“Come on, come on,” Adam said, getting out of the car and dragging his pack with him. Startled, Talia did as she was bid on her side.
Standing, he pressed his lips to the Diablo’s door. When this war was over, he’d be getting himself another. Damn pity to leave the beauty here, but a much better fate than that of the California.
“Where are we going?” Talia slammed her door.
Adam leaped onto the concrete loading bay and pulled her up beside him. “We need to get to New York, but the Diablo is too conspicuous. We’ll catch a ride out of here and move north.”
Probably have to hot-wire a car. Damn—it’d been years since he’d tried that. Where was Custo when he needed him?
Adam tried the red metal door on the right side of the loading dock. A cigarette still smoldered on the pavement at its stoop. Obligingly, the door was unlocked. Inside, brown boxes with black letters piled three or more high crowded a storage area. Beyond that, dull beige French doors, probably leading to the floor.
Talia’s weight jerked his arm. Oh, no. He looked back, blood rising to fight.
“Bathroom,” she said, eyes pleading.
He glanced around, exhaling his anxiety. He’d totally missed the open door and shiny toilet. A sign to the right read EMPLOYEES ONLY.
“Make it quick,” he said. They didn’t have time for this.
Hugely sighing, Talia ran inside and shut the door.
He scrubbed a hand through his hair. If they got caught and were killed because she needed to pee…He spotted a row of hooks, purses dangling, on the other side of the boxes. Possibility lit in his mind.
He strode over and rummaged inside the first bag for keys. Found them. With any luck, the woman who owned the vehicle would be working until the store closed at—he craned his head to peer at the posted chart of assigned shifts—nine o’clock. No need to put his rusty hot-wiring skills to the test.
“Adam?” Talia’s voice called out softly.
“Here.” He stepped back around the boxes to find her outside the door. He caught Talia’s elbow and gestured to the French doors. “We go straight through and out the front.”
They entered in the shoe department and dashed through a maze of clothing racks and accessories. The store—Saks, according to the name printed in blocky red at one end of the large room—was large, and at least a dozen women perused the clothing. Adam pushed out the front door, crossed the street, and headed into the row of minivans, SUVs, and economy cars.
He pressed the button on the key. A silver Malibu answered with the thick snick of a lock releasing. Not a Diablo by any means, but transportation nonetheless.
Adam motioned to Talia to get in, and soon they were on the road again. He set the cruise control to seventy-two mph. When a convoy of police screamed up his ass on the road behind him, he had Talia duck her conspicuous head and pulled over to the gravelly shoulder. The police tore by, but Adam veered off at the next exit anyway. Local roads and byways, then, for as far as they could take them.
He looked over at Talia. She had her head propped in her hand, elbow on the lip of the passenger window. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”
“Huh,” she laughed, exhausted. “I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again.”
“Why don’t you give it a try? Sit back, close your eyes, and relax. We’ve got a long way to go.”
She lifted an argumentative brow, but hunkered down, crossing her arms over her chest.
When next he looked over, her jaw was slightly slack, lips parted, chin tilted to catch the sun on her face. Talia. Sleeping Beauty. Too bad this wasn’t a fairy tale.
A blaring honk! shattered Talia’s sleep. She clutched the seat and struggled upright, blinking at the wild contrasts of dark city and bright lights.
“Welcome back,” Adam said. His beard was just beginning to show.
“Where are we?” she croaked.
“New York. You’ve been out cold for going on seven hours.” Adam sounded amused; she felt like she’d been hit by a bus.
“What time is it?” She stretched to get the blood flowing and arched her back to ease the tightness at the base of her spine.
“About midnight.” His gaze flicked down to her body, then rested on her face. “You look better. You needed the sleep. Good timing—we’re about to ditch the car; then we’ll go to the loft.”
“The loft?”
“A hidey-hole that Custo and I share, but it’s not traceable to either of us. Here we go—” He turned abruptly, the car dipping into a city parking garage.
Adam stopped the car and got out. Talia followed suit, stretching more fully when she stood.
“We need daily,” Adam said to an approaching attendant.
“That’ll be thirty-five per day.” The young guy looked bored out of his mind.