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and all Gage had to do was ensure their trip didn’t involve a tree trunk. “You almost sound like you know what you’re talking about,” she said. “Have you tried this before?”
    He didn’t say anything.
    Riley narrowed her eyes, now sure he was keeping something from her. The scars, the kind of truck upon which he swore he’d never waste good money, the packaging of gunfire and bullet wounds into something akin to “shit happens”…by themselves none of the facts meant much, but the compilation told a story.
    Only he wasn’t talking.
    The land flattened somewhat beneath the tires, and Riley released a breath. She brushed some of the broken glass off the seat with an envelope she found on the floor console, knowing the safety glass wouldn’t cut her but not particularly willing to sit on it, either. She waited until her view of the trees thickened on the other side of the small hill before edging into the seat, dismayed with the tension in her legs. Fortunately, she had plenty of room to stretch.
    Gage straightened, rolling one shoulder then the other, his jaw tightening when he moved the injured side. He glanced in the rearview mirror, hit a switch, and the yellow glow of parking lights paved their way downhill. He steered onto the path and hit the gas, pulling them out of the silent idle and picking up speed.
    “Good thing it’s warm tonight,” she ventured, fanning herself with the envelope she still held. She gave him a sideways look. “Window stuck in the down position and all.” The attempt at small talk seemed misplaced but, she reasoned, even fugitives had to talk about something.
    Fugitives? The day had most certainly gone awry.
    “Glad to know you still have a sense of humor.” He spared another glance her direction, eyes dancing and warming her to the core. Then his gaze drifted lower, evoking tawdry tingles from unpracticed nerves. The lazy tour came to a screeching halt, however, in the proximity of her lap.
    “What?” She looked down and noticed the envelope in her hand.
    And her handwriting on the front.
    She stared at the three-year-old love note—the first she’d ever given him—in shock. “You still have this? With you?”
    “Yeah.” He stared through the windshield. “I agreed to stay away from you, Riley, but I never promised to forget about us. I never said I’d stop loving you.”
    Stunned, she leaned over to settle the note in its spot on the console, right next to his revolver. “I—”
    “Don’t. I know I shouldn’t have gone anywhere near you—and damned if I’m not good for my word—but as soon as I saw that bullet sticking out of the back wall of my house, I knew that was your gun. I didn’t stop to think about it. I just knew I had to get to you.”
    “To kill me?” she asked, remembering the direction of his aim.
    “Not once I realized you didn’t do it.”
    Small comfort.
    The dirt path they traveled met pavement. Gage hit the brakes and looked in both dark directions. After a long moment, he turned on the headlights and pulled onto the road, heading west.
    She stared down the long, empty road ahead. “Now what?”
    “First we’re going to get rid of this truck. I don’t know if anyone is looking for it or not, but as long as there’s a chance we can’t take it. Besides, it’s hard to blend in without a back window. Then”—he drummed his fingers on the wheel, casting a hollow look in her direction—“we’re going to Tehcotah.”
    Riley’s heart skidded to a stop. There was only one reason they’d go to Tehcotah, and Gage was the absolute last person who ought to be there.
    And he knew it.
    He shifted to give her a pointed look. “It’s about time we paid my buddy Colt a visit, don’t you think?”
    Gage didn’t wait for her reaction—the last thing he needed was to see her think about him . Instead, he turned his attention to the road, listening to the hum of the tires on the pavement through the missing back window. He wasn’t