Victoria almost laughed. Marcus looked at him again.
You're coming with us. Elias sighed quietly.
I figured. Marcus gestured toward the front passenger seat of the damaged SUV.
You ride there. Elias blinked.
You trust me that much already? Marcus shook his head.
I trust you more than a mechanical failure I don't understand. Victoria smiled faintly.
That's practically a compliment. Elias looked toward his pickup truck parked a few yards away.
His old truck sat alone in the rain, headlights off, tools scattered in the bed from the tire job. Inside the cab was his phone.
And on that phone were two missed calls from home. He imagined Lena staring at the clock again.
Marcus followed his gaze. You got somewhere to be?
Elias hesitated. My daughter.
Victoria's voice softened slightly. How old?
Nine. Marcus glanced at the convoy.
This won't take long. Elias wasn't convinced.
But he also knew something else. Someone had just tried to kill this woman.
And whoever had done it was still out there. If the trap had worked, he would have driven away never knowing.
Instead, he had seen it. And once you saw something like that, you couldn't pretend you hadn't.
He grabbed his tool bag and tossed it into the back seat of the SUV. Marcus opened the driver's door.
All right, he said. Let's get this moving.
Elias slid into the passenger seat. Victoria stepped into the rear seat behind them.
The convoy engines roared to life around them. Marcus started the vehicle carefully.
The repaired brake line held. Slowly, cautiously, the convoy pulled back onto the wet highway.
And as they began moving again into the night, none of them realized the person who had set the trap was already planning the next one. The repaired SUV rolled forward slowly, easing onto the wet highway with the rest of the convoy forming a protective wall around it.
Marcus Trent kept both hands steady on the wheel, his eyes flicking between the road ahead and the dashboard indicators. The brake pressure gauge held steady for now.
Elias sat in the passenger seat watching the road the way he had earlier on the shoulder. Not the vehicles around them.
Not the convoy. The road.
Victoria Hale leaned forward slightly from the backseat. Her voice calm, but firm.
Speed? 35, Marcus answered.
That's slow. Slow is safe, Marcus replied.
Elias nodded. For the next few miles, yeah.
The rain had softened into a mist now, leaving the pavement slick and reflective beneath the headlights. The rest of the security vehicles spread out around them in a tight protective formation.
Marcus spoke quietly into the radio clipped near his collar. Convoy maintaining low speed.
Route change confirmed. Southbound.
A voice crackled back with acknowledgement. Victoria rested her hand against the back of the front seat.
How far to the alternate road? Marcus glanced at the navigation screen.
About 8 miles. Elias leaned slightly toward the windshield, watching the faint curve of the road ahead.
That's where you'll want to slow again, he said. Marcus frowned.
You memorizing the road? Elias shrugged faintly.
Habit. Victoria studied the back of his head.
You really did spend a long time doing this. Elias didn't answer directly.
Instead, he said, "Road conditions tell you a lot if you pay attention." Marcus drove in silence for another minute before speaking again.
You said earlier that whoever set the trap probably planned a backup. Yeah.
You still think that? Elias's eyes remained on the highway.
I know they did. Marcus tightened his grip on the wheel slightly.
You're very certain. Because they came back.