She pulled all her attention back to the men she was with, the ones who were now arguing over her state of mind like they were ready to tear each other apart over it.
She put one hand on Keith’s shoulder, gently pushing him back into his seat, and shook her head at Cooper.
“Guys, I’m fine. I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine.” She tried to find some sort of explanation for whatever had happened to her, and to her relief, she came up with something that seemed to have the ring of truth even to her. “I saw that there was another car idling in the parking lot, and I had a bad feeling about it, which is ridiculous. I went over and asked the driver a few questions, that’s all. And it was completely fine.”
Keith straightened his tie. “Like I said.”
Cooper glared at the back of Keith’s head and then looked at Gretchen, his eyes softer and more searching. “Are you sure?”
She had never been less sure of something in her life.
But all her old insecurities were up and raring now, reminding her—with a throb of the scar on her shoulder—that her feelings weren’t the most reliable things in the world. And lingering on the issue of the black car only made those feelings of fear and embarrassment stronger, which meant she was better off staying away from it. They were all better off.
She said, “I’m sure,” and the lie sounded good even to her.
It ought to. She’d had a lot of practice lying about things being fine.
6
The radio had started picking up a lot of static.
One song ended, and before the next one could start, there was a short burst of white noise. Then the DJ’s voice came in, mid-sentence:
“—to let all our listeners know that that chill that they’re feeling in the air is about to become a whole lot worse. Yep, we’ve got a real blizzard on the way, sweeping in from the northeast, and by nine or so tonight, you’re going to see a thick blanket of snow settling down over this whole area. We’re talking low visibility and high winds, too, so no late nights tonight. Just get home, put your feet up, and light a fire, because—”
Cooper was going to get a snow day, then. He knew the standard procedure whenever prisoner transport had to be interrupted for severe weather. They wouldn’t risk waiting until the storm started. Gretchen and Keith would drop him off at the nearest jail that would have him, and then they’d resume the trip to Bergen once the roads were clear. Since they were currently in the ultra-rural middle of nowhere, Cooper would probably be cooling his heels in a small town drunk tank.
If he was right about that, he was about to have the most relaxed security of the whole trip. He wouldn’t have two US Marshals to contend with, just one officer who was low enough on the totem pole to be stuck babysitting a prisoner through a blizzard. An officer who, for that matter, probably wouldn’t want to be there and wouldn’t be too invested. Guys alone on the job had even been known to doze off before in circumstances like that.
That would be his chance. If he could get his griffin to resurface, he could bust his way out of the cell. Then all that would be left was flying through a blizzard, and he could do that if he had to.
Probably. Admittedly, he’d never actually tried. But if it was down to life or death, he was willing to bet everything on what would probably be his last, best chance.
Give me liberty or give me death, right? Or at least give me answers or give me death. I want to know who painted a target on my back—who killed Phil, who set me up, and who put a shiv in Ferret Face’s hand and sent him after me.
Everything else that he wanted...
He tried to push those thoughts to the back of his mind.
It was one thing to think that Gretchen Miller was gorgeous and incredible, to think that everything could have been different if they’d met under other circumstances.
It was another thing entirely to dwell on that and let it stop him from doing what he needed to do. He couldn’t be with Gretchen. He couldn’t even be a friend to her right now. She was a US Marshal, and he was a prisoner and a