There isn't much more I can add to this situation to make it any dirtier than it already is. I have Isabelle by the elbow, refusing to release her from my grip due to the massive goose egg sticking out of her head. Her pupils are still dilated, and I don't trust that she can stand up straight, or that she doesn't have at minimum a mild concussion.

"Let go of me, Axel," she hisses again. "Or just let me sleep.”

"No. Be quiet," I tell her.

"I'll scream. You know what TSA will do to you?"

"First, we’re on a private jet. There’s no TSA. Second, if there were TSA, do you know what they'd do to you … Isabelle?" I remind her that she isn't safe and that she's still on the run despite the promise of safety I offered her.

"Both of you … shut up," Everett says. "Can we just get the fuck off this jet?"

"Don’t tell me to shut up!” she tells Everett.

"Jesus, stop it," he snaps.

I keep my mouth shut until we’re out of the building beneath the jet’s landing pad. Thankfully, we find Chuck waiting out front.

I open the back door, helping Isabelle into the car, but she pulls her arm from my grip and jumps in. Everett sits in the front seat, which is a relief for the moment because the three of us being smashed in the backseat isn't ideal.

"Drop me off on Mass Avenue," Isabelle tells Chuck.

I catch Chuck's eye in the rearview mirror and with a slight shake of my head, tell him to ignore her. He doesn't respond to Isabelle's request and peels away from the curb.

I reach over and try to take Isabelle's hand, despite being as ticked off at her as she is at me right now. She doesn't comply, though. "Don't touch me."

"Easy,” I tell her. "Relax. You don’t need to be getting all worked up after hitting your head as hard as you did.”

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" she asks, twisting her entire body to stare me down. "You think another person's innocence is less important than your own?"

I don't know how much she knows about me or my past, only what she has said so far. I want to tell her everything but now isn't the time.

"You know who I am," I tell her.

"Well then, tell me why you were you going to prison. Tell me who died because of you, and why they died."

I clear my throat, holding my focus on the rearview mirror where Chuck will look if he has concern. While I know he has no issue ignoring everything he hears in this car, there are some things that need to remain private.

"You want to know why Axel was arrested?" Everett asks like it's a big joke. "Because he's a fucking moron."

I throw my head back into the leather seat, knowing there is no way of getting out of this car without my life's secrets being exposed.

"I think I've figured that part out," Isabelle says to Everett.

"Oh!" Everett shouts, sounding like he's watching a football game. "Did you ever go to that bar, ‘Dawgbar,’ on the other side of Fenway?"

"Yeah," Isabelle says, sounding unamused and confused. "Why?"

"You should have seen what happened the night Axel got dumped by this chick he was dating."

"You're an asshole," I tell him, knowing he isn't going to stop.

"So, imagine this, Axel gets dumped by this hot, older woman, right? We hit up the bar so he can get shit drunk to forget about her, and who do you think walks into the bar? This isn’t even a dumb joke. This is true, real life shit."

Isabelle looks over at me after staring at the side of Everett's face. I can't tell if it's remorse in her eyes or empathy. In either case, I'd like to jump out of the car before this conversation goes any further. "The ex?" Isabelle asks with a dumbfounded look on her face. Everett might be trying to reveal my past, but he’s making himself sound like a real dick at the same time.

"Yup. She sees Axel, and decides to dig the grave for their relationship a little deeper into the ground by hitting on half the dudes at the bar."

"So, you got into a bar fight and then got arrested?" Isabelle asks. Her mood changes and she sounds like she’s on the verge of laughing rather than being irritated like she was a moment ago. Except Everett’s storytelling skills are worthless because that's not how it went down.

"Nice that you'd think that little of me, but no, that's not what happened, and I don't feel the need to defend myself to either of you," I tell them.

"I don't care if you defend yourself. I'm allowed to think what I want to think," Isabelle comes back at me.

"No one really knows what happened,” Everett says with a snide laugh. "I was in the bathroom when shit went down.”

"Jesus, do you not know when to stop?" I ask him.

"Well, I'd say I learned from your actions, but you don't exactly know when to stop either, am I right?"

"Fellas," Chuck says. "Enough! It's obvious you all need a minute to cool your jets. Take it easy, will ya?"

Chuck doesn't usually get involved in our spats or speak to us like this, but he's partially the reason we're all here. The driving gig is his form of retirement without having to leave the business. He's the eyes and ears, disguised as an old man doing nothing more than listening to whatever thoughts are aimlessly rolling through his head. He works directly for Agent Roberts, but he’s a good guy and a hell of a lot nicer than Roberts.

Harley unlatches her seatbelt and scoots forward. "Let me tell you three something. The second this car stops, I'm gone. I want nothing to do with this shit, your lies, your secrets, and whatever the hell I've managed to get myself into here. You don't want to be honest with me about a damn thing, so I'm done."

"You're not leaving," I tell her.

She snaps around so quickly, it looks like her head might come loose. "See, here's the thing, Axel, you don't get to tell me what to do. You were hired to chase and find me, and congrats on that major accomplishment. It takes a real psychopath to stalk the crap out of some woman he once knew. The one thing you didn't think through, though, was how you'd manage to keep stringing me along when you haven't the slightest clue on how to treat a woman—you know, since that was your angle and all—get her into bed with you, and she'll just become putty in your hands, right?"

