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“I heard them. All night they were at it,” one of the ladies said loud enough for Tori to hear. She chuckled, amused that despite her harrowing experiences, the world still went on as normal for others.

“What were they doing?” another woman asked the first.

“Racing is what my Jerry said. Buzzing those awful cars up and down the road all night long. Didn't get a wink of sleep.”

Tori's blood turned to ice.

She didn't believe in coincidences. If someone happened to be drag racing on this strip of road, it had to be the Eleventh. What if they were outside right now? What about Emery?

She almost bolted for the door in a blind panic.

One . . .

She could panic for five seconds.

Two . . .

Her heart nearly beat itself silly against her ribs.

Three . . .

She couldn't have moved if she'd wanted to. She'd seen rabbits freeze in front of her car before. Was this how they felt?

Four...

God, what about her sister?

Five . . .

Tori inhaled and grabbed something at random off the shelf in front of her, as if she'd been considering her options. She strolled past the women, but their conversation had moved on to where and when their relatives had served in the military.

She took her bounty to the register and handed it to the teen.

“Two bags of ice, please.”

“It's outside on the left.” The cashier rang up her purchases and she paid, but her mind was a couple hundred miles away in Orlando.

Had CJ told the others of her defection? What did Roni think? Did she know? Was she okay? If they were sending a hit team after her, what about her sister? Was the Eleventh hassling them, too? Were there others going after her?

She accepted her change and threw out a polite, “Thank you,” before heading for the front doors. The beveled glass squares set into the wood made it difficult to discern more than blobs of movement outside. She took another deep breath and concentrated on the feel of the gun tucked into her waistband. The door swung open on well-oiled hinges. She swept her gaze over the campground, but didn't find any thugs or out-of-place cars waiting for her.

Emery was nowhere in sight, which concerned her. He might blow her mind with what he could do, but he was still only one man.

She left the bag of goods on the hood and walked the dozen or so steps to the freezers. The cold air was better than a shot of espresso to her system. She wished she knew when the Eleventh had been here, but asking would have drawn the wrong kind of attention. She got two bags of ice, bumped the door shut with her hip, and turned toward the car.

Emery strode toward her. His expression was grim, but she couldn't tell if it was normal grim or if he'd heard something similar to what she had.

“We need to leave,” she said in a low voice.

He didn't reply, but the way he turned and swept the area, as if he was looking for something, told her all she needed to know. There was more danger than what she'd heard inside. They stashed their ice and food in the trunk, the tense silence drawing tight between them until the moment they dropped into the Tesla.

Emery didn't bother with a seat belt. He started the car and reversed, his motions controlled and precise.

“I think the Eleventh was here. There were people inside talking about a bunch of cars racing last night.” She buckled her seat belt and pulled the gun out of her waistband, tucking it under her leg for easy access.

“I heard. The guys were all talking about a bunch of drag racing that happened along this street. One of their friends got forced off the road.” He barely glanced at her as he accelerated out of the drive and onto the road. He checked all the mirrors, peering maybe a bit too intently into the glass.

It wasn't a coincidence then.

“They're what? Scouting? Searching?”

“One of them must have tailed us at a distance and lost us around here. Probably trying to flush us out, make a lot of noise, get us to come out of hiding.”

In other words, exactly what Emery and Tori were doing now. It wasn't what she'd have done. Her first move would have been to steal a car to blend in, get close and stay under the radar. If she had to guess, this was the Eleventh flexing their muscle.

“What did Smith tell you? Were you able to call him?”

“Yeah.”

She waited for a moment, but he didn't share more.

“And?” she prompted him.

“He's arranged for us to stay at a hotel.”

That wasn't bad news.

“What aren't you telling me, Emery?” She could sense his reticence.

“The cops are going to let Evers go in the morning. They appealed for bail and the judge granted it this time around.”

“What? Why? That doesn't make sense.”

There were miles of proof that Michael Evers was a violent, dangerous criminal with the means to flee outside extradition. And they were letting him go.

“He couldn't say a lot, but I think we're in agreement on this. Someone in the FBI is covering for Evers. Otherwise, why isn't he in federal custody? What do they want?” He slapped the steering wheel with his hand.

