Page 12 of Devoted

Doing the job Kase’s way was familiar and foreign at the same time. Jacobi looped security footage as soon as I crossed into Bel Air, and when I neared the mansion, he’d disengaged the electric locks.

Everything electronic can be hacked or overridden, my friend.

I’ll never doubt him again.

Kase told me the entry points he’d use and all the ways he’d extract someone. It seemed easy for him, and he’d scoffed. It’s a rich asshole with a lot of money. It’s not maximum security.

We nearly got busted, but she’s free. She’s no longer Roman’s pawn.

I rock as Kase takes turn after turn. Anyone following us will have a hard time tailing him.

Time ticks by. Penelope stays quiet on the floor. Did she fall asleep? No. No one could sleep after what she’s been through. She’s scared and probably confused.

“Five minutes,” Kase says, his voice rough like he’s disguising himself from Penelope. It’s not that he doesn’t trust her, but the less she knows about the breaking and entering of her husband’s place, the better.

There’s always the chance she’ll believe Roman and go back to him. But after seeing her curled up on the cot in a locked studio, I don’t think so.

Getting watched by strangers while she’s sleeping. I could’ve burned that whole damn place down with Roman in it. But she comes first.

Penelope lifts her head. “Five minutes for what?” There’s a tremble in her voice. When we’re safe, I can comfort her. If she’ll ever let me touch her again.

“We’re switching vehicles.”

I make out her blink in the dark. She didn’t expect me to answer. She hasn’t been getting a lot of answers. Yet she came with me without a fight.

I’d been prepared to sedate her and carry her out. She doesn’t need to know that.

“How’s your leg?” I ask.

“Hurts.”

She doesn’t give me more, and I let her be. It’s been a traumatic few weeks. A harried couple of days. Attempts on her life. Kidnapped and imprisoned by the husband she’s divorcing. Rescued by the man she was told was paid millions to kill her.

The woman is used to performing under pressure. She’s used to handling her emotions under stress. She’s also used to hiding what she’s feeling.

The urge to explain more about what happened tonight passes when the van starts slowing. We’re not done with our escape yet.

Kase and I work like we’ve done this together a thousand times. He opens the doors. The road is quiet and there are no stoplights, businesses, or houses that face the trailhead the vehicle is parked in. It’s a random place for a car at this time of night, but no security cameras and no prying eyes.

I help Penelope out, but before she can stand on her hurt leg, I sweep her into my arms. She makes a startled noise, but otherwise remains quiet. Her injuries are better than a gunshot. She could probably walk, but I need to hold her.

Kase is ready with the rear passenger door of the SUV. He uses the door to block her from getting a good view of him. I set her down. “You’ll need to lie across the back seat. Traffic cams.”

She stares at me for a moment, then does as I ask, gingerly pulling her legs in. There’s enough ambient light to see the tears in her leggings and that one ankle is noticeably larger than the other.

She’s the only innocent one. It’s not fair she was the one who got hurt.

Kase hands me the keys. “Call if you need anything.”

He roars off in the van. The whole exchange took less than ninety seconds.

I get in and drive away. “We’re going to my place. It’s what the safe house was supposed to be.”

“They found us there.”

“They were tracking us. Tracking you, through your phone.” A mistake I shouldn’t have made, but it wasn’t like we were worried about Find My Phone in Iraq. If I had consulted Kase earlier, it never would’ve happened. Instead, I couldn’t admit that I was getting close to her, so I worked alone. My pride cost her. “No one knows about my place.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

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