and told me she loved me more than the sun and stars.
I have to see her. Screw my quest for time and solitude.
My gaze locks on Archer. “I’m leaving within the hour. Don’t try to stop me.”
“Why would I want to stop you? I’m going with you.”
“I’m going with you,” Killian says, his voice nothing but metal shards and fire.
Someone is trying to kill me, and I’m smart enough to know I can use the protection while I’m so distracted. From both sides. “Here’s the deal, the only one I’ll offer. You both vow you won’t hurt the other and you can both go with me.”
“No,” Archer says. Succulent, to the point.
“Hell, no,” Killian says. Piss and vinegar.
“Otherwise, I go alone,” I finish. Yes, I’m smart enough to know I can use the protection, but I’m also stubborn enough to go without it.
Archer purses his lips. Killian curses.
All business, I say, “How long will it take us to reach LA?”
“Until we know who wants you dead, we’ll have to drive. No planes. No public transportation, period.” Killian shudders. “We can make the forty-two-hour drive in roughly thirty-six. Maybe.”
Definitely. “We’ll take turns driving. And just to reiterate, you boys won’t insult, attack or hurt each other during the trip. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Yes. That’s all.” Killian glares at me.
“You aren’t asking.” Archer crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re commanding.”
I stare him down. “I regret nothing. Now. I’m going to the cabin to gather my things and talk to Sloan. If you’re both here when I return—alive and unharmed—we’ll take off.”
I head outside to find the sun rising, chasing the incoming storm away. I pause to catch my breath, for once unable to lose myself in the vivid shades of pink and gold painted over the sky.
A moan draws my attention to the ground. Charles is sprawled in a pile of leaves, twigs littering his hair. Archer must have hit him where it hurts. I leave him to his recovery and make my way to the house, happy there isn’t another tornado brewing.
Sloan is waiting for me in the foyer, pacing. She’s dressed in a black tank, black jeans and a pair of combat boots, her ponytail swishing from side to side.
“Hey,” I say.
She closes the distance and pulls me close for a hug. “I heard Archer and Deacon talking. I’m sorry about your mom.”
At first I’m not sure how to respond. Slowly I wind my arms around her and hug her back. Taking comfort, but hopefully giving it, too. “Yeah. It sucks.”
“You’re going to see her?”
I nod.
She sighs. “This is where we part ways, then.”
I open my mouth to protest. No! We stay together. But resignation settles in and settles fast. This had to happen at some point. Her decisions are her own, and I won’t try to make her do what she doesn’t want to do just so I can keep my friend at my side.
“You heading home or staying here?” I ask.
“Heading home. I wanted to wait till after my birthday, but I’m too impatient. Don’t be surprised when news stations blast stories about the Aubuchon family home burning to the ground soon after the prodigal daughter returns. No estate, no reason to marry.”
The pain in her voice is raw and ragged. “Change your mind about marrying the first unsuitable guy?”
“Yeah.” She fluffs her hair. “No one deserves me.”
That’s my girl. “I’m sorry about your family,” I say, and I am. Every child should feel invaluable. Loved without strings.
“I know you understand.”
“Yeah. I was a ticket to money and fame, nothing more.” I give her another hug. “Stay safe, or I’ll be ticked. We still don’t know who tried to kill us.”
“No worries. I’ll have a bodyguard. Deacon agreed to come with me.”
“Good.” I hate the thought of her out there alone.
An excited gleam sparkles in her eyes. “I think I’m gonna give him the honor of being my gentleman lover until we reach Savannah.”
I choke on a laugh. “Gentleman lover? Really?”
“What? I didn’t think it’d be polite to call him my show pony.”
We smile at each other, snicker really, and I make my way up the stairs. In my bedroom, I brush my teeth and hair and stuff the clothes and toiletries Archer gave me into a bag. I grab the stash of protein bars I’ve been hiding just in case, then roll my scalpel and a few kitchen knives in the shirts to prevent clinking.
I head downstairs, determined. To my surprise—and really, I’m surprised that I’m