They'd spent hours speculating about the lack of movement on the Evers case. She couldn't remember who'd thrown out the idea of federal shielding, only that once the thought was voiced it had stayed in the back of her mind. From the way others had whispered about the possibility, it was likely it wasn't just her. And now they had something close to proof. In less than twenty-four hours they'd know for sure. Someone was playing a game with their lives, and that wasn't okay.

“I don't like this.” She peered ahead of them at the cars on the road.

“Neither do I.” Emery reached for her hand, wrapping his around hers for a moment. He pulled her hand toward his lips.

Her thoughts ceased as she watched him buzz her knuckles with a kiss. She felt the brief contact all the way to her core. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to crawl over into his lap, wrap her body around his and kiss him. She wouldn't, but it was a nice thought.

“We'll beat this.” He released her hand.

She wasn't certain. CJ, Kathy, Julian, and Emery—the FBI would pull them out. They'd be protected. The rest of their crew could easily become collateral damage in this mess.

“Look out,” Tori blurted.

She gripped the door and planted her other hand on the dash as a bright yellow car with a tall spoiler swerved in front of them, coming off the side of the road. Emery braked hard, shifting and cursing. The high-pitched rev of several engines heralded companions of the yellow car, whereas the Tesla's electric engine was nearly silent.

“Go, go, go,” Tori chanted.

Emery accelerated, but the yellow car veered with them, cutting the Tesla off. Someone honked, reminding her they weren't the only people on the road. Emery merged into the right lane and the yellow GT-R moved with them. They continued this dance, Emery jerking the car one way or the other, and the other driver mimicking his moves, forcing Emery to slow down in the process.

“Go faster.” Tori twisted to look out through the back window. There was a familiar silver Scion and what looked to be a red Lancer she might have seen a time or two.

“I'm trying. Hold on.”

She gripped the door and braced her feet on the floorboard.

Emery slowed the car even more, barely doing forty. Suddenly, he jerked the car into the left lane, except he pulled up halfway there. The GT-R didn't recover, sweeping almost all the way into the other lane. Emery punched the accelerator, shifting as the electric engine shuddered and the car shot forward, passing the yellow car. Ahead of them, an eighteen-wheeler and a pickup truck blocked the lanes.

“Emery. Emery!”

The right two tires bumped along the grooved side of the road. The shoulder was narrow. Not even a full car-width wide. He kept the left tires on the white line and blazed past the truck within inches of clipping off his mirror.

She twisted to watch their six. The GT-R didn't even attempt the maneuver, but she could see it bearing down, riding the truck's bumper.

“Hold on,” Emery warned.

She sat her butt back in the seat not a moment too soon. He swerved and zigzagged through cars, using both feet on the pedals. Her heart beat in her throat, but not from fear. Never in her life had she imagined Emery handling a car like this. It was pretty damn hot—except for the whole
running for their life
part of it.

They broke past the pack of cars and the road stretched out ahead of them, with only a few cars in the distance. That would change. This was a busy highway into Miami. How many other Eleventh drivers would they run into? Last they'd checked, the Eleventh crew was around nineteen drivers strong. Emery probably had a more accurate account, down to the make, model, and VIN numbers of the cars.

“What are we doing?” She leaned toward Emery, but her gaze snagged on the dash.

The charge bar was dipping below 25 percent. They couldn't go hundreds of miles on a 25 percent charge. What if they lost it on the road?

She needed to make sure that didn't happen.

“Twenty-five percent? Twenty-five fucking percent, Emery? Goddamn it.” Tori pulled the gun out from under her leg. The FBI hadn't hired her and Roni for their ability to handle cars. Their father might have been a first-class jackass and shit at being a dad, but he had ensured his girls knew how to protect themselves.

“Don't worry about it,” Emery said.

The Tesla needed a particular hookup to charge. The car hadn't been on a charge since—when? The morning he'd taken her to IHOP?

“I'm going to worry about it.” She glanced behind them. The GT-R was coming at them fast. “Drive straight. Don't swerve. Let him catch us.”

She popped her seat belt and rolled the window down.

“Tori—what are—? Don't.” He seemed to realize what she was doing about halfway through the sentence.

Didn't matter.

