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“I still think we should?—”

“I can’t risk it. It’s complicated, but if he finds out about my boy, because the police turn up, then…” I suck in air. “He didn’t hurt me. But he could, if…”

If.

If goes wildly in all directions, and I can see some of those places on her face as she mulls my words. “Where do you live?”

I give her my address.

“We’ll take you home, okay?”

“Thank you.”

And I get in the car.

Kara’s hugon the driveway is enough to send George and Gwen off after Kara showers them with words of thanks.

But now we’re inside, and I’ve just told her what happened.

She goes to my cupboard above the stove and pulls out a bottle of sherry I bought once when I made a fancy dish for a potluck once. She pours herself a drink and waves the bottle at me. I shake my head.

“When my phone started to explode with news flashes, and I couldn’t get hold of you, I lost my fucking mind.” She sets down the bottle and glass. “And Max…”

I sniff and nod. “I can’t think about that or I’ll lose it.”

But the shock on her face is deeper than that. “This man, Demyan, he sounds… horrible. And you—” Kara shakes her head. “What are you going to do, Erin? He’s got to be organized crime. All those guns, that mansion. Shit. And you ran…”

“I’m going to get the hell out of here before he knows I’m gone and before he figures out, he’s Sasha’s father.”

“You told him?” Her eyes almost bug out.

“No, but a man like that will find out. It’s just a matter of time.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Make sure I have some time. If anyone asks about me…” I flash her a look as I go to my room and grab a wheelie bag and start to pack.

“I’ll say who?”

Kara digs out a backpack. She throws things into it forSasha, his baby goat toy and bear, his favorite books, and she leaves that by the door to his room as she heads back to the kitchen.

I throw jeans, shirts, shoes, and tops into the bag, along with toiletries. Some jewelry I could sell if I have to. Then I need to get all of Sasha’s stuff. I inventory it in my head because I’ll get that last. Thank fuck he and Kara clearly played in the living room, and since his toys were there, he must have passed out.

I change into jeans, sneakers, and a sweater, and panic hits.

“Where’s your purse?” she asks, running up with his favorite box mac and cheese he only gets on occasion.

“At the wedding venue.”

“Fuck.”

“I’ve got emergency cards.” I wheel the bag into the hall. “They’re in my room, bottom dresser drawer.” I run to get them and shove them in my pocket, then I slide into Sasha’s room, his night-light showing his chubby little face, the perfect little mouth. And my heart breaks.

But I don’t have time for broken things.

I raid his closet and drawers, packing what I need. I sling the pack over my shoulder when something horrific hits me.

“Kara?” I rush out to her. “My car, it’s?—”