destroyed. It seemed as if this job was taking forever.
The Mercedes was a bloodred SL500, a hot car, but Reaper tempered his testosterone with a hefty dose of practicality and chose the Land Rover. It would be a lot more efficient if the terrain turned rough. God only knew how wild a chase Crisa would lead them on, though he couldnât imagine it would be very difficult or take very long to track her down.
Then again, heâd expected killing Gregor to be a fairly simple mission, too, and look how that had turned out.
âWeâll take this one,â he said, opening the Land Roverâs rear door and tossing his bag inside. Heâd packed clothes, flashlights, a pair of tranquilizer guns with a few darts and not much else.
Briarâs bag looked even lighter than his own. She slung it into the back without a word, then yanked open the passenger door and got in.
Reaper took his place behind the wheel and backed the vehicle out of the garage.
âYouâre going to have to guide me,â he told her as he turned the car so its nose pointed toward the road, then headed down the drive and through the gates at the end. The headlights were bright and cut through the darkness, though he didnât need them to see, even on the blackest of nights.
âNorth,â Briar said softly. âShe went north.â
He turned right. âShe must have talked that mortal into giving her a ride off the island. Theyâll have to take the bridge.â
Briar scanned the roadside as they passed. Shops, diners, one or two places to get gas and basics, lined the islandâs main road. The ocean was visible on either side, and there were several thickly wooded areas along the way.
âI wonder what they do when thereâs a hurricane here?â she mused as she sensed the night for signs of Crisa.
âEvacuate, I think.â
âI wouldnât like that.â
â You wouldnât leave.â
She looked at him sharply. âWhat makes you think so?â
âYouâre stubborn. Youâre tough. Youâre mean. You donât like to be inconvenienced. Youâd take it personally, as if the storm threatening your home were a deliberate and pre-meditated attack against you, and youâd want to fight back.â Reaper shrugged. âSince you donât particularly care if you live or die, youâd have no reason not to.â
She blinked at his words. âYou think you know me pretty well, donât you?â
âI was describing what I would do,â he said. âI have a feeling youâd react the same way.â
He waited, and when she didnât answer, he pressed, âAm I right?â
âNo, because Iâd never live here. Itâs not my style.â
âWhat is your style, Briar?â
She shrugged. âAn alley. A park bench. Gregorâs dungeon.â
âThose arenât real answers.â
âWhatever.â She sighed, and sat up straighter in her seat. âSheâs moving faster now.â
Reaper shot her a look, read the panic on her face, saw the way her eyes focused on nothing. Her gaze seemed to turn inward, and he knew her sense of Crisa was more powerful than his own could ever be.
âWhat, Briar? What are you getting?â
She blinked rapidly, seeming to draw herself back all at once, and then she shot him a desperate look. âSheâs getting farther and farther away.â
âThey must be off the island. Probably on the highway, without the speed limits there are here.â
âFuck the speed limits, Reaper. Canât this thing go any faster?â
He pressed down harder on the accelerator, passed a slow-moving hatchback. âI donât want some cop pulling us over.â
âThen donât stop if one tries.â
Yeah, that would be just brilliant, he thought, imagining a high-speed chase with a barricade of flashing lights and sirens eventually blocking their path.
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