She was already hanging out of the passenger-side window, the wind whisking the hat off her head. Tendrils of her hair whipped her face, lashing her cheeks. She stared down the sights and exhaled, squeezing the trigger, visualizing the path of her bullet. The blast of the shot was lost almost immediately. Emery was driving too fast.

It was stupid.

It was reckless.

But hell, they were desperate.

Emery grabbed the waistband of her jeans and pulled her back inside. She sat down hard and flipped the safety back on. She glanced behind them at the now-smoking GT-R. A radiator shot if she wasn't mistaken.

“Are you crazy? You could have shot a civilian,” Emery yelled.

It was a risk. One she felt guilty about, but not enough to wish she hadn't done it.

“I hit the car, nothing else.”

“But you could have shot someone else.”

She didn't deny it.

“Drive faster and I won't have to do it again.” Because she would. If Emery was in danger she'd protect him just like he'd protected her. It was a new feeling. Sure, the crew always had her back, but she didn't think Gabriel or John would go to the lengths Emery had for her. She also wasn't madly in love with the two mechanics, and now that she knew Emery liked her back—it was a whole new obsession.

Chapter Twelve

The swanky South Beach hotel was a definite upgrade from the grimy shack in the middle of nowhere. Emery squinted into the light pouring in from the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that gave an amazing view of the beach.

“Remind me to always pretend to be newlyweds. This suite is sick.” Tori squeezed past him, the little rolling bag thumping over the grooves in the tile as she took a quick turn around the room.

“I've got some IDs for you guys.” Matt Smith closed the suite door and flipped the lock behind Emery.

“Thanks.” He wouldn't bother to tell the detective he wasn't going to use any IDs he hadn't made himself.

Emery strode around the room, surveying it for weaknesses. He poked his head out onto the balcony. There was a partition wall between them and the rooms next door. It would take a daredevil to sneak over this high up, but he wouldn't put it out of the realm of possibility. Truth was, none of it would be good enough for him. He didn't like being in a hotel. There was no way to control the comings and goings of other people. There were too many access points, not enough security required for people to pass between floors. But he could hack into the hotel security and keep an eye on things.

“I got you a laptop. It's nothing fancy. I had to take what wouldn't be missed. Also, burner phones, like you asked for.” Matt placed the items on the four-seater dining table in the far left corner of the room opposite the galley kitchen.

“Why are the cops letting Evers go?” Tori asked. Since meeting up in the hotel garage, they hadn't said much to each other. Matt had arrived with suitcases to help them appear a bit more like tourist newlyweds, and that was it.

“His lawyers argued he wasn't a flight risk. That he was forced to shoot those guys out of self-defense. There's got to be more, because those same arguments didn't work last time.” Matt placed his hands on his hips and scowled at the carpet. “Hell, they just released a woman on bail who shot and killed a cop, and all they did to her was slap an ankle monitor on her and take away her passport. I imagine they'll do the same to Evers.”

Michael Evers made enemies wherever he went. Over a year before, the Miami-Dade PD had been building a case against Evers. Except they hadn't counted on someone else taking the fall for Evers when they sprung the trap. The resulting shit storm had landed mostly on Matt's mentor, sending the decorated detective out to pasture in a small sheriff's office.

“That's bullshit. Did they even admit Aiden and Julian's testimony?” she asked.

“No. I think the Feds pulled it,” Matt replied.

“Shit.”

That was news to Emery. Who would pull evidence on a criminal they'd invested so much money and man-hours into arresting, and why? There had to be something they weren't seeing. A bigger picture.

Tori walked the room, seemingly admiring the small touches. Emery doubted even Matt realized what she was doing. She trailed her fingers along the underside of a table, or felt around for the switch on a lamp. All good places to hide a bug.

The Russians wouldn't bother with a bug. It wasn't information they were after. They'd just walk in and shoot them all. Emery didn't think they were that far ahead of the hit team. They'd spent an uneventful night right under the Eleventh's nose, which was incredibly good luck to have remained hidden so well. He'd been a lot more careful this time around when he drove to the hotel.

“What are you going to do now?” Matt turned toward him. He'd taken off the badge that was normally clipped to his belt, but he still wore the mantle of cop.

“Eat something. Shower. Probably catch a little sleep.” Emery shrugged.

