Page 57 of Sizzling

Wilder leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “That’s what I thought. You can’t leave her. So, go back. See where this takes you.”

“She’s not like Oakley,” I argued like that fucking mattered.

He grinned. “No, she’s not. No one is as perfect as Oak. But it’s not fair to measure her against another woman either. Oak’s taken, and family or not, I’d put a bullet in any man who tried to take her from me.”

I didn’t want Oakley. That wasn’t what I was saying, and he knew it. Drinking down the rest of my beer, I took out my phone and checked the tracking on Briar. Her car was still at the apartment. But she wasn’t. She was moving.

“Fuck,” I said, standing up.

“You going north or south?” Wilder asked.

I didn’t take my eyes off the phone. “To hell,” I replied.

“South it is,” he said with a chuckle.

“She’s headed somewhere,” I told him. “But not in her car.”

“She’s not a prisoner in her apartment.”

“No, but someone else tracked her car and wired it.”

Wilder stood up. “And you left her there?” he asked incredulously.

I looked up from the phone and saw the concern in his expression.

“She refused to go with me. I figured she knew who it was and wasn’t worried.”

Wilder’s eyes widened. “Or someone wants to get to you so they’re going through her. Thought of that? When our enemies want to hurt us, they go for our weakness.”

My enemies? I’d never thought of that.

“She’s not my weakness.”

“Is that so? Then, drive your ass on back to Madison and delete that app off your phone. Stop tracking her.”

I knew that would be impossible. I had to get back to Miami. I stood there, saying nothing.

“That’s what I fucking thought,” Wilder drawled. “Weakness.” He walked over to the desk and picked up a file. “Take this with you.”

I reached out and took the folder. “What is it?”

Wilder shrugged. “The fake identity Briar ordered. I’m willing to bet that whoever that is for is the secret she’s keeping.”

• Twenty-Two •

“We got company.”

Briar

The Buick was newer than the Accord had been, but I felt like a grandma, driving it. At least we had more room in the back seat and trunk. Not that we’d acquired anything new at our brief stop in Miami other than a dozen or so new books for Dovie. Finding the trackers had taken me a little longer than I had anticipated, but it was amazing how helpful YouTube could be on just about anything.

I knew Dovie had a million questions about Storm after what she’d heard in the apartment, but I’d not had time for all that when he left. We’d been on a time crunch, and once we were an hour north of Miami, I felt better about things.

Dovie had her shoes off and was curled in the passenger seat, reading a book. I glanced over at her, wondering if she was upset about running again. She hadn’t complained, but she rarely did. Every time we had to go, she went with it.

“We will have to stop at a beach before we get too far north. Maybe Myrtle Beach. I bet they have fabulous tacky matching shirts there.”

We had never made it to the beach, like I’d promised. I wanted to make that up to her.

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