Monterey was a decoy. Since it would take three hours to get to Mojave and several to get to Monterey, she was stalling for time.

"I'm not an idiot," Stacey said, coming over to him. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder, but she set her hands on her hips and looked ready to take him on anyway. "You think you can send me along to Monterey, don't you?

It's faster to Mojave and you're hoping that you'll wrap this all up before I'm in danger."

Connor struggled to keep his face stern when he really wanted to smile. "If Justin's in Monterey, that's where you'll want to be."

"Listen." Her head tilted to the side. "I'm going with you. If you're going to Monterey, that's where I'm going. If you're going to Mojave, that's where I'm going. Now grab your shit and let's go."

Stacey glanced at Aidan. "Which car are we taking?"

"Stace, please," Lyssa begged. Standing from her seat at the end of the small table. "Stay with me."

"Sorry, Doc. No can do."

Grabbing her arm, Connor led her out through the crowded living room and then outside. He took her to the far corner of the porch, by the bedroom window, as far away as possible from the steady foot traffic moving in and out of the house.

Stacey followed Connor with shaking legs. She hoped he didn't notice how unsteady her steps were. She was terrified he would find a way to leave her behind. Maybe it was unreasonable to feel like she had to be with him, but she couldn't shake the feeling. Her home was no longer her own, Lyssa was a walking guilt-trip, and Aidan was focused on keeping everything running smoothly.

She felt like an outsider. Lost, confused, and really goddamned scared.

Connor was her only anchor in the mess that was her life. He was stoic, prepared. Ready to go.

What would she do if he left her behind?

He drew to a stop and heaved out a breath. The roof of the porch hid him in shadow, but his eyes glittered with emotions she both longed for and resented.

"Stacey," he began in that low, rich brogue she adored. "What can I do to get you to stay behind?"

"Nothing." Her voice came out hoarser than she would have liked.

"Sweetheart." The aching note in his voice made her cry.

"You can't leave me here, Connor. You can't."

He cupped her face in his hands and pressed firm lips to her brow. "I won't be able to think if you're with me. I'd be too scared for you."

"Please," she begged in scarcely more than a whisper. "Please take me with you. I'll go crazy here."

He was going to say no, she could tell. Her hands fisted in his T-shirt. His skin was so hot she could feel the humidity through the black cotton. "You owe me," she said. "I swear to God I'll never forgive you if you leave me behind. We'll never have a chance—you and me—if you go without me."

Tension gripped his frame and his head lifted. "Do we have a chance now?"

She swallowed hard, her chest compressed in a vice of misery and yearning.

"Stacey?" He pressed his parted lips to hers, his tongue flickering along the seam.

"I don't know," she breathed against his mouth. "I can't think about everything now. What you are…

what this means… But I need you. I need to be with you."

Connor nuzzled his temple against hers and cursed under his breath. "You have to listen to me.

Obey every command without question."

"Yes," she promised, surging into him. "Yes, whatever you say."

"You'll be the death of me," he murmured, taking her mouth with deep, possessive licks. His thumbs brushed across her cheekbones, wiping at the wetness left by her tears. His grip was almost too tight, his passion almost too much.

She welcomed it, welcomed his warmth and strength when she had none, and she missed it when he pulled away reluctantly.

"Let's grab our bags," he said with a resigned sigh.

"The sooner we take off, the sooner we'll have Justin back."

Filled with gratitude, she restrained him and kissed him one more time. "Thank you."

"I don't like this," he growled. "I don't like it all."

But he was doing it anyway, because he couldn't deny her. There was something precious in that capitulation.

Stacey stored away the feeling to examine another day.

Chapter 14

Connor stared straight down the highway and wondered at his sanity. It was shot to hell apparently; otherwise Stacey would not be in the passenger seat next to him.

"So all of your people are immortal?" she asked tentatively.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. The powerful HEMI engine of the Magnum hurtled them along Interstate 15 at eighty-five miles per hour, but the restlessness eating at him made it feel like they were standing still. They weren't reaching their destination fast enough.