Matt's lips compressed into a tight line.

“What?” Emery asked.

“I don't know if you know this already but . . .”

“But what?” Tori prompted.

“Gabriel is in the hospital. He said he was racing and someone forced him off the road. He spun out, tapped a concrete barricade and crunched his car. Pretty sure it was the Eleventh.”

Tori gasped.

For a second, Emery didn't breathe. He scrubbed his hand over his mouth.

“How do you know it was the Eleventh?” Emery asked.

“Who was hurt?” Tori demanded over him.

Matt held up his hands. “Part of it was caught on a security camera. No plates, but I recognize the car. Gabriel got knocked around a bit, fractured rib and some bruising. They want to hold him for observation one more night. He knocked his head pretty hard. I just thought you would either know or want to know.” Tori's gaze landed on Emery. He could feel the weight of it. His fingers itched to reach out and touch her. He could almost count the minutes since he'd last kissed her. Could still remember the way it felt when she brushed against him in the elevator.

“We have cut communication with our team for safety,” Emery said.

“Okay.” Matt's frown clearly showed disapproval, but whatever. That wasn't Matt's call. “What can I do to help?”

Emery drew a deep breath. Help would be nice, but they also didn't want to end up making Matt collateral damage. The cop already had a target on his back for being the arresting officer on scene when Evers was taken into custody.

“Not a lot. Focus on the Eleventh. Nothing official, really, just encourage the patrol officers to pull over any and all street rides. Other than that, stay away from us. You've done more than enough right now. It's probably safer if you don't get involved more than you are.”

Matt glanced at Tori. “And your sister?”

Tori's gaze narrowed. In the last three months, Matt had pulled Roni over four times. She was the only person on their crew the detective had made contact with, and Emery doubted it was for business reasons. Emery had kept tabs of the interactions, but that was it. Roni could take care of herself.

“She's safe,” Tori replied.

Matt stared at her a moment, as if he could will more information out of her, but he was out of luck. Tori wasn't about to tell him shit.

“Guess I'll leave you two to it then. Need anything, just holler.” He nodded and glanced at the door. He paused, but when neither Tori nor Emery told him to stay, he made his exit.

Tori followed him, flipping the locks and sliding the chain into place after him. She put her back against the door and stared at Emery. He could hear her unspoken question.
What do we do?

He didn't know what they should do at this point. His best-laid plans had been dashed to pieces.

Tomorrow Roni would be back in Miami and in the crosshairs of the hit team. The Eleventh Street gang was flexing their muscle. And very soon their crew would have to worry about Evers again. Fracturing their team with a few people scattered around was a bad idea. He didn't like it, but it was the truth.

“We need to call CJ and get a status report,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I'll use one of the burners. Keep it short.” He nodded at the bag of things Matt had left for them.

Tori grabbed one of the packaged phones and they met by wordless agreement at the bar stools in front of the galley kitchen. He pulled out a pocket knife and sliced the plastic. The phone was simple. No frills. He plugged it in and the screen lit up, then he dialed the number for the Classic Rides landline. He could call CJ's cell, but it would be easier to trace.

Emery pressed the phone to his ear and looked at Tori. She reached over and placed her hand on his knee. The line rang several times with no answer. What if they'd closed the shop due to damages?

“Hello?” The gruff voice was familiar.

“CJ. It's Emery.”

Silence.

“Is Gabriel okay?” Emery asked.

“He'll be fine. What the hell were you thinking disappearing like that? I'm assuming Tori is with you.” A door closed. It made sense. CJ must have been out front in the shop area.

“I was thinking I needed to protect my team.”

“Fuck it. I didn't know it was Matvei. The guy's worse than a damn urban legend. If you'd have told me that I would have made a different call.”

“Because that matters?”

“Hell yes, it does. We could have quietly paid off any other hit man, maybe gotten them arrested, but Matvei lives for this shit. Look, we need to pool our resources. Fast. Aiden and the others are heading back this way tonight. Canales wasn't at the races. Together, we can make a plan. The Russians and Cubans have been at it lately over all kinds of things up north. We do not need to be caught up between them if that fight comes to Miami.”

