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Her mouth dropped open. “You used a fake ID?”

He slanted a glance in her direction. “We have no idea who we’re dealing with, Dorcas. If they have a half-decent hacker on the payroll, they could track us through credit card activity. I didn’t want to risk them finding out what we’re driving.”

Okay, that made sense, but she still had questions. “How did the credit card have the fake name?”

One side of his mouth curved up. “I know people.”

She rolled her eyes. More likely than not, his “people” included his sister, Larissa, who was some kind of Jedi with computers. According to Nina, the woman could do all sorts of scary stuff, so fudging a name on a credit card didn’t seem all that unrealistic.

Nate eased into the far right lane, and then flipped through the radio channels until he found one playing cheesy 80s hair band music and turned up the volume.

“You like this?” Dorcas asked.

“It’s Poison. ‘Talk Dirty To Me.’ What’s not to like?”

She stared at him for a moment. On the drive to Georgia, he’d kept the radio on a pop music station, so the change to 80s hair bands took her by surprise.

“If you prefer,” he offered, “I can find some Tejano.”

Her stare turned into a glare. “Gee, I’ll take outdated ethnic stereotypes for $500, Alex. By the way, that’s not even the right ethnicity, you ass. I’m Puerto Rican.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “You realize I’m jerking your chain, right? I know you’re more of an Imagine Dragons/Maroon 5 kind of gal.”

Dorcas slumped in her seat and crossed her arms. “Lucky guess.”

“Luck’s got nothing to do with it.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I know things.”

She really needed to stop rolling her eyes before they got stuck in the back of her head.

Now that the excitement was over—at least for the time being—the adrenaline ebbed from her system and the drag of fatigue settled in. She felt exhausted, her senses dulled, even though her mind still raced from everything that happened at the hotel. Eyes drooping, she raised her hand to cover a yawn. “Where are we going?”

“Someplace safe, where no one will find us.” He merged back onto the highway and brought the car’s speed up to a few miles above the posted limit. “It’s going to be awhile until we get there, so you might as well pop the seat back and get some rest. I’ll wake you when we get close.”

NATE’S FIRST INSTINCTwas to drive all the way to south Florida, to the house his brother Ty shared with Lola. It was remote, and he doubted anyone would find them there, but if they did, there wouldn’t be much in the way of available defenses. Plus, he’d feel like shit if he dumped danger on his brother’s door. Ty and his woman had been through enough; they deserved some peace and quiet.

A Camaro blew past as if they weren’t even moving, and Nate took comfort in the knowledge that the sports car would flush out any cops who might have a speed trap set up farther down the highway. Still, he let up on the gas until the speedometer showed them right at the posted limit. After everything that happened tonight, he wasn’t in the mood for a ticket.

Thankfully, there wasn’t much in the way of traffic this late at night. That was good, because he was feeling paranoid—rightfully so after the attack at the hotel—and the lack of vehicles made it easier to tell if he’d picked up a tail.

But what really left him unsettled was the rising urge for a fix. It happened whenever he got stressed out, an insistent itch just beneath the skin that demanded to be scratched. Only he knew better. If he gave in to the itch, even just a little, it would only grow stronger—and stronger—and stronger—until it consumed his entire life. No way was he going down that road again, so instead he forced his attention onto more important matters.

Like the fact those men had known where to find them, even though he was certain no one had followed them to the hotel. The only possible explanation was that someone had planted a tracker on his truck. Come morning, he’d ask one of his brothers to retrieve the vehicle and search it for any kind of device.

He glanced to his right to where Dorcas slept, and the sight did peculiar things to his heart that he preferred not to examine too closely. The physical attraction was undeniable. And that kiss—holy shit. But he also felt something deeper, more intimate, and it turned his whole world inside out. For now, he’d protect her, keep her safe, and once the dust settled and he found her sister—hopefully alive, but he was starting to doubt—he’d circle back to this thing between them.

Pushing the thought from his mind, he turned down the radio and pulled over at the next rest stop. He tried calling Austin but the call went to voicemail. Same with Ryan and Wade. Larissa answered on the third ring, her voice thick with agitation, and a baby wailing in the background.

“You woke Sophie. This better be important.”

Nate winced. Hell hath no fury like a mother whose newborn’s sleep had been disrupted. “Would I call you this late if it wasn’t?”

“Yes.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Well, yeah, but this isn’t one of those times.”

“Shane, could you take Sophie for a second? Sure, okay—thanks. I’ll be there in a sec.” Larissa sighed. “You’ve got ten seconds to tell me what you want.”

“Someone just tried to kill me and Dorcas.”