flips the gun’s safety on before setting it in his lap, huffing out a breath. “That was relatively easy.”
“He found me so quickly.”
“Still, under your false name.”
“True. Which means he must have used facial recognition technology. If he tracked me to the airport, the passport that came up would have been Grace Halls, my alias.”
“But your passport says Eleanor Austin.”
I hum in my throat. So that’s how he knew my name. “Easier to travel on a valid and legitimate passport and falsify the records the airport keeps than risk being stopped by security.”
“That’s smart.”
“I know.” I tap my thumbs on the steering wheel as I check the mirror for a tail. “Where is this accommodation you are demanding I go to?”
“Texas.”
I glance at him. “Seriously? Your big plan is to take me home?”
“You know where I live? Should I be excited or scared?”
“Probably a little of both.” He must be naïve to think I didn’t look into him after everything. “It seems reckless to go to the known residence of the man they are likely tracking.”
“How would they track me?”
“License plate? Face recognition? Airport security?”
“License plate will lead them elsewhere, so I’m not worried about that. My face, if they do figure out who I am, will lead them to the club. Specifically, the compound.”
My shoulders stiffen at the word. “I think one of my places would be better.”