"We can be killed," he said finally, "but it takes a lot of work."

"Are you going to k-kill Rachel?"

He shot a side-glance at her. "I may have to."

She nodded grimly.

"I'll do everything I can to keep this neat and clean, but if it comes down to the wire, we can't afford to fail."

"No, we can't." She offered him a shaky smile that was meant to be reassuring and his heart clenched. "I figured you might need me when you handed me this gun and started explaining."

"That's to protect yourself. Don't worry about me, Stacey." He reached out and set his hand over hers where it held the Glock. "Keep yourself alive.

That's the most important thing."

The silence stretched out between them. Not quite comfortable, not quite uncomfortable.

She blew out her breath, then twisted in the seat to face him. "So I hold both arms out steady, and just keep pulling the trigger until all the bullets are gone. Even if they're down for the count?"

"Yeah, especially if they're down. You can't kill them with a gun. You can only slow them down long enough for me to finish the job."

"With the sword."

"That's right. Guardians can heal most injuries, but we can't grow back limbs or our heads."

"Yuck." She shuddered.

"And keep your eyes open. Sounds obvious, I know, but the report of the gun naturally causes the eyes to blink. You can fuck up a shot that way."

"Eyes open. Okay."

The hands-free communications system signaled an incoming call and they glanced at each other.

Connor activated the line and said, "Tell me you have something good, Cross."

Aidan's brogue came through the speakers.

"We've got a location on the black sedan. Your recollection of the plate numbers was right on and that led us to a rental agency in San Diego who has GPS locators on all of their vehicles.

You're almost on top of them now."

"Where?" Stacey cried.

"They stopped in Barstow, near where the trace lost the cellular signal. Hopefully, they decided to hole up for the night and didn't just ditch the car."

Connor looked at the green highway sign they passed. "We'll be in Barstow in just a few minutes."

"I've got a chopper on the way," Aidan said. "We may need it."

"Stace?" Lyssa's voice come over the line filled with concern. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay, Doc."

"The crew here is in raptures over your pie," Lyssa said. "I hope you don't mind. It's been a few hours since you left and they're getting hungry."

"Are you kidding?" Stacey smiled wryly. "They're helping me get my kid back. I love each and every one of them. They can eat whatever they want."

"Hey!" Connor complained, working with Lyssa to keep Stacey's spirits up. "Save me a slice."

"Don't worry." Stacey touched his forearm, then pulled away quickly. "I'll make you your own pie.

You won't have to share."

The look she gave him made his breath catch.

There was affection there. Her body language told him she was wary, but her overture gave him hope.

"They're fighting over who can have some," Lyssa said with a soft laugh. "Too many people, not enough pie."

"It's still not better than sex," Aidan insisted.

"Depends on the sex," someone shouted out in the background.

That brought a genuine smile to Stacey's face. It did Connor's heart good to see some life in her.

She was so pale, her eyes so big, her lush mouth framed by deep grooves of stress.

"You guys are making me hungry," he complained.

He hadn't eaten since breakfast, which was not the way he liked to go into battle.

"Okay." The alertness in Aidan's tone caught Connor's attention. "You're going to take your next exit."

Glancing over his shoulder, Connor was grateful for both the number of dreams he'd shared where he learned to drive and also for the light traffic.

Pretty much the only vehicles behind them were reinforcements—vans with cleanup crews and Hummers with armed backup. One day, he'd ask Aidan why McDougal needed a personal army, but right now, he was grateful for the support.

"Okay, we're on the off ramp."

Aidan directed them away from the freeway to a motel that had probably never had a good day begin with, and certainly wasn't having one now.

The two-story building appeared to have once been painted peach and brown, but in the yellow glow of the parking lot lights it was hard to tell for sure. The paint was cracked and peeling, the colors faded by the California sun.

Connor parked the car a short distance up the road from the establishment and said, "We're going in."

"Be careful," Aidan admonished. "I know you've never worked with humans before, so listen to me: Don't try and do everything yourself.