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Spanish moss. It had been three hours since she’d contacted him. He hoped she’d been asleep all this time. 
    “Thanks for the ride,” he grated. He unlatched the door and was stepping out onto the wing when a large hand clamped down on his shoulder.
    As fast and strong as Drake was, he hadn’t inherited his father’s stature. He had no choice but to halt and look back at him. “What?”
    “That’s it? You’re going to go off on your own? I thought you were smarter than that.”
    Considering the trouble Drake might be walking into, he knew he could use his father’s help, but not when Connor offered it like that. Besides, the options running through his mind weren’t exactly by-the-book. He didn’t want to get his father in trouble if he chose to go vigilante.  
    “I guess I’m not,” he countered. Yanking free of Connor’s hold, he slammed the hatch behind him and leapt to the spongy ground with his duffle bag.
    Jogging toward the bright lights of the General Aviation Terminal, he placed a call on his cell phone to Hertz Car Rental. His alias, Tom Keane the yacht salesman, would have a vehicle waiting by the time he reached the lot.
    He figured his father would fly off in disgust shortly. After all, leaving was what Connor did best.  

Chapter Three
     
    Skyler dozed in fitful spurts, waking periodically with her heart in her throat.
    Had she dreamed someone was knocking on her motel door or was it real?
    Groggy with sleep, she rolled out of bed and stumbled past her lit bathroom. Wiping a grain of sleepy dust from one eye, she went up on tiptoe to peer through the door’s peephole.
    The familiar sight of Drake wearing a hoodie made her heart leap with joy. He had dressed like that when pretending to be a teenager at the homeless shelter her father had used to launder his money. It was there that they’d met—her as a volunteer, him as a runaway in search of a new beginning. The hood was pulled up over his head, leaving his face in shadow, but she’d have recognized him anywhere.
    With a dry mouth and fingers that could scarcely unlatch the safety chain, Skyler hauled the door open. Drake! Her cry of anticipation curtailed abruptly as the light from her bathroom hit his face. No, not Drake . She was letting in a total stranger.
    She tried to back up, to slam the door on him, only the stranger was stronger. Forcing it open, he shoved his way inside and pinned her against the closet with his sturdy frame. A moist cloth came out of nowhere, covering her mouth and nose and stifling her screams.
    Caustic fumes scalded Skyler’s airways. She caught her breath and fought her captor’s cruel grip, but he was stronger. In her panic, she saw two more strangers slip into the room, including the man who’d taken her picture yesterday. Ordering his accomplice to fetch her belongings, he watched with a smirk as her attacker subdued her.
    Desperate for air, Skyler’s lungs convulsed. Cloying vapor seared her throat, and darkness pooled at the edges of her eyes.
    How did these men even find me here?
    Anguish speared her as she felt her consciousness slipping. She’d come so close to seeing Drake again. 
     
    **
     
    Drake pushed the elevator button for the third floor. Then he jabbed the close-door button until the elevator finally lurched upward. The adrenaline juggernauting through his system rocked him on his feet. Anxiety twisted his intestines.
    He had dreamt of the moment when he and Sky would be reunited; every one of those dreams had been impossibly sweet—not like this. Foreboding robbed him of any pleasant anticipation. 
    For Centurions to have found her three times, WITSEC had to have unintentionally leaked her location. If WITSEC couldn’t keep her safe then who could?
    I can.
    He pictured them running away together to a place like Thailand, where his sister, a CIA case officer, was assigned. Imagine making love to Skyler whenever he pleased and watching her graceful interactions with the