Emma
For several seconds after Nash said Derek was gone, nobody moved.
The truck idled beneath us, the heater blowing warm air against my legs while rain ticked softly against the windshield.
My hand was still inside Jake’s.
“Derek is gone?” I finally asked.
Nash leaned forward between the seats, phone still in his hand. “That’s what Sterling was told.”
“People don’t just disappear from federal custody.”
“No,” Jake said quietly. “They don’t.”
Something in his voice scared me more than shouting would have.
I looked at him.
His entire body had changed. His shoulders were rigid, his jaw locked, his eyes fixed straight ahead. I knew that look now. Jake was already ten moves ahead, imagining roads, airports, weapons, men he could call.
And probably several ways to kill my husband.
I
