Taking the Heat by Sylvia Day

date, they need to make sure you’re dead. They’ll want to get up close and personal, which is where Brian is at his best.”
    “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Her hand went to her throat, attempting to massage the tightness out of it.
    “Brian has to do his job, Layla.”
    “By luring killers out after him?” Swallowing hard, she looked out the window. She felt like she was going to be sick. She wondered if Rachel had felt similarly when Jack left their bed that morning.
    “For what it’s worth,” Jack murmured, “I believe everything happens for a reason. The chances of you and Brian crossing paths the way you did were pretty damn slim. Things stacked up for you two like a chain of dominoes: the prominence of the Sandoval trial warranted SOG deputies and Brian was in the right place at the right time. He saved your ass and his, and managed to get you across the country without incident. I can’t believe you both would get this far for nothing. Have a little faith in fate or a higher power—whatever your poison is.”
    Layla shook her head. “You have no idea what it’s like being the one who’s always left behind. The one wringing their hands, pulling out their hair, and vomiting from the stress and god-awful terror.”
    “What do you think Brian went through when you joined WITSEC ? You were the one with her ass on the line, the one in danger while he was stuck with the fear. He tried to keep it together around the rest of us, but sometimes his control slipped. I never called him on it, but I was really worried about him for a while.”
    Jesus. And she was about to do it to him again. Maybe that was what was making him so reckless now. Maybe he was throwing himself directly in the line of fire because he was in the same state she was—half out of his mind with grief and worry.
    She sat up and straightened her shoulders. She needed to get someplace safe, so Brian could focus on all the shit that was about to blow up his career. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was all she could do. “Get me to the AUSA, Jack. Let’s get this over with.”
    “That’s the plan.”

    Brian was pulling into a motel on Pacific Coast Highway in San Diego when Jack ’s cell phone rang. He reached for it and answered, his greeting cut off by the impatience of Jack’s regional supervisor on the other end of the line.
    “Hey, Killigrew. I’ve got the information you asked for.”
    Brian parked and kept his gaze on the rearview mirror. “Who was it, sir?”
    “James Reynolds was the deputy who called in that afternoon. He was questioned already and released, but his whereabouts are unknown now. Do you think he’s colluding with Simmons?”
    Jim. Fuck. “I’m absolutely certain he’s not.”
    There was a moment of silence. “Who is this?”
    “Killigrew should, at this very moment, be escorting Miss Creed into the AUSA’s office.” Brian exhaled, mentally kissing his career good-bye. “Thank you for your help, sir.”
    He hung up and slid out from behind the wheel. Standing in the apex between the open door and the body of the vehicle, he surveyed his surroundings. The end of the road was in front of him, but he was suddenly reluctant to get there. Jim had been his friend for a long time. Brian had trusted the deputy with his life more than once. Surely Jim was tracking them via the Bronco’s theft recovery system. But he’d allowed them to get this far.
    Why? Brian intended to ask the man that question directly.

    Thank God he was wearing gloves. If not for them, Jim Reynolds doubted he could keep his grip on the Maglite in his hand. Breathing roughly, he wiped the blood off the end of the flashlight with a Kleenex, then dropped it on the corpse lying prone on the floor behind the front desk. He disabled the outdated and poorly placed security camera overlooking the closet-sized lobby area, then wiped the recording of the feed going back a solid twenty-four hours. It only took a moment to find a