“He’s with you now?” Dean says. There’s an edge to his tone.

“Not right next to me. But yes, he’s at the hotel.” I say “hotel” instead of “motel” to try to make it sound less sordid.

“Are you staying in the same room?”

“We’re not . . . we didn’t sleep here last night. We just used the shower. Not at the same time,” I hasten to clarify.

“So you’re sharing showers and hotel rooms with him now,” Dean says. His jealousy is obvious. And it’s obvious he’s trying to pick a fight.

“He’s a bodyguard,” I say, not even trying to hide my annoyance. “Quit trying to make it sound like something it’s not.”

But even as I’m saying the words, I’m remembering that kiss in the gym. I tried to shove it down to the very bottom of my brain. Tried not to think about it again. It was just a moment of insanity on Raylan’s part—we were both hopped up from the race. Annoyed at each other for our own stupid reasons. It was impulsive and irrational. It didn’t mean anything.

Still, the memory steals the ring of truth from my statement. It makes me sound petulant instead of certain. It leaves a hint of doubt for Dean to hear.

“I’m not okay with this,” he says. “I’m not okay with any of this. Somebody’s stalking you and trying to kill you and I’m just supposed to act like that’s normal? You’ve got some bodyguard with you twenty-four-seven, like you’re the president? This is fucking weird, Riona.”

“I’m so sorry that someone trying to KILL ME is an inconvenience for you,” I say acidly.

“This is fucking crazy! You’re with this guy and—”

All of a sudden, I feel very tired. It’s been a long night, and a strange morning, after one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. Dean’s not going to understand that. He was never going to understand any of this.

I cut him off mid-rant. “You’re right, Dean.”

“I . . . what?” That’s the last thing he expected me to say in the middle of an argument.

“You’re right,” I repeat. “You shouldn’t have to deal with any of this. Let’s take a break, and maybe when I’m not in the middle of running for my life, we can pick things back up again.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line. Then Dean says, “You’re breaking up with me?”

“Yes,” I say flatly. “I think so.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” Dean says.

I hear a click and then dead air.

He hung up the phone.

I set down the receiver, my heart thudding.

I kind of said it on impulse. But I don’t think I regret it. When I examine what I feel, it’s a lot closer to relief, actually. I’ve got too much to deal with without having to baby Dean’s feelings, too. This is for the best.

I leave the motel room, joining Raylan in the car.

“So?” he says, putting the Escalade into drive.