Everett's chuckling from the front seat and I'm about to hit him good, but I have to figure out how the hell I'm going to keep Isabelle locked down. If she leaves, we're all fucked. "She's got a good point," Everett says as he folds his arms behind his neck like the cocky bastard he's being.

We're pulling up in front of the hotel, and I want to tell Chuck to keep driving, but he's not into the whole hostage thing, so that won't fly. "Listen to me," Chuck says. "The three of ya’s got some shit to work out. I suggest you all come clean and figure out how you can work together to keep yourselves safe. The gig is up, Axel. You screwed up in D.C. You have been spotted with Isabelle, and you don't have a whole lot of time before things go down the shitter. You got me?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" I ask him. "Why are you just spitting this out now?"

"You've been too busy bickering like children," he says.

"Who spotted us?" I ask him.

"It's not important," Chuck says. "Roberts is on his way here.”

"The hell it isn't important," I tell him.

"You think you have time to argue with me?" Chuck says. "Both of you get out of the car, take Harley somewhere safe, and figure out how you're going to get out of the firing range, then let me know what you decide. Oh, and I suggest one of you get her up to date on the truth."

I can't get myself to look over at Isabelle. I'm too focused on my own rage at the moment. I've been so careful, and I go and get my feelings tied up with her and now we're all done. I've put her in more danger than she was already in, and Everett and I are damned now too.

"Look, can we talk?" I ask Isabelle. "Calmly." I hold my hands up so she knows I'm being truthful, but I don't know what's going through her head right now. That's one thing I'll never figure out. She's got those thoughts of hers locked up so tightly, I don't think the best of the CIA could crack her code.

Isabelle's hand reaches for the door handle, so I grab her arm. "You don't understand. You can't just leave."

"No, Axel," she says, pulling away. "You don't understand. I've been on the run for almost a year, and I've managed on my own and kept to myself. The last thing I need is you holding me down right now. You had your chance, and you did a damn good job of holding your web of lies together, but I'm not saying it again ... this is over."

She's out the door as I lunge to grab ahold of her again, but she's quicker than I am in my frenzied state.

"Axel,” Chuck says quietly and calmly. "Take care of yourself, kid. Just know … you’re going to be okay.” What the hell is he talking about?

"Ah, thanks, Chuck.” I try to brush away the confusion from his statement as I jump out of the car, and Everett follows as we begin the chase I knew was coming at some point.

Of course, it's dark and the middle of the goddamn night, which is going to make this harder than it has to be, but her legs are half the size of mine.

She got a twenty-foot head start, and I'm beginning to think the girl must have been a track star at some point in her life because she can fucking run. Then again, she's used to running away from shit. I mean, running in an evening dress should slow her down, but she took her heels off in the car and it's not affecting her in the slightest. My dress shoes, however, are leaving holes in the back of my heels.

Despite the obnoxious pain, I continue after her, yelling her damn fake name through the streets. I don't feel Everett on my heels, so I'm assuming between the dress shoes and his water-weighted muscles, he's having a rough time keeping up. How the hell can she outrun us? We're trained for this shit. Or, at least, we've trained for this.

She makes it across a street and a fucking SUV separates us, stopping at the curb to let someone out. I move to the side to see around the vehicle, but by the time I get visibility of the sidewalk, it's clear. There's no one in sight. I change my direction and head down the street the car stopped on, figuring she's heading down a dark alley. That seems like something Isabelle would do just for shits and giggles.

My chest beings to ache when I reach the end of the alley because she isn't down here. She must have been hiding in the nook of a storefront, which means she's gone now unless Everett managed to catch up.

I grab my phone and open the GPS to find the two of them, but Everett's back at the hotel, and Isabelle is supposedly still standing at the corner of the street I'm on, which I doubt, seeing as I can see every square-foot of the area from where I’m standing. I jog back down to the corner, looking in every direction, but I don't see her anywhere. I call her phone and see the damn thing lighting up on the curb against the brick building I'm in front of. It’s no surprise that she'd toss her phone. She's fucking smarter than I am.

Shit.

"Harley, where the fuck are you?" I shout through anger. I know she's not going to respond because I know she probably can't even fucking hear me.

I call Chuck up, waiting the long ring for him to answer. "She's gone," I tell him.

"Well, you better keep looking," he says.

"Thanks. Want to give me a hand?"

"Axel, I told you I'm too old for this shit."

"You got me into this. Now, help me," I tell him.

"I got you into this?" he asks. I can hear a wrath bubbling in his voice, one I haven't heard in years. Chuck keeps calm. It's one of his best qualities. The man doesn't get worked up or angry. He just handles shit with a straight face.

"I kept you from going to prison by keeping you in line, Axel—all I was doing was following Roberts’s orders. Don’t give me the credit I don’t deserve, son," he tells me.

"Yeah, well, I think I would have been better off in prison," I respond.

"You think so, huh?" he asks. "I can arrange it, Axel. Just say the word."