Reluctantly, I took his hand. He pulled me to my feet. They throbbed uncomfortably beneath me, and when we took a few steps toward the exit, I had the strangest sensation that my limbs were separate from the rest of my body. They didn’t seem to be going where I thought they should, and I felt dissociated from them. I wondered if it was an aftereffect of the drug or if it was because of the poor circulation to my feet for the past however many hours.

As we approached the window, a flicker of movement outside caught my attention. I glanced at Tyler, but he didn’t seem to have noticed. I looked again, squinting to make out the details. The motion had stopped, but I could swear there were darker patches among the tussock that hadn’t been there earlier. Perhaps it was a trick of the fading light, but I didn’t think so.

My heartbeat picked up, and I felt as though the organ might race right out of my chest. I stared at one of the dark patches, noticing it had a faintly human shape. Had the police finally tracked me down? Were Tyler and I walking into an ambush? More importantly, were they as trigger happy as he was, or would they try to separate us before they started shooting?

A bead of sweat trickled down my spine. I hoped they wouldn’t shoot immediately, but if they didn’t, it would give Tyler the chance to use me as a shield, and then who knew what would happen? I couldn’t risk it. I shivered, and Tyler noticed. He paused, shrugging out of his sweater and offering it to me.

“No, thanks,” I said, aware that if someone was out there, the sweater might cause them to mistake me for him.

“Put it on.” The way the gun twitched in his clasp made it clear I shouldn’t argue. I did as he said. Once, I might have found it romantic if a man offered me his jacket, but now, I wished I didn’t have to touch something that had been against his skin.

The sweater on, we continued to the door. I held my breath as he opened it, trying to make myself small in case bullets started flying.

None came.

I sought out one of the dark patches from before to see if I’d been mistaken, but I was almost certain it was a person. Tyler guided me to the edge of the small wooden porch where the four-wheeler motorcycle waited.

“I’ll drive. You get on behind and hold my waist,” he said. “If you run, I’ll shoot.”

“Okay.” I felt a burst of hope mingled with fear. This was it. My moment.