My heart’s hammering in my chest as I peek out the back door of the club, scanning the lot carefully. It’s nearly deserted. The soundproofing is good and nobody heard the shots. If it wasn’t for Dominick getting on the radio, nobody on security would have known.

So there isn’t a panicked rush of customers running for their cars. Part of me wishes there was. It’d help cover what I’m about to do. Instead, I’m forced to lead Meghan across the parking lot by her arm in a quick walk, looking more like I’m escorting a drunk customer than helping her flee for her life.

I aim for my truck. It’s closer than Meghan’s car, and a lot more secure. Hitting the unlock button on my remote, I shove her in the rear seat of the crew cab from the driver’s door, hopping in behind her and yanking my door closed. I’d like to be gentle, but right now isn’t the time for gentleness. It’s the time for action.

“Buckle up,” I instruct her, and thank fuck, she listens and sits up, reaching for the belt as I start the truck. It takes all of my willpower to pull out of the lot calmly and not put the pedal to the floorboard and peel out. I know that Nick’s still out here somewhere, and Logan might be around too. I can’t take the risk that two guys, one of whom I trained, might react.

Right now, eyes on us is the last thing we want. The parking lot cameras are bad enough. I know Dominick’s going to check the tapes when he notices that Meghan and I are gone, but hopefully, he’ll be so distracted with Allie that we’re far away before he does.

It’s not that I don’t care about Allie. She’s a nice girl who I hope is fine, but I know Dom cares about her. He’d never touch a hair on her head. Meghan, though . . . I have to protect her.

Meghan is quiet, curled in on herself, with her feet in the seat and knees hugged tightly, obviously in shock as we hit the highway.

As my truck growls its way up to eighty, chewing up pavement and spitting out miles and minutes between us and what she saw, she finally settles. I watch her out of the corner of my eye, never taking my awareness off the road in front of us or the cars behind us to make sure we’re not being followed. Can’t be too safe.

I can see Meghan willing her mind to focus, taking deep breaths that she holds for a two-count before letting them out slowly. Still, after five miles, her body is still shaking, her hands trembling as she reaches up to adjust where the shoulder belt is rubbing against her bare neck. And when I meet her eyes in the rearview mirror, they’re wide, but with a turn of my head, I can see that they’re at least clear as she starts processing things. “What are we doing? Where are we going?”

I nod, shifting my eyes back to the road. “Those are great questions. And I promise to answer them, but what you really need to know right now is that I’ll keep you safe. I’m taking you somewhere secure until all this blows over.”

She opens her mouth to ask more questions, always inquisitive, but right now, we don’t have time for her to be curious. I hold up my right hand, silencing her. “Angel, I promise. Just give me a minute to get us where we need to be.”

The nickname subdues her, even as her eyebrows perk up. She’s so smart. Her mind ticks along in a way that’s impressed me since I first met her. But she closes her mouth, looking around as I exit the highway and head to a deserted lot on the outskirts of town, just before we get to the truck stops that mark the way west.

I pull in next to a covered car, knowing that underneath is a four-door sedan that looks like a million others on the road. That’s the point. I want us to look like any other car that might be out right now, and as ‘un-Shane-like’ as I can get.

Grabbing her backpack from the floor, I rifle through and grab her cellphone, leaning forward to drop it to the floorboard. I do the same with mine and then grab a duffle bag from behind the seat. “Okay, when I say go, open your door calmly, get out, and get in the car next to you. I’m doing the same.”

“What about our phones?” she asks, reaching forward. “Why did you put them in the floorboard? I need that.”

I place a hand on her forearm, the touch electric as I feel the tremble of her muscles underneath my fingertips. “Nope. They’re traceable, like my truck, and we’ve got to be ghosts until we figure out what’s going on.”

She sputters, looking at me with renewed fear in her eyes. “Traceable? Ghosts? What the heck are you talking about?”

“Go,” I order. “There’s time for answers later. I promise you that, but for now . . . go.”

I open my door, snatching the corner of the dust cover on the sedan and pulling it back, revealing a ten-year-old Ford before grabbing the spare key from the magnetic box hidden in the rear wheel well and climbing into the driver’s seat. I hit the unlock button, relieved when Meghan opens her door and buckles up, her eyes full of questions, but she keeps her silence as I start up the Ford.

Thank fuck.

With a turn of the key, we’re back on the road, heading way out of East Robinsville. As we drive, the reality of the situation hits me.

Fuck. This has gone so damn sideways.

How much do I tell Meghan? There are secrets piled on top of secrets around her, and the layers go so deep that sometimes even I don’t quite remember which way is up.

How much does she already know? It’s common knowledge not to cross Dominick, but just how much does she understand?

She’s quiet in the seat next to me, scanning around us occasionally but mostly watching the scenery blur by, but I know her silence won’t last long. She’s just too curious.

“Your truck?” she says after a bit, and I shrug. “What’s that mean?”

“I mean that if it gets stolen, it gets stolen,” I reply. “That lot’s pretty out of the way. Decent chance it might be unnoticed.”

“And this thing?”

“Just an old car. I promise to explain. Just wait a bit longer.”

My answer silences her for a bit, and it’s almost dawn when we pull over at a no-tell motel in the middle of nowhere. I know where half a dozen of these places are around the area, places that are desperate enough to take cash without too many questions but not so rundown as to become crack houses that’ll attract the attention of the police.

I run inside and rent a room under a fake name, paying cash before parking and shepherding Meghan inside. Closing the door behind us, I lock it and peek out the window. We’re clear.

But as I look back to see Meghan perched on the edge of the bed, so tiny but her eyes sparking with anger, I know the grace period of time I asked for is over. Hell, considering the worn-out carpet, dingy walls, and patched bed cover, I’d be pissed too, even if I was clueless about the rest.

“Okay,” I start before she can say anything. “Where do we start?”