“Good point.” One of the advantages of his lack of emotion was that the adrenaline flooding his system focused him. Keeping calm and rational was the only way they’d get out of this. He drove up the on-ramp to the interstate just as bullets grazed the back of the bug. If one hit a tire at this speed, the car would roll. “Hold on.” He swerved in and out of traffic, ignoring the blaring horns. An elderly lady in a massive Buick missing a headlight flipped him the bird and he moved onto the shoulder, increasing speed. The truck followed.

At the last second, he veered across multiple lanes of traffic and shot down an off-ramp, barreling through a red light and swerving onto a busy street.

He skidded, hit the brakes, turned the car, and accelerated again.

Dana sat fully up, her blond hair flying over the back of the seat. “I should’ve brought a gun,” she muttered.

“Why?” He turned the wheel and drove the car to the rear of a fast-food joint, whipping around to face the main street. The VW was partially hidden behind the building and foliage as well as the darkness of night.

“To shoot,” she muttered.

He kept his hands light on the wheel. “You can’t get into a shootout on a busy street. This isn’t the movies.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you have to be so literal all the time?”

He mulled the question over. “Yeah. I think so.” Several minutes passed without any sighting of the black truck. He tugged his phone from his back pocket, wincing as he caught his fingers in the tight leather of the pants. Hitting speed dial, he waited until Angus Force, his boss, picked up.

“What?” Force snarled.

Great. He was in another mood. “Have someone drop off my truck at . . .” Wolfe flipped open the jockey box to pull out the rental agreement and read quickly. “Squishy’s Car Rental on Third Street.” He clicked off before Force could ask questions, turning to face Dana. “We’ll get rid of the car, fetch your things, and then you can come home with me.”

She faltered. “I’m not going home with you.”

“Sure, you are.” Sometimes things were so clear to him, he truly couldn’t understand how anybody else could be confused. “Either those guys were shooting at you—”

“Or maybe you,” she countered, her fragile chin lifting.

He nodded. “Or maybe me. In which case, they surely got the plates of this thing and will investigate the hot blonde in the passenger seat. Even though it’s dark, their headlights were bright enough to get the license plate and your hair color. The guys after me wouldn’t hesitate to go through you to get to me.”

She rubbed her nose. “What guys are after you? I mean, besides the guys in the black truck, who could be after me and not you.”