Running was imperative. I had to get Maggie somewhere safe so I could see how badly she was hurt, but like in war, we had to get out of the hot zone or we both would die. Long, swift strides took us several blocks from the club where I hailed a cab.

Still bleeding, I cradled Maggie like a baby and climbed in the back seat. “The Parkland Hotel parking garage!” I ordered. There was no way I’d take her back to her tour bus. We needed a safe space—one without video cameras and located outside the search perimeter they would set up around the club. “If you can get us there in under ten minutes, there’s an extra hundred in it for you.”

The cabbie nodded and took off. His eyes flicked to look at us in the rearview mirror, but he never asked any of the questions I saw reflected in them. With one hand, I pulled my black t-shirt over my head and pressed it to Maggie’s shoulder, trying to slow the blood loss. With the other hand, I slipped my cell from my pocket and called my team.

“Ben! Code red!” I knew by his sudden silence that he recognized my meaning. “Meet me in the parking garage in ten minutes. Bring the med kit.” My words were clipped, and I ended the call before he could ask any questions. Every time we worked in a new city, we set up emergency rendezvous points. Ben knew which garage I meant and how important this was.

Maggie still hadn’t opened her eyes since she’d passed out in the club. Blood oozed thick and black from the hole in her shoulder. It had slowed, but it still worried me. This guy needs killing. I wrapped my shirt firmly around her shoulder to cover the hole both in front and back.

I didn’t believe in coincidences. The stalking had escalated from threats to kidnapping to attempted murder. Maggie’s lifestyle wasn’t safe, but I was going to make sure she stayed alive whether she liked my methods or not. The woman may have thought she was stubborn, but I was ready to take headstrong to a whole new level.

The cheery yellow cab rounded the corners on two wheels, taking us airborne as it flew into the parking garage of our hotel. “Third floor. Opposite the elevators,” I ordered, pulling the promised bonus from my wallet and bundling Maggie back into my arms.

Ben waited by the black Suburban, our big medical duffel at his feet.

“Hey, boss.” He reached to help me with Maggie.

I nodded at the trunk. “Open the back.”

Beep. Beep.

He hit the button on the key fob, and the back hatch dinged as it slowly rose up on its own. I laid Maggie’s limp form on the trunk liner and ripped her zombie t-shirt open. Untying my shirt from her shoulder, I exposed the raw holes in her flesh. Ben sized the situation up instantly and was ready with disinfectant and gauze pads.

Maggie flinched but never regained consciousness as I poured alcohol into the gaping wound or when I lifted her up to access the exit wound on her back. I pressed gauze to both sides, the blindingly white cotton staining dark red immediately as I taped it into place.

“I think you’re gonna have to stitch it up, boss,” Ben said.

“We don’t have time for that. I don’t know if we were followed. We need to get her out of here fast.”

“What’s the plan?”

“I need a car. Untraceable. Nothing fancy. No computers or GPS or OnStar tracking. Supplies… for a month. Just me and her. You stay here and flush the bastard out. Trust no one who isn’t part of the team. Not her band, not her manager, not the people who clean your hotel rooms.”

“How will we get in touch with you?”

“You won’t. I’ll call you. When I can get to a town with a pay phone, I’ll make contact. Otherwise, you’re in charge.”

Ben was a pro. He didn’t question me or argue. We’d been down this road before, and he knew the drill. He keyed his ear mic, muttering a few words and then focused back on me. “Leo will have a car here in thirty minutes, packed and ready to go.”

“Thank you.” I gazed down at Maggie’s white face and prayed she’d wake up soon.

Gravel crunched under the worn tires of the faded blue Pontiac as I drove up the winding mountain road. I drove through the night to get here, going north to go south, changing direction under highway overpasses, taking random backroads, and changing untraceable beater cars three times. We were almost at our destination, and to my relief, Maggie was finally starting to wake up.

“Maggie? Maggie, are you with me?” I craned my neck to try and look at her, an unmoving mound in the backseat.

“Owwwwwwww,” she groaned and attempted to sit up before falling back in pain. She panted as she rested against the pillow I’d propped her up on in the backseat. “What happened?” I watched her through the rearview mirror as she realized where she was… or wasn’t. “Where are we?”

“We were at the club, and you were shot.” I bit back my thoughts on the stupidity of being at the club in the first place. Now really wasn’t the time.

“Why am I in a car?” She tried to sit up again, supporting her weight on her good arm.

“Don’t move. You’ll start bleeding again.” I just needed her to hang on a little bit longer until we got to the cabin.

She chuffed at me, her breath catching at the end in pain. She tried to peer out the window from where she lay, her eyes boring into the darkness. The moon’s feeble rays failed to penetrate the thick layer of pine trees blanketing the mountain. Our route wound through the deep shadows, curving around the side of the mountain. “Why are we in the woods?”

“We are going somewhere I can keep you safe while my team figures out who’s trying to kill you.” I knew she wasn’t going to like it, but I was out of options.

“I can’t leave. I have a tour schedule. I have to be in Houston tomorrow. Or… today? Wait… what day is it? Is it tomorrow yet?” She rubbed her head and squinted over the seat back, trying to read the glowing red numbers on the tiny digital dash clock.

“You won’t be going to Houston.” I took a deep breath before breaking the bad news. I knew she was about to eat me alive. “Your tour is cancelled until further notice.”

“You can’t cancel my tour!” she screeched, momentarily forgetting her injury and trying to come over the seat at me. “I have responsibilities to my fans!” She hung half over the seat, wildly grabbing for the wheel to turn us around.

I swatted her hands away and hit the brakes, slamming her back into her seat. “Ah!” I could barely hear her weak cry. She slumped over, no longer fighting me. I felt guilty for causing her pain, but we had to get a few things straight.

“I’m sorry, Maggie.” I met her eyes in the mirror. “We tried it your way, and I almost lost you. It’s my job to keep you safe, and I failed. Now we do it my way.”

She sat dumbly, clutching her shoulder as big, fat tears started to roll down her cheeks. She was not a quiet crier. Her sobs grew in volume, broken only by hiccups and the occasional sniff. I saw the deep glint of dark red reflecting through her fingers. Dammit. She’s bleeding again.

I started the car rolling back up the mountain before turning it down an even narrower dirt road almost completely obscured by trees and brush. If I hadn’t known it was there, I would have missed the turn off. It had been a long time since I or anyone else had come that way.

“Why?” she cried.

“Why what?”

“Why me? Why is someone trying to kill me?” She sniffled plaintively. “What did I do?”