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“I think so. She’s pretty tough. She was well enough to give Luther grief, so I’m taking that as a positive sign.” He eased up on the gas to give a passing Mustang enough room to get in the lane. “Once she’s all cleaned up, Luther’s taking her to Lola’s so she can start over again.”

Dorcas flashed a brilliant smile, and he wondered what else he could do to put it there. “That’s great! Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I don’t think she would have lasted on the streets for much longer.” He frowned at the memory of Serena’s bruises the last time they met at the diner. “I should have gotten her out weeks ago.”

“There’s only so much you can do, Nate.”

“I know. It’s just...” He should have done more, should have acted sooner. The usual self-doubt bullshit. A few rounds of the “What If” game played in his mind. What if he’d offered Serena the job last month? What if he’d beaten her pimp to a pulp? For all he knew, it might have made matters worse, but the possibility of it making things better gnawed at his conscience.

Dorcas shifted in her seat so her body was angled toward him. “You did good, Flint. Don’t beat yourself up over scenarios where you’ll never know the outcome.”

“I know.” He did, on an intellectual level. But his gut still screwed with his head. He blew out a breath as he glanced at his mirrors to check for signs of a tail. No BMW, or anything else to raise an alarm, but it never hurt to be watchful.

“Shit, I forgot to call Austin.” He retrieved his phone from the center console and held it out to Dorcas. The last thing he needed was to get into a wreck because he’d been texting at seventy miles per hour. “Could you do me a favor and send him a message? Just let him know Luther’s on the way, and Serena might need medical help.”

Dorcas swiped at the phone. “Sure, what’s your password?”

“Squishy.”

She snorted, a common reaction. “Seriously?”

“You wouldn’t have guessed it.”

She didn’t say anything, just shook her head and grinned as she tapped away at the screen. When she finished, she tucked the phone back in the center console. “All set.”

“Thanks.”

By ten, they were a few miles south of Brunswick, a long stretch of I-95 that was largely undeveloped. Dorcas fell asleep a half hour ago. She looked cold with her arms hugging her chest, and Nate adjusted the setting on the AC to make her more comfortable.

He passed a minivan, shaking his head at the driver flossing his teeth. The guy wasn’t even looking at the road, and Nate didn’t want to be anywhere near him.

Rain began to fall, a light sprinkle at first, but it wasn’t long before it came down so hard the windshield wipers couldn’t keep up with it. It beat down hard enough to drown out the radio. A line of cars had pulled onto the shoulder, their hazard lights flashing in the hopes that no one would plow into them.

Nate managed to drive another mile or two before the storm got so bad he could barely see past the hood. He slowed down more, but it didn’t help. More than once, he drove over the reflectors in between the white lines, thethump-thump-thumpjarring enough to wake Dorcas from a sound sleep.

“Where are we?” she asked, her voice rough from sleep.

“Still in Georgia.” And that’s where they’d stay for the night. Decision made, he flicked the turn signal and eased into the lane for the upcoming exit.

Dorcas leaned forward and squinted to read the highway sign. Considering he couldn’t make it out, he doubted she could either. “Where are we going?”

“Hotel.” He hoped. At this point, he just wanted to get off the highway before he hit something—or something hit him.

She checked the time. “It’s only ten.”

“I know, but I don’t feel like getting into a wreck. This storm doesn’t look like it’s letting up anytime soon. I’d rather get a room and get back on the road first thing tomorrow morning.”

He understood why she wanted to keep going. To a point, he agreed with her. Aside from dealing with Serena, he was eager to get home and dig into the flash drive they’d discovered inside the storage unit. There had to be something important on it, something worth hiding in another state. Something worth ransacking two homes for. He only hoped it would lead to her sister.

At the next exit, Nate hooked a left, and then pulled onto the shoulder and powered up his phone in hopes of finding a nearby hotel. Thank fuck, he was able to pull up the internet, and he breathed a sigh of relief when the map showed the Brinkwood Motor Lodge less than a quarter mile down the road. He put the truck back in gear, and after a short, slow drive, the building came into view.

He pulled up to the entrance so Dorcas could get out without getting soaked, then parked in the nearest spot and dashed across the lot. By the time he ducked under the overhang, he was drenched to the skin, his clothes stuck to his body, water dripping off his chin.

From the outside, the hotel didn’t look like anything special, but the lobby was clean and tastefully decorated, which gave Nate hope the rooms wouldn’t be like something out of a bad horror movie. The clerk at the desk, a young, skinny white guy in black pants and a white polo shirt, tapped away on his phone. He jerked when he noticed them, stashed the phone behind the counter, and gave Nate a sympathetic look.

“Wow, still raining out there, huh?”

No shit, Sherlock, Nate thought but somehow managed to hold back the comment. “We’d like two connecting rooms.”