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“Correct. Don’t look back.”

How had someone already identified them as the hackers, geolocated them in this town they hadn’t been in an hour ago, and furthermore, found them walking down a crowded street?

She and Alex had been in the library a grand total of maybe twenty minutes. Alex had been so careful not to leave a trail for the CIA to follow. They’d been completely off the grid since last night. How had anyone managed so freaking fast to get agents into this general area to follow them?

She looked around at the entirely normal looking people and places around her. This wasn’t the kind of place lethal spiesplayed games of hide-and-seek. This was the real world. Her world. The everyday—safe—world she lived in.

“There’s a cab ahead of us about a half-block up,” she suggested. “Across the street just beyond the next intersection.” It was the only cab she’d seen in this dilapidated and mostly residential part of town. Finally. A piece of luck might have broken their way.

“Stay with me,” Alex ordered absently as his eyes roved in all directions. “We’ll cross the street in the middle of the intersection.”

She didn’t reply. He was obviously busy formulating plans and evaluating various contingencies.

She did sneak a peek behind them as they approached a stoplight. Darned if she could spot anyone following them. Was the tail real? Or was this all part of Alex’s elaborate paranoid delusion about how dangerous the world was and how everyone in it was out to get him?

They reached the corner and Alex didn’t even pause. He plunged into the oncoming traffic, and she squeaked in alarm as cars swerved and honked their horns angrily. Scared to death, she stuck to him like a burr as he dodged and weaved, practically climbing on his heels.

Somehow, they reached the far curb in one piece, and Alex broke into a run. She kept up with him, but barely, gritting her teeth against the pain in her shoulder as she jarred it with every step. He hailed the cab and opened the door for her to slide into the back seat. He jumped in after her and gave the cabbie the name of their motel.

She started to turn around to look behind them for pursuit, but Alex bit out, “Don’t look. Assume they’re following us.”

Too late. She’d caught a glimpse of a man in a beige raincoat leaping into the passenger side of a big, dark SUV way too frantically to be a regular civilian going about his business.

God almighty. Alex wasn’t wrong about his world colliding with hers at a moment’s notice. It was as if the curtain separating the two in her mind had suddenly become tissue thin.

In moments like this, she could almost believe Alex wasn’t crazy. Almost.

The taxi rolled for about five minutes, and then suddenly, Alex leaned forward and said sharply, “This isn’t the way to the motel.”

“There’s construction,” the cabbie replied. “I’m going around it. I’ll knock a chunk off the fare if you want.”

Alex subsided, frowning slightly. When he worried, she worried. He not only had a great deal of training she didn’t have, but he also had an incredible instinct for sensing trouble. It was part of what made him a great spy.

Abruptly, the taxi left the surface street and swerved onto a highway entrance ramp, accelerating quickly.

“Hey!” she exclaimed. This was definitelynotthe way back to the hotel. She reached for her cell phone to call 9-1-1.

But Alex reached out to grip her forearm and forestall her. He shook his head infinitesimally in the negative. He mouthed to her without sound, “Not CIA.”

Then who was their driver? And who did he work for?

She glanced down at her phone in dismay. Alex was right. They couldn’t call the police. If they did, the CIA would find them again. Alex would be hauled away to who knew where and be drugged again…if he was lucky. If he was not lucky, he would be killed for appearing to have gone rogue. As for her, she would end up dead simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. That, and for loving the wrong man.

If they couldn’t call law enforcement for help lest they attract the attention of the CIA, it also mean the two of them were on their own to deal with this lunatic and his cab.

She looked toward the driver and froze in horror. The small black bore of a pistol pointed back at her.

She looked over at Alex in panic. What was happening…besides the absolutely obvious fact that they were beingkidnapped?

19

Katie opened her mouth to speak, but Alex shook his head at her again. And this time she shrank back against the seat, as well.

That look had entered his eyes. The one he’ had the first night he’d gotten home. The look of a killer. Absolutely chilling calm rolled off of him.

Oddly enough, it comforted her. Spy Alex was in the house. And she trusted that version of him with her life.

Why didn’t Alex shoot the driver? Although there was the whole business of the taxi traveling at seventy miles per hour down a highway. If Alex shot the guy, the vehicle would crash spectacularly. Still. They might have a better shot of surviving a crash than whatever their kidnapper had in store for them.