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When I don’t say anything, he jerks his thumb behind us. “They found her, didn’t they?”

Samantha grunts in acknowledgment. “We need to get out of here before someone reports the car as stolen.”

He nods and starts the car, glancing in the rearview. “Eyes straight ahead,” I growl.

“How am I supposed to see whether anything is coming if I don’t look?”

“You’re clear,” Samantha says.

Sullenly, Jake puts the car into reverse and rolls back slowly, trusting Samantha to be his eyes. When he’s lined up, he swings the nose around as she wrestles into a new set of clothing in the back.

At a break in traffic, he plants his foot, making Samantha curse. “Watch it!”

Offering her little more than a shrug in reply, he crosses two lanes while I fight the urge to check on Samantha. He keeps driving like that, and with her unrestrained, she’s going to get hurt.

I double my prayers, now praying for Brooke and Samantha, and for Jake to slow down, keeping my mind occupied until I hear an audible click as Samantha fastens her belt. I flip the sun visor down and angle the mirror to see what outfit Hightower have put together for her this time.

Samantha catches me looking and tugs at the camo pants. “At least I have pockets this time.”

Holding back a laugh, I scan the rest of her, glad she’s wearing flat canvas shoes and a white T-shirt. “And you’ll blend in rather than stick out.”

She smiles, but it holds an element of uncertainty which twists my knotted stomach even further.

I face the front again and resume praying. Praying that Caleb has found Brooke, that Delilah can organize the money, and that nothing goes wrong.

This is on me. All of it. My lousy choices fueled by vengeance, pride, and anger led to this. If Brooke dies… the pain it’ll cause my parents will be indescribable.

I glance into the mirror again, and my chest squeezes as I see Samantha shifting items from her purse to the pockets of her pants. She trusts me. She actually trusted me enough to give me a memory card with information she believes can protect her freedom.

Whether it does is irrelevant right now.

I have to get Brooke back somehowwithoutexchanging Samantha.

If I don’t, I’ll spend the rest of my life knowing their blood is on my hands.

Samantha

With Mick sitting up front, nervous energy starts to build in me, along with some doubts.

The clothes they’ve once again forced me to wear don’t fit as snugly as I’d like, the cotton isn’t soft, and the canvas shoes are scuffed. While the outfit is practical, it reveals their intent. After assuming the worst, it’s now obvious that if they wanted to force me to do something, they have the manpower and resources to do so.

I keep my eyes on the back of Mick’s head, studying the lines of his neck and the creases in his skin as he looks out the window. He must be sick to his stomach. But he’s trying not to show it. Trying to be brave, or macho. Neither of which will help him get his sister back.

I swallow hard and am pleased Jake isn’t driving as erratically now that we’re on the freeway. The rest of the drive passes by in a blur of emotions I don’t understand and am fighting to control. Pressure is building up in my chest, and my eyes are stinging. What is wrong with me? I’m like a bottle of champagne whose cork has been partially popped. All the force inside is slowly compelling the contents to pour out.

I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my fists as Mick and Jake carry on a conversation I’m not even sure if I should be a party to. I wouldn’t be so open if I were in their shoes. I’d probably have stuffed me in the trunk of the car, handcuffed just for good measure. Their continued patience and kindness are baffling.

As Jake takes an exit, my thoughts continue to batter me relentlessly. “Where are we going?” I call out.

Mick twists to face me, and all my muscles seem to tense at the stress lines forming around his mouth and eyes. “Silas is meeting us at an old aircraft repair station.”

“Who’s Silas?” I say.

Jake replies. “The guy keeping you out of jail.”

Mick’s expression turns frosty as he glances at him. “Just drive.”

His reaction gives me a little reassurance that he does genuinely care for me and that his words haven’t all been in the heat of the moment. But still, when he breaks eye contact and twists back to look out of the windshield, my confidence wanes—more and more the closer we get to our destination. If Silas is powerful enough to command a man like Mick, he must be something to behold.