CJ hadn't known the details, at least not all of it. Emery didn't agree with CJ's supposed plan, but it was in the past. He wasn't ready to outright trust the agent, but at least Emery had just confirmed they were all on the same side. Whoever was jerking them around, it wasn't the people they'd come to trust.

“What about Evers? Do you know?” Emery asked.

“Know what?”

“He's being released.”

“Yeah. I heard.”

Tori's jaw dropped. Clearly the burner phone also functioned as a loudspeaker.

“You knew?” What else had CJ kept from them?

“Only because I was paying the judge's assistant to keep me up-to-date.”

“What?”

“Someone is keeping us in the dark. All of us. Me. You. The whole crew. It's like we're bait. We need to address this.”

“Past time.”

“Where are you? We've got to be business as usual here, but tonight me, you, Kathy, and Tori—if she's still with you—should put our heads together.”

“Maybe.” Emery wasn't about to agree to making Tori a target again, and letting anyone know where she was meant more opportunities for just that kind of thing to happen.

“She probably thinks we don't have her back. That's why I didn't want to tell her. I wanted to handle it before she ever knew it was an issue. This isn't the way I thought this would go down.”

“I told you.”

“That there was a hit team? Yeah. I assumed it was related to Evers. You never told me everything. Matvei wouldn't work for Evers, not in a million years. Goddamn it, Emery. You're our tech. You've got fingers in every pie and feelers out everywhere. I've got to keep tabs on all of you. I can't double up and do your job when you already do it so well.”

“Then why not tell me what you knew?”

“Again, I thought I'd handle it before it was an issue, but we've been chasing shadows lately. I made a bad call. I would never put Tori or Roni in this kind of danger.” Honesty rang in CJ's voice. Damn it, Emery wanted to trust him. CJ had never given them reason to question him like this before. He might not be the friendliest guy to work with, but he was a good agent.

“I'll think about it.” Emery hung up the phone and Tori blew out a breath.

“Well?”

“You heard all of that?”

“Yeah, but what do you think?” She crossed her arms over her chest, lines creasing her brow.

“My gut says he's telling the truth, but I'm not willing to bet your safety on a hunch.” She was too important for that kind of gambling. Letting more people know where she was, hell, even meeting up somewhere with the others, might be too dangerous.

She studied him for a moment. Her features softened, and damn it, he wanted to kiss her. Maybe whisking her away and taking on new aliases was a good idea. If the twins separated, they'd be less obvious. But Emery seriously doubted Tori would give up her sister. They were far too close.

“We can't do this alone.” She uncrossed her arms and sighed. “There're too many things up in the air. We need backup. Besides, Roni's still with the crew and they won't hang us out to dry. Aiden, Julian, and Roni won't let them”

He took her hand in his and squeezed. Yesterday she'd wanted to run away from all of them. Today, she was willing to once more trust the very people she'd feared had betrayed her.

“You sure you want to do this?”

“No. I want to hide.” She stared at his chest.

“There's nothing wrong in that.”

“Maybe not, but I can't do that.”

He remained quiet, letting her parse through her thoughts, sorting her options. He'd grown accustomed to the way she could talk almost all the time, but he also knew her quiet moments. The way she'd study a car, puzzling out the options, turning them this way and that until the pieces fit. She had a brilliant way of finding solutions under most circumstances.

“This hit team scares me.” She chewed her lip for a moment. “Have we been able to find out why they were sent?”

“I only heard it was about a grudge.”

She let go of his hand, paced to the overstuffed leather sofa, and dropped down, staring at the windows.

“They want something my sister and I don't have.”

“What is that?” Emery followed her, walking softly and sitting on the coffee table, his every nerve on alert. If it was a grudge, it was very likely attached to her and her sister's old lives and maybe even her father. She'd never talked about those before, and didn't know he knew.

Tori turned her head toward him, her gaze unreadable.

“You already know,” she said.

“I do?” Guilt gnawed at him. He had a good feeling he did.

“I'm guessing you do. You know everything about all of us.”

“Not everything.” But he knew a lot. Things the others would prefer no one knew. But it was his job to know everything. To keep tabs, to make sure the crew stayed on task and no one went off the rails. Well, no one except Julian. He'd jumped the tracks long ago and was someone else's problem. So long as he played the game close to the rules in Miami, Emery didn't have to mention it.