Chapter 12

"You think it means that Dean's involved? I'm not buying it. Not yet."

"Be sensible. Someone had to know where to send that guy after you."

Gus gripped the cell even harder, forcing some semblance of calm. He glanced over to Anya, curled up on the bed in the cheap-ass motel room, hugging her knees, eyes wide, face as pale as the sheets on the bed. For her sake he had to keep it together. She was already frightened enough. He'd promised to keep her safe and damn it, that's what he was going to do.

"You'd better send a cleanup crew to the house," he said now.

"Already taken care of," Jimmy told him. "I'm not saying a word about it to anyone here, either. Not until we know for sure what's going on."

"Branson obviously has a much larger organization than we figured, and has a lot of people in his pocket."

Jimmy snorted. "No shit. There's a lot of money there. Gus. Money changes people. Makes them greedy. Makes them forget what they should and shouldn't be doing."

"You got that right."

"Where are you calling from?" Jimmy asked. "I almost didn't answer the phone because I didn't recognize the number?"

"Disposable phone," Gus told him. "And no offense, but I don't think right now I want to tell anyone where we are. Not even you. Safer that way for you as well as for us."

"Where do you plan to go? You can't just wander from place to place. I still think you should let me stash Anya someplace so you can be free to do what you need to."

"I'll figure it out. Someplace where we're secure. Where I can work my contacts and figure out what the fuck is going on. But like I said, she stays with me."

"Your funeral." Jimmy paused. "Well, the escape is all over the news. The director is climbing all over Barton about it. If he's Branson's contact, I hope he's getting enough money to retire to some tropical island."

Gus disconnected the call, put the phone on the bedside table and stretched out beside Anya. When he touched her skin it was ice cold. Pulling her into his arms, he rubbed her back and arms, trying to infuse warmth into her.

"You did good, darlin'," he praised her. And indeed she had.

When he woke her and explained the situation, she hadn't argued or fallen apart, despite the fact that he could see how freaked she was. He'd figured they had a few minutes yet. When no one came in after the guy he cold cocked he'd had to assume no one else was out there. But they would be when their man failed to report in.

They'd dressed and thrown their few belongings into a duffel bag Gus found in the closet. Before climbing into the car Gus had checked everywhere, especially underneath, either for an explosive device or a GPS tracker, but the car, thankfully, was clean. He'd had to open the garage door manually since the power was still cut and he didn't want to alert anyone too soon by restoring it. Anya had huddled into herself on the seat, a silent wraith while he drove away from the safe house and onto the Interstate. He'd been very careful to watch for a tail. One stop to buy disposable cells at an all-night store before putting heading to Austin, a city where they could get lost until he could figure out what to do.

"I'm scared, Gus." Her voice was small, muffled against his shoulder.

"I know, I know. And with good reason. But we're going to get out of this."

"What happened?"

It was the first question she'd asked him since he'd woken her. The fact that she'd just gone along with him, following his directions, was a good indication of the level of trust she placed in him. He didn't plan to make light of it. But she did deserve some answers. He shifted a little on the bed and rolled her so she was on top of him, his arms tight around her.

"We've had a little glitch," he began.

"I'd say it's more than little if we had to sneak out in the middle of the night," she pointed out.

"Yeah, more than a little." He did his best to keep his voice level. No sense in panicking Anya more than she already was. "Jimmy called before we went to bed to tell me he believes our FBI office has been compromised."

"Compromised?" She raised her head to look into his eyes. "Exactly what does that mean?"

No sense sugarcoating it. "It means someone in our office is in bed with Virgil Branson and can feed him your location. But that's not all."

"Is that why we had to leave the way we did?" And what about the other agent?"

He could feel the erratic beat of her heart against his chest and tightened his arms even more.

"I don't know what woke me up tonight but I'm glad something did. Anya, John's dead, and someone tried to get into the house. I suspect they had orders to kill both of us."

"Kill?"

Now she was shaking so badly he was afraid she'd break apart. He kissed her forehead and her cheeks, hoping to take the edge off.

"I got him while he was still off balance, left him tied up and called Jimmy to pick him up. But I have to be honest. We're pretty much on our own here. At least until Virgil's caught."

"B-But even then we won't be safe," she protested. "Not unless we find out who's doing his dirty work."

"Which we will," He assured her. "I'm not totally without resources."

Anya curled up into a ball on top of him. "But where can we go?

He kissed her gently. "Don't worry. I have a place in mind. Meanwhile we're safe enough where we are for a little while. We should get some sleep. We're going to need it." He lifted her from his body. "Come on. Let's get our clothes off and crawl under the covers.