McDougal is a savvy spender. He only hires the best.

Trust your team to do their job. I'm fairly confident that you're going to pay through the nose for their help, so use it. I need you alive."

"Got it." While the order was given bluntly, Connor understood the friendship behind the words and took comfort in it. He was in a strange world, but he wasn't as alone as he'd first felt.

Disconnecting the line, he climbed out of the car and looked over the roof at Stacey as she did the same. His shoulders were well above the roofline.

She was height-challenged, lifting to her tiptoes to see him more comfortably.

"Here's how we are going to handle this," he began. "We're just going to have a look around.

Check out the car and the front desk. See if they're here or if they switched transportation and bailed."

She nodded grimly.

"Don't try to be a hero," he said. "I'm good, sweetheart, believe me. But with multiple opponents and a hostage at stake, I'm not in a position to fight them all and keep on eye on you.

If they're here, you need to stay out of harm's way so I can concentrate on getting Justin back, not saving your ass."

He saw how much that killed her. The thought that her son could be close and she might have to restrain herself. Still, she said, "I understand."

"Do you trust me?" He made no effort to hide the emotions behind the question. Right now, his lack of detachment was both his greatest strength and his biggest liability.

Stacey's lips compressed until they were white, then tears glistened in her eyes.

Connor slammed his palm down on the roof so hard he startled her, making her gasp and jump.

"Damn it! Stop thinking about all the losers in your past and think about me! Do you trust me?"

"We just fucking met!" she hissed back at him.

"Don't act like we've known each other forever."

"I care about you, Stacey. It doesn't matter how long we've known each other or not. It comes from here," he hit his chest, "and it's important to me. I think if you stopped trying to convince yourself that all men are the same, you'd realize that time doesn't matter."

"Easy for you to say, Mr. My-life-is-endless."

"Yeah, and your life isn't and you're wasting it."

Connor held up a hand to cut her off. "I've lived centuries, Stacey. I've known a lot of women. I've spent years with some. I've done things with them that I haven't had time yet to do with you, but I already know this is different."

Shaking his head, he backed up and opened the rear driver's side door. "Forget it. I don't know why I asked."

"I didn't say I don't trust you." She came around the back of the car.

"You didn't say you did either."

He motioned her closer and then held up a shoulder holster for her to maneuver into. "You're going to wear this to hold the gun. If you have to, defend yourself." He tightened the straps until it was snugly secured, then he turned her to face him. "But I want you to run first. Shoot only if you have no other choice. Got it?"

"Yes."

Connor moved to turn away and she caught his arm. "I don't think you're like any other guy I've ever known." Her thumb stroked over his skin restlessly, an innocent absentminded caress.

"Damn fucking right I'm not," he growled, kissing her hard and swift before she could pull away.

"I'm the guy who's going to wear you down. The guy who's going to make a nuisance of himself every time he's in town. The guy who's going to seduce you every chance he gets, even when you say no… Shit, especially when you say no."

Stacey gazed up at him with wide eyes and worried her lower lip.

"I can't promise to wear a suit and come home for dinner every night." He pushed her away and reached into the backseat for his scabbard, which he slung over his back. "But I can promise to care about you. And I'm stubborn, so get used to me."

Grabbing a windbreaker, he shoved it at her.

"That'll help to hide the guns." Then he looked down at himself and groaned. "Okay. We look like hoodlums. Fuck."

"This is where I come in handy." Stacey reached into her pockets and pulled out a pair of colorful sparkling rubber bands. Within minutes she had two childish pigtails sticking out the top of her head and garish red lipstick on her mouth. She used the reflection of the car window to secure a leather collar to her neck, then faced him. "Ta da!"

Connor's brows rose. "Yikes."

She shrugged. "I figured these pants were going to take some creativity to pull off, so I came prepared to look weird enough to wear them.

There's nothing I can do about your sword though or the goon squad." Stacey gestured to the small army getting ready just a few feet away. "We'll just have to play it like we're looking for a costume party, if someone asks."

"Right… well… I like the collar."

