Page 65 of Tag (The Golden Team #9)

Tag

W e moved fast.

No goodbyes, no debrief. Just loaded up, fueled, and pointed the convoy toward Nevada.

The desert highway was empty under the moonlight, miles of cracked asphalt stretching out like a black ribbon. Gideon drove point with Callahan riding shotgun, her laptop balanced on her knees, scanning for any sign Graves was moving on the same target.

Aponi sat in the back with me, the map spread across her lap. Her finger traced the winding dirt road that led to the mine. “This is the only access point. Once we’re in, there’s no easy way out.”

I glanced at her. “Then we make sure we’re the only ones going in.”

She didn’t answer, but her jaw was set, the kind of determination that made me both proud and uneasy.

Gideon’s voice came over communications. “We’re twenty miles out. No heat signatures yet.”

That didn’t mean much. Graves knew how to stay invisible until it was too late.

Aponi folded the map and leaned back. “When we get there… if something happens—”

“Don’t.” I cut her off. “Nothing’s happening to you.”

Her eyes softened just enough to make it harder to look away. “Tag—”

I shook my head. “Not negotiable.”

She didn’t push it, but I saw the words she swallowed. Words I didn’t want to hear in case they sounded like goodbyes.

The radio crackled again, this time with Callahan’s voice. “Heads up. We’ve got movement—east of Redwater. Could be nothing, but…”

I already knew it wasn’t nothing. “Graves?”

“Or his people,” she said. “If they’re cutting across the flats, they’ll reach the mine about the same time we do.”

I keyed my communications. “Then we beat them there.”