“borrowed”. He screeched to a stop on the dirt road in front of the cabin and exited the vehicle, dragging a couple of bags out with him. The rain had stopped an hour ago, but the ground was still damp, and his boots sloshed in the mud as he advanced toward the house.
Anger blazing in her eyes, she tore down the faded wooden steps toward him. “Where the hell have you been? I thought you ran out on us. I would’ve called you but I can’t seem to find my phone.”
“I threw it out along with mine.”
“Why’d you do that? Last I checked our cells were untraceable.”
He gave her a pointed look, surprised at how clueless she was. “Not to Cal they aren’t.” Marcus tossed a bag her way, and she caught it effortlessly. “We needed supplies…and a ride. Unless you want me to carry you again.” His gaze trailed over her body, lingering long enough to be suggestive. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, but he couldn’t help it. Regan always managed to bring out the worst in him.
A blush dusted her cheeks, and she bristled to hide her discomfort. He’d always loved the way she did that—used anger to mask her vulnerability, as though it could somehow shield her, not only from others but herself. “No thanks. Can’t picture you lifting both me and that huge ego of yours.”
“I managed all right yesterday.” He grabbed another bag, cut a path toward the house. “Where’s the kid?”
“In his room drawing. I found some paper and an old box of crayons, figured he could use the distraction.”
She followed him into the kitchen, where she placed the bags on the counter and began rummaging through them. Arching a brow, she pulled out a loaf of bread and a couple of cans of Spam. “Is this your idea of gourmet dining?”
“Best there is when you’re on the run.” He got to work emptying the other bags. “The Jeep has a decent amount of trunk space, but you can’t exactly fit a fridge in there.”
Deep grooves lined her forehead. “So we’re leaving?” Her voice tinkled with a note of regret.
His hands stilled. “We can’t stay here, Regan. As fun as it’s been playing house with you, we’ve got to keep moving if we don’t want the Watchers to track us down.”
The sun’s silvery rays slashed through the window, brightening one side of her face. Half in the shadows and half drenched in sunlight, she painted an ironic picture. The Watchers were creatures of both righteous integrity and pervasive darkness. Each day they fought their dark nature to remain in the light. Some succeeded, many failed, but Regan was undoubtedly one of the purest among them. She’d never ingested a soul, maybe because her link to her own soul was so strong, which would explain her uncommon ability to feel.
“You’re their best tracker. Without you they’ll be hard-pressed to find us.” She turned sideways, and the shadows greedily swallowed her.
“Thomas shows promise. With me gone, he’ll finally get the chance to test his wings.”
“We can’t run forever.” The grim reality of the situation was finally sinking in, and hopelessness dulled the confident lilt he was accustomed to hearing in her voice.
“No, we can’t,” he agreed. “But until we figure out our next move, there’s little else we can do.”
Chapter Eleven
After they’d all had a quick bite to eat, Ben returned to his room to finish his drawing while Regan remained in the kitchen to clean up. As for Marcus, he disappeared in the bathroom, only to return minutes later a changed man. He’d abandoned his customary black-on-black in favor of an army-style shirt, a pair of blue jeans and tan-colored construction boots.
Regan’s lips tingled with a smile. “Love the new getup.”
He pinned her with a scalding stare, which only made her stifle a laugh. “Wait till you see the outfit I picked out for you.”
All her amusement vanished. “Was that really necessary?” She still had her backpack, where she’d tucked a few
Anger blazing in her eyes, she tore down the faded wooden steps toward him. “Where the hell have you been? I thought you ran out on us. I would’ve called you but I can’t seem to find my phone.”
“I threw it out along with mine.”
“Why’d you do that? Last I checked our cells were untraceable.”
He gave her a pointed look, surprised at how clueless she was. “Not to Cal they aren’t.” Marcus tossed a bag her way, and she caught it effortlessly. “We needed supplies…and a ride. Unless you want me to carry you again.” His gaze trailed over her body, lingering long enough to be suggestive. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, but he couldn’t help it. Regan always managed to bring out the worst in him.
A blush dusted her cheeks, and she bristled to hide her discomfort. He’d always loved the way she did that—used anger to mask her vulnerability, as though it could somehow shield her, not only from others but herself. “No thanks. Can’t picture you lifting both me and that huge ego of yours.”
“I managed all right yesterday.” He grabbed another bag, cut a path toward the house. “Where’s the kid?”
“In his room drawing. I found some paper and an old box of crayons, figured he could use the distraction.”
She followed him into the kitchen, where she placed the bags on the counter and began rummaging through them. Arching a brow, she pulled out a loaf of bread and a couple of cans of Spam. “Is this your idea of gourmet dining?”
“Best there is when you’re on the run.” He got to work emptying the other bags. “The Jeep has a decent amount of trunk space, but you can’t exactly fit a fridge in there.”
Deep grooves lined her forehead. “So we’re leaving?” Her voice tinkled with a note of regret.
His hands stilled. “We can’t stay here, Regan. As fun as it’s been playing house with you, we’ve got to keep moving if we don’t want the Watchers to track us down.”
The sun’s silvery rays slashed through the window, brightening one side of her face. Half in the shadows and half drenched in sunlight, she painted an ironic picture. The Watchers were creatures of both righteous integrity and pervasive darkness. Each day they fought their dark nature to remain in the light. Some succeeded, many failed, but Regan was undoubtedly one of the purest among them. She’d never ingested a soul, maybe because her link to her own soul was so strong, which would explain her uncommon ability to feel.
“You’re their best tracker. Without you they’ll be hard-pressed to find us.” She turned sideways, and the shadows greedily swallowed her.
“Thomas shows promise. With me gone, he’ll finally get the chance to test his wings.”
“We can’t run forever.” The grim reality of the situation was finally sinking in, and hopelessness dulled the confident lilt he was accustomed to hearing in her voice.
“No, we can’t,” he agreed. “But until we figure out our next move, there’s little else we can do.”
Chapter Eleven
After they’d all had a quick bite to eat, Ben returned to his room to finish his drawing while Regan remained in the kitchen to clean up. As for Marcus, he disappeared in the bathroom, only to return minutes later a changed man. He’d abandoned his customary black-on-black in favor of an army-style shirt, a pair of blue jeans and tan-colored construction boots.
Regan’s lips tingled with a smile. “Love the new getup.”
He pinned her with a scalding stare, which only made her stifle a laugh. “Wait till you see the outfit I picked out for you.”
All her amusement vanished. “Was that really necessary?” She still had her backpack, where she’d tucked a few
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