Page 127 of Nowhere to Hide

Priscilla kept her distance, but her anger and fear was thick in the space between us.

I should be holding her close, but I was just so afraid to show her how freaked out I was that I locked everything down. It was for her protection—and maybe mine as well.

Reality was icy cold even as the day was a scorcher.

Sweat dripped down my spine as I finally pulled us into the dock and tied us down. I kept looking over my shoulder at the pedestrian traffic. There was no way he could be here—not really.

But I couldn’t escape the heaviness in my chest. When Priscilla hopped onto the deck, our usual reusable cooler bags in tow. I took her hand and some of it evened out.

We didn’t speak as I wound us through the crowd of people. The fuel stations were jammed with people. Instead of waiting, I drew her up the walkway to the marketplace.

The regatta logo was everywhere. Because my skin was crawling, I snagged a few T-shirts and paid cash for them.

“Put this on.”

She bit down against asking me why, but followed direction. Still feeling like we were too easy to spot, I ducked between the bazaar-like vendor tables until we were off the pedestrian paths.

I spotted an ATM and took out the maximum from two of my accounts. I tucked the majority of it into my clip, one in my belt.

“Are you—” She shook her head. “Never mind, of course you have your weapon.”

I pulled her close, tucking cash into her small purse. “If we get separated for any reason, I want you to head to the nearest store. Go right to the registers or manager and stay there. Stay around people.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“I’m being overly cautious. I just...I need you safe.” I cupped her face. “Do that for me?”

She nodded. “Stay around people. Go into a store.”

“Call Bastian. His number is programmed in here.” I slipped a small burner cell phone into her bag.

“You leave me and we’re going to have a big ole fight, Safety Locke.”

“The only way I leave you is if I’m dead.” I kissed her hard and took her hand again, crossing the vendor tents to the signs for the farmers’ market area.

It was busier than hell between the regular tourists and those in for the big race. The sun beat down on us adding to the anger building in me. No one was taking her from me—period.

The weeks we’d spent together created a well-oiled machine when it came to shopping for staples for the boat. If I was going to push us hard for the next few days, I needed to make sure we had a good stash of food. Instead of dallying over the specialty items, she seemed to understand we needed to shop for speed.

Fruits, vegetables, fresh bread, and jerky went into the bag. When we were done, I started to relax.

The closer we got to the marina, the more I could breathe.

Just a little longer and I could get her as far away from the Northeast as humanly possible.

A guy on an e-scooter zipped through the crowd of people. He had a hood up and a mask covered part of his face. Easily threading around the tourists, I spotted him lifting bags off easy marks.

When another scooter buzzed me, I jerked Cilla close to me. “Watch out.”

She stumbled into me. The guy—hell, I was pretty sure it was a teen—had a knife. He snapped the strap on Cilla’s purse and had it wrapped around his hand. She dropped to the grocery bag to the pavement. It was zipped closed thankfully.

I yanked him off the scooter which kept going and crashed into a trio of guys in regatta gear.

They turned with a pissed off shout and spotted me with the thief.

“Let me go, man!” The mask slipped and the kid was barely over sixteen, but he was fast. He disappeared into the crowd of onlookers who suddenly were way too close as far as I was concerned.

I jerked Cilla against me, stuffing her tiny purse into the bag on my arm.