The drive lower back to the safehouse was traumatic and silent. The only sounds had been the rumble of the truck’s engine and the occasional clatter of unfastened equipment in the again. Kylie sat within the passenger seat, her hands tapping an uneven rhythm in opposition to her thigh as she stole glances at Roberto. He was pale, gripping the wheel tightly, his jaw clenched in ache.
“You have to allow me to drive,” Kylie said softly.
“I’m great,” Roberto spoke back, his voice tight.
“You’re no longer,” Micah cut in from the backseat. “You’re pushing yourself too hard.”
“I said I’m first-rate,” Roberto snapped, his frustration spilling over.
Kylie exchanged a glance with Micah however allowed the problem to drop. They had larger problems to address beginning with Finch.
As they neared
