Page 36 of Hyde

I nod, unable to speak. It takes her gentle nudge to make me move so she can do what I asked her to.

Crossing back out to the front room, I keep an eye in the sky for the drone that I saw circling the property at least twice this morning.

With a little luck, the fact that my bike’s in the barn might buy us more time. If the drone is being operated by the same group from the airport, they’ll have my plate number, in addition to the make and model.

“I’m going now,” Leslee’s soft voice comes from behind me. “Why don’t you come with me? We can walk until…”

“No. Get going. Stay in the tunnel until I call you on that,” I tell her, looking down to the radio in her hand. “If you don’t hear from me by nightfall, make your way to that diner in town and ask the waitress to call Alex. They all know her. Keep your head down, but stay there until she comes for you.”

Now, the smart thing for me to do, would be to leave my bike behind and take the old truck that Alex leaves on the property.

But without any idea of when I’ll be back this way, I can’t part with it. Still not seeing the drone, I quickly lock up the house and cross to the barn. Getting situated, I check the skies again and text Alex, letting her know she’ll want to clean out the fridge and apologizing for leaving without cleaning up.

Considering the bedroom reeks of sex, she’s going to give me shit for years to come.

Stopping about thirty yards away from the hidden exit to the tunnel, I give Leslee the all clear and jump on my phone. Whoever’s hunting my Ol’ Lady will be looking for this bike, so a moving van is our best bet for now.

I hand my helmet off to Leslee when she approaches and I nod, more to myself, in appreciation of her silence. Time is of the essence, but it’s when she wraps her arms around me, slipping one of her small hands under my cut that I realize how fast my heart is beating beneath her palm.

In her own way, she’s letting me know she understands that I’m running on adrenaline, and she trusts me to get her through this. With a little luck, we’ll have time to discuss it later.

*

Driving past the truck rental location, I scout the area a bit before deciding to drop Leslee off at a Catholic church that’s just up the road.

Without any way of knowing the reach that this cartel has, I’d rather not leave a trail of witnesses that have seen us together.

“Take my phone,” I tell her, reclaiming my helmet when she slides off the seat behind me. “Call Flint and tell him we’re in Asheville and I’m going to rent a truck so I can load up my bike.”

“What happened back there?” she asks me.

“There was a drone circling the house. Gotta keep moving, babe. Get on inside.”

I soften my brusque words with a quick kiss and smack her ass. Suddenly looking over her shoulder as an image of nun with a ruler comes to mind.

Waiting just long enough for her to open the intricately carved wooden door, I turn back to the rental location and deal with that.

Just under an hour later, I pull the rented truck into the church parking lot and head inside. My pulse kicks up a notch when I don’t see anyone sitting in the pews and I lengthen my stride as I get closer to the altar.

I pause before the four steps separating the pews to where all the holy stuff happens, wondering which way I should go and that’s when I hear her laugh. It’s quickly followed by deeper peals of laughter, and I turn to follow the sound.

“Dammit, Le-Lee,” I mutter after I’ve been standing in a doorway to some sort of office for several minutes, listening to her exchangingDad Jokeswith a couple of priests as they all sip red wine.

“Wait, one more!” The older of the two priests says, acting as though he only just noticed me. “A man walks up to a priest and says, ‘I’m Jesus Christ.’ The priest naturally replies, ‘No, you’re not, my son.’ The man says he can prove it and asks the priest to follow him. They walk a couple of blocks down and enter a bar. ‘Jesus Christ, you’re back again?’ The bartender yells out.”

“That one’s older than she is,” the younger one chides his associate as the three of them chuckle.

“Joe, what did Tennessee?” Leslee asks me with a silly grin on her face.

I take a deep breath and even though I close my eyes before exhaling, I know the two priests are studying me, waiting to see if I’ll bite. “The same thing as Arkansas. Gentlemen, I don’t mean to be rude, but we need to get on the road.”

“Ms. Sorenson, it’s been a delight! Now, you have my number, be sure to text me and if we can help you with accommodations, we will,” the older priest says, standing to shake her hand, before turning to pin me with his gaze. “You take good care of this young lady, Mr. Kelly.”

“I intend to,” I reassure him, nodding to each of them as Leslee reaches out for my hand. It’s not easy, but I wait until we’re outside before I ask, “What the hell just happened there?”

“Well, you told me to call your dad,” she starts, and my eyes widen at her referring to Flint as my dad. I mean, he is the closest thing I have to one, but I’ve never called him anything but his given name. “And he recommended that we stay south until we’re past Texas then cut north. When I hung up with him, I noticed the older priest and it turns out his last name is also Kelly. He’s visiting from the Boston area and when I looked confused, he told me that the Catholic Church owns a lot of property—besides the obvious, they have retreat houses andhomes for their priests and nuns. So, I took a chance and asked him for confession.”

“Did you become Catholic in the last four years?” I ask, somewhat dumbfounded by this whole explanation. Hell, Ma’s Catholic so I can live with that, I’ve just never found the Sorensons to be particularly religious.

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