Page 43 of Defending You

Beneath a canopy of pines far enough from the road that the traffic was barely background noise, Asher plopped downand tore into the burner phone’s packaging. “No library needed now.” He didn’t look at her. “This’ll do.”

Cici peeled off her soggy sneakers, wincing when the damp socks clung to her blisters. She let her feet dry in the warm air before covering them with Band-Aids Asher had found in his pack and then gingerly pulling on the new socks and shoes. Godsends both, even if the Crocs looked like bubblegum had thrown up on her feet.

“Why don’t I reach out to my dad?” She stuffed her wet items in the plastic bag, then tried to get the bag in her bulging purse, voicing a question that had been humming in the back of her mind since she’d seen that sign in the store. “He could wire us money.”

Asher took her plastic bags and somehow made room for her wet shoes and socks in his bag. “Your dad’s phone could be tracked.”

“Please.” She didn’t temper the exasperation in her voice. “Do you know who my dad is? Former CIA, runs a defense contracting empire, security clearance right up there with that of the Joint Chiefs? His phone’s so secure that even he can barely get into it.”

Asher’s ice-blue eyes narrowed behind his glasses. The black rims did nothing to temper the man’s attractiveness. If anything, they added to it, making him look studiousandbuff, like a sexy professor.

Stop that.

She braced for an argument, but he exhaled. “Okay. But no texts—calls only. Texts are too easy to intercept.”

Not that she wanted to talk to her father, but at this point, she’d take his raised voice and disappointment if it meant not having to walk a hundred soggy miles from Massachusetts to Maine.

Asher handed over the cell phone, which he’d plugged into his portable charger and activated, and she dialed her father’s number, her stomach knotting as it rang.

When he answered, she said, “Dad, it’s Ci?—”

“Cecelia!” His voice was whip-crack sharp. “Where in God’s name are you? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I’m fine, Dad.” Not that he’d asked. His tone made her feel like a kid caught sneaking in after curfew. “I’ve been…dealing with some stuff.”

“Somestuff?” His voice rose, and she could picture him pacing his home office, his hands balled into fists. “The police called looking for you. You’re wanted in connection with a murder.”

“I know, it’s just?—”

“Your mother is losing her mind. She deserves better than this. And so do I.”

“Dad, just let me explain.”

“No need.” He took a breath but continued before she could get a word in. “I talked to Forbes and Brooklynn. I know about the necklace. The point is, you should have called me right away. Surely you don’t think you can handle this on your own?”

The words stung. Of course he didn’t believe her to be competent. He never had. “I’m with a bodyguard. We’re okay, but we need help.”

“I want to know exactly what happened, from the beginning.”

She spilled the story—Mr. D’s murder, the necklace, the men chasing them. The train, the stolen car, the safe house. And then today, their attempt to get to the airfield, eluding enemies yet again, the barn fire, and the long trek through the woods.

No wonder he didn’t trust her to take care of herself. The more she talked, the more she realized what a huge mess she was in.

She couldn’t help the tears that fell and averted her gaze from Asher, who was too close not to have noticed. At least she managed to keep emotion from seeping into her voice. Tears would not endear her father to her. He’d been immune to his girls’ tears as long as she could remember.

Dad listened, his silence heavy.

She finished the story with her reason for calling. “We’re low on cash, and we can’t use our credit cards. I’m hoping you can wire me some money.” She gave him the information for the Western Union. “I’ll pay you back.”

“You think I care about that? I’m sending someone to get you.”

Asher bumped her shoulder, and she quickly swiped her tears and looked at him. Though she hadn’t put the call on speaker, Dad’s voice was loud enough that Asher had probably heard his every word. “Tell him we’ll call back with a location once we have the money. We need to move.”

He was agreeing to have Dad send a car? There was a surprise.

“That was him?” Dad asked. “The bodyguard? What’s his name?”

“Asher Rhodes. He works for the same company Grant worked for. I don’t know if you remember Asher’s family, but he grew up in Shadow Cove.”