Marc slid in and started the engine, and the radio immediately lit up, making them both flinch from the unfamiliar sound. "You there, Brady?"
He shifted and hit the gas as he keyed the mic. "Be in your mirror in a click. I see your lights. Turn them off and stay close."
The bright red and white tattles disappeared. "I will."
Marc only slowed a little as he went around her on the gravel road, seeing she had left room for him to take the lead. When she fell in tight behind him, he let his training and knowledge of the area take over, eager to lose the brothers and be alone with her.
Glad that the ground here was dry, but not dusty enough to leave tracks, he swung them onto an old dirt path that would eventually bring them out well away from the vengeful threats they were leaving alive. Ignoring his gut that said doing so was a disastrous mistake, Marc lit a smoke and lowered the window. Angie hadn't wanted it, and the last thing he needed was for her to start off thinking he was a hardened killer…even though he was.
Marc sighed. The damp air rolling in warned of rain soon, a lot of it, and he told himself to relax, that between their injuries and the weather, he and Angie should be able to get at least a good night's sleep before they had to start watching.
Moving quickly, they drove down streets and dirt roads that Angela didn't have time to look up on her map before they were turning onto a different one, and she kept her doors locked and eyes on the Born Free & Die that Way! bumper sticker that she could only read when he hit his brakes. They moved through the thick, silent darkness with his eyes to guide them, and her stomach was full of butterflies, pulse racing. He was here! Brady had finally come for her!
Marc kept one eye on the winding dirt road and one on the vehicle in his mirror, glad she copied his movements exactly as they rolled around downed trees, burnt-out cars, and wireless telephone poles - damage that he was almost sure had been caused by an earthquake. She was following him as he had followed her, trusting the choices he made, the way he had as he'd followed her back trail, and it occurred to him again that some of her decisions had been risky, reckless. Finding her had been easy because she was taking not the easiest or most reasonable path, only the quickest - like the water crossing in Geneva. They'd both been lucky that bridge had held.