Free Sarah McCarty by Slade Page B

took a step back. Slade was right. She needed to get out of there.
    To stay was pure idiocy. And geniuses didn’t do idiocy. They only dealt in logic.

5
     
    TURNING on her heel, Jane tucked the flashlight into the back of her waistband and headed to the SUV Not because Slade had given her an order, but because she didn’t know what in hell else to do. She wasn’t Wonder Woman. She was a human female of above-average intelligence. She didn’t have superpowers. She couldn’t run at a hundred thirty miles an hour, and she was reasonably sure her three-times-a-week yoga class didn’t equip her to deal with werewolves, even if they were only half as fierce as lore provided. She ran her hand through her hair. Her fingers snagged in a knot. She yanked, but it held against her fingers. The keys jangled accusingly in her pocket.
    “Damn it!”
    Despite how pointless she knew looking back was, she still couldn’t help it. The box sat in dappled sunlight, innocuous and ... vulnerable. Everything in her rebelled at each step that took her away from it. It was wrong to leave Slade there.
    She opened the car door. The warning bells chimed as she put the keys in the ignition. In the rearview, the barn door loomed. Freedom. Escape. So why couldn’t she take it? Damn . Maybe because she’d forgotten to unchain the stupid thing? Instead of getting out of the car and handling the last barrier to her escape, she sat there, indecision gnawing at her. What if the werewolves came while Slade was helpless? What if he couldn’t heal as fast as he claimed?
    Jane licked her lips. Slade had a huge hero complex. Big enough that it might prompt him to lie rather than tell the truth. If she took the car, and the vampires who had chased them last night found him in a weakened state, he wouldn’t have any way to get away even if he was in perfect health. If injured, he’d be a sitting duck.
    But she’d be safe.
    Her survival instinct wasn’t as developed as it should be, because being safe at the cost of Slade’s life didn’t sound as enticing as it should.
    “I’m not a hero.”
    The words landed harmlessly in the car’s interior.
    She turned the ignition. The car hummed to life. She checked the gas gauge. Three-quarters full.
    Drive due north... I don’t want you to stop ... There’s cash in the false bottom of the glove compartment, along with a gun and instructions on how to use it.
    Slade had made sure there’d be enough of everything for her. Even in the event that he wouldn’t be there to help. She squeezed the leather-wrapped steering wheel. He’d known he might not get out of this alive. And he’d come for her anyway. Her own hero. Twenty-five years too late to be the answer to her childhood prayer, but he’d finally shown up.
    She cut a glance heavenward. “You’ve got a weird sense of humor.”
    A lightning bolt didn’t strike her dead. A sign she was going in the right direction?
    She told herself she’d started the engine to keep herself warm against the chill of the dawn and the depth of her own terror, but no amount of artificially generated heat could warm the cold inside her. For God’s sake, she was contemplating leaving a man to die. One who’d saved her life.
    She turned off the engine. She’d learned to live with a lot of things in her life, but that guilt wouldn’t be one of them. For better or worse, it would be her and Slade against whatever the day brought. She took the keys out of the ignition, bumped her elbow on the gear shift, and dropped the keys. Something on the floor under the seat bumped her hand. It was small and oblong. Not the keys. Switching on the light, she studied it. A transceiver was hidden under the front passenger seat. A cautious hope bloomed inside. A transceiver meant Slade had someone to talk to. Help.
    Unless he hadn’t known it was there.
    He had to know. A man who could manipulate energy had to be able to detect it. Why hadn’t he used it? Maybe because there hadn’t