Stacey shivered under the intense appreciation she saw in Connor's gaze. Even pissed off, frustrated, and under a great deal of stress he still tried to compliment her. Regardless of the situation between them, she loved him for that and for caring enough about her to go through all of this. Sure, his "people" had a vested in interest in what was going on. But he was fighting for Justin more than he was fighting over the trinity.

She knew that for a fact.

"Are we ready?" she asked, the words husky with gratitude.

"As we'll ever be." He shut the door and gripped her by the elbow. Connor looked at the men waiting nearby and said, "Four of you check the perimeter. The rest come with me."

As he led her away there was strength and command in his touch, and Stacey appreciated both as they crossed the street and entered the parking lot of the motel. The pavement was cracked and worn, the cars in the spaces bearing more-than-average wear and tear. Many of the lights were either out or flickering with an annoying high-volume humming that grated on Stacey's already raw nerves. Litter spoiled on the ground and in the near distance, a dog howled plaintively, an apt accompaniment to such squalor.

They had a dozen men with them total. Of the eight who stayed close, four branched off at Connor's gestured command and began weaving through the parked cars.

"You know," Stacey began. "I just can't see Rachel stopping for the night in a place like this. Not when there are tons of other lodgings here in town and Mojave is so close."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod. "I agree. They probably ditched the car, but even that's odd. Talk about sticking out like a sore thumb. Look at it. You can't miss it."

The cloud-filtered moonlight glimmered off the black paint, which made finding the sedan easy, despite its location in an unlit corner of the lot.

They approached it slowly, cautiously. Connor took the lead; she followed a few steps behind with the others.

He paused several feet away and gestured to the nearby thick cement base that supported one of the lamps. "Wait over there and help look out."

"What am I looking out for?" she asked.

"Anyone coming by." His gaze was hard and fierce as he looked at one of the men in a nonverbal communication that was beyond her. "I need a closer look at that car and I don't want to be disturbed. Check your sides often and listen for any suspicious noises."

She was pretty sure he was just trying to get her out of his hair, but she'd promised to listen and she would.

Without another word, Stacey did as he asked, following the guy assigned to her to the requested position. Her gaze roamed the lot in a steady back-and-forth sweep. The lamp she stood under was dead center at the end, which afforded her an open view of the property. It also offered a hideous smell. It was her guess that more than a few animals—and perhaps even humans—had used the distant location as a urinal.

Her stomach roiled with a mixture of disgust and fear. Connor and the others worked almost silently, doing whatever the hell it was that they were doing to the car. The guy next to her said nothing and bore no expression at all on his face or in his eyes.

The temperature was chilly, but Stacey suspected it was her own fear that made her shiver so violently. The neon vacancy sign blinked off and on, coaxing her to stare briefly at the glass door to the front desk. That was as dirty as the rest of the place. Spattered with something foul and so grimy it obviously hadn't been washed in years.

Connor returned to her with such stealth Stacey wouldn't have been aware of him if she hadn't been keeping vigil. She raised her brows in query.

"Let's go to the office," he said with alarming alacrity, snatching her elbow and dragging her away.

"Why?"

"Because I said."

There was something underlying his tone that made her look back over her shoulder. Two of the men remained with the vehicle in defensive positions. She couldn't see what they'd done to the sedan, if anything.

Then a flash of glimmered moonlight caught her eye. She slowed.

Something was dripping from the trunk onto the asphalt, forming an ever-growing puddle. From the rate of seepage, the substance was thicker than water…

"Oh my god!" She stumbled and Connor kept her upright, his pace unchanged. "What's in the trunk?"

"Our friend with the teeth."

Her heart dropped into her stomach and she swallowed hard. "You thought Justin might be in there, didn't you? That's why you made me move away."

"It was a possibility."

His jaw was locked, his eyes forward, his step purposeful.

"You think he's dead, don't you?" Her voice rose and she fought his grip. "What did you see in there? Tell me!"

Connor halted and yanked her into him. "Keep your voice down, damn it!"

He gestured the other men onward with a quick jerk of his chin. When they were alone, he said,

"There's nothing in there but a head and a body, neither of which belong to your son."