Hell on Wheels (Black Knights Inc. #1)(45)

“The CIA agent?” she asked, her hand crawling up to lay over his heart, as if the rock-steady beat somehow comforted her.

“If that’s indeed who Mystery Man is workin’ for.” He covered her small hand with his gloved palm, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze.

Shit, he should’ve insisted she stay back at headquarters. The woman was a kindergarten teacher, for Christ’s sake. She wasn’t cut out for escape and evasion tactics employed from the back of a tricked-out Harley. Of course, there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it now. She was here, and it was his job to make sure nary a hair on her pretty little head sustained so much as a split end.

“I need to call headquarters,” he told her. “See if Ozzie can’t do us a huge favor and find us a nice little hidey hole.”

“Uh, okay…”

He pulled his secure, encrypted cell phone from his jacket pocket and thumbed two on the speed dial. There were a series of clicks. He stated his password.

“Go ahead, Ghost,” the voice came clear as a bell through his headset. Ozzie rigged all their helmets with Bluetooth technology. Kid was an asset; no bones about it. Only that wasn’t Ozzie on the other end of the line.

“Rebel?” he asked.

“The one and only,” she answered proudly. “Ozzie’s in the can. What can I do ya for?”

“I’ve got company,” he told her, quickly glancing into his rearview mirror only to find the silver SUV nowhere in sight.

He took no comfort in the fact.

“Can you access our location—we’re on I-65 just past Lexington, Kentucky—and find me a place to lie low for the next few hours?”

“No luck with the shell game, huh? That sucks.”

Yep, and then some.

“Okay, I’m mapping your location via Phantom’s tracking device,” Becky said, all business, “but in order to view your company I’m gonna need….” Nate heard the rapid clicking of a keyboard. “Yepper,” Rebel came back. “Hold please while I access Eyes in the Sky.”

Eyes in the Sky, huh? Ozzie had obviously schooled Rebel on temporarily hijacking a few key military surveillance satellites.

Handy.

Not to mention very difficult.

“Okay, Ghost, I’ve got you on my screen,” Becky quickly related. “Looking for viable escape routes and cover.”

Wow, that was fast.

He couldn’t help but think, way to go, chica. The girl was obviously gettin’ good and not just at the techie stuff. She could also handle a bolt-action rifle better than most seasoned soldiers.

Boss was going to blow a gasket when he realized just how hard baby girl was trying to turn herself into a full-blown operator. Nate could only hope he was out on assignment when the shit hit the fan…

“Our tail is drivin’ a silver Escalade,” he told her. “I can’t see him now, but at last visual he was ’bout half a klick back.”

“Got him on my screen, too,” Becky quickly confirmed. “He’s still trailing, back farther now, a little over a klick. All right, Ghost, local real estate listing has an empty house in Winchester. Old one. Been on the market a long time, so no real danger of some enthusiastic realtor barging in on you. Its detached garage doesn’t have a garage door opener, so you won’t have any trouble accessing. In two klicks, you’re gonna see your exit.”

Nate didn’t slow as he zoomed down the exit ramp. Ali squeaked and he wished to God he didn’t have to do this. She’d been frightened enough recently without entertaining the very repulsive thought of acquiring a terminal case of road rash.

“First right.” Becky’s voice was steady in his headset. “End of the block, head left until you hit Magnolia Street.”

The little wood-sided houses flying past them had basketball hoops in their driveways. There was a forgotten blue tricycle in the yard on the corner, and across the street a red Radio Flyer was abandoned with its cargo of stuffed animals.

Thank goodness it was lunchtime and most of the kiddies in the neighborhood were inside eating bologna sandwiches, or this little maneuver would’ve been much trickier.

“Silver Escalade just exited. He’s slowing,” Becky informed him.

“Yep, probably trying to listen for us,” Nate said through clenched teeth. One of Phantom’s little drawbacks.

“Turn left on Magnolia. Tenth house down on the right. Off-white siding, crimson front porch railing—”

“I see it.”

“Garage is in the back. If there’s a lock—”

“I got my bolt cutters,” he interrupted her.

But when he cut his engine and coasted up to the old, rickety, one-car garage, he quickly noted its lack of even an attempt at security.

Small towns. Geez, you just gotta love ’em.

“Hop off, sugar, and…” Shit. He winced. There he went with the whole sugar thing again, “lift that door for us, would ya?”

“Well I would, honey,” Becky drawled through his headset, “but I’m a little busy right now. Not to mention three hundred miles away.”

Nate ignored Rebel as he watched Ali stagger toward the garage door. Uh-huh, over four hours on the back of a bike tended to bowleg anyone not used to it. She bent to grab the bottom of the door and—