Wed in Wyoming. Allison Leigh

to do so,” she pointed out the obvious.

      “Details. You’re always getting hung up on details.” He reached up and plucked a candle out of one of the sconces, then pulled open the door beside him and nudged her through. “I wanna move fast, but we’ve gotta stay quiet. Think you can manage that?”

      Her lips parted. “Yes, I can be quiet,” she assured, a little more loudly than she ought.

      He raised his eyebrows and she pressed her lips together, miming the turning of a key next to them.

      His lips quirked. “Good girl.”

      The spurt of nervousness she’d felt before was nothing compared to the way she felt now as Brody drew her through the doorway. He stopped long enough to hold the door as it closed without a sound.

      After tramping down a warren of alarmingly narrow halls, the tile floor gave way to hard-packed dirt.

      She swallowed again, feeling like they were heading down into the bowels of the mountain. “Did you sleep at all? How long did it take you to discover this rat maze? Do you even know where we’re going?”

      He paused again, letting her catch up and the candle flame stopped the wild dance of light it cast on the walls. “Yeah, I slept enough. And yeah, I know where we’re going. Don’t you trust me? We’re going to get the kids and get the hell outta Dodge while the going’s good.”

      “But what about your big first-things-first speech?”

      “You slept some, didn’t you?” His voice was light. “And ate.”

      She pressed her lips together, determined not to argue. “Your sudden rush just surprised me,” she finally managed stiffly.

      “Well, along with their various vehicles,” he said in such a reasonable tone that she felt like smacking him, “the fine sisters here have a satellite phone system. Hardly the kind of thing one would expect, but hey. Maybe one of the local politicians figures he’s buying his way into heaven or something. Anyway, I checked with my handler. The Stanleys have been moved again. And despite the weather, the Mother Superior has found a guide to get her back to her flock. She’s supposed to be here shortly after sunup.”

      “A guide,” Angeline echoed. Her irritation dissolved. “What kind of guide?”

      “The kind who won’t let a washed-out road get in his way.”

      “You don’t think it’s that Rico person who searched Sophia and Hewitt’s place?”

      His gaze didn’t waver.

      Dismay congealed inside her stomach. “This is a nightmare.”

      “Nah. Could be worse. Way worse,” he assured.

      She looked over her shoulder in the direction from which they’d come. What was worse? Going forward or going back? Either way, she really, really wanted to get out of this narrow, closed-in tunnel. She looked back at him only to encounter the look he was giving her—sharp eyed despite the gloom. “What?”

      “You tell me. What’s bothering you?”

      Aside from the entire situation? She moistened her lips. “I, um, I just don’t much care for tunnels.”

      He held the candle above his head, looking up. Then he moved the candle to one side. And the other.

      She knew what he was looking at. The ceiling overhead was stucco. The walls on either side of them were stuccoed, as well. And though the floor was dirt, it wasn’t as if it were the kind of dirt that had been on the road where the Jeep had gotten stuck. Her boots had encountered no ruts. It seemed perfectly smooth, perfectly compacted.

      Not exactly a tunnel.

      She knew that’s what Brody was thinking.

      But “We’re almost there,” was all he said. “Think you can stand it for another couple minutes?”

      Pride lifted her chin if nothing else would. This was part of St. Agnes, not a culvert running beneath the city of Atlanta. “Of course.”

      He didn’t smile. Just gave a single nod and turned forward again.

      His simple acceptance of her assurance went considerably further than if he’d taken her hand and drawn her along with him like some frightened child. She focused on watching him, rather than the confining space, as they continued their brisk pace.

      As he’d promised, it was only a few minutes—if that—before she followed Brody around another corner, up several iron stairs and out into the dark, wet air. A vine-twined trellis overhead kept the drizzling rain from hitting them, though Angeline shivered as the air penetrated her clothes.

      Thunder was a steady roll, punctuated by the brilliant flicker of lightning.

      She got a quick impression of hedges and rows of plants. The convent’s garden? Surely there would have been an easier route to take.