She wasn’t about to argue. She wanted to get as far away from this place as possible.
“Head for my car.” Miles urged her forward, indicating she should go first. She darted around the Dumpster, then sprinted as fast as she could across the parking lot to his car. Just like the night before, she yanked open the passenger door and quickly crawled into the back, unwilling to let Abby go.
Miles shut the passenger door behind her, then ran around to the driver’s seat. Before getting into the car, though, he went down to where the black sedan was parked to peer at the license plate. It only took a few seconds, but she found herself holding her breath until he joined them.
He slid behind the wheel, then floored the gas pedal, tires squealing as he drove away from the restaurant. The sound of sirens sounded faintly, as if the police were still far away.
“Who were those men?” She forced the words past the lump in the back of her throat. “Are they the same ones who shot at my house? And if so, how did they find us?”
“I don’t know.” His expression was grim as he met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “They had handguns, not a twenty-two rifle, so I can’t say for certain they’re the same ones who shot at your house. But one thing is for sure, the guy I watched obviously recognized my car. We need to get a new set of wheels, ASAP.”
Paige tried to rein in her scattered thoughts. “How would they recognize your car?”
Miles shook his head, keeping his gaze focused on the road. “Maybe from last night, when I drove away from your house. It’s possible they caught my license plate number. One of the gunmen pointed to the bullet hole in the rear fender.”
She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. “So now they’ll kill you, too? Just to get to me and Abby?”
Miles didn’t say anything and she couldn’t blame him.
He was in grave danger now, too, because of her.
* * *
Miles mentally repeated the license plate number until it was embedded in his memory. The wailing sirens grew louder so he made a sharp left, hoping he was heading in the opposite direction. He didn’t want to stop long enough to talk to cops in a different jurisdiction, not when he knew that whoever was behind the attempts to kill Paige and Abby knew what car he was driving.
Did Sci-Tech have access to the DMV database? Maybe. He quickly called his brother, Mitch. “Yeah?” his brother sounded groggy, as if Miles had woken him up. Granted it was only seven thirty in the morning, but still.
“We were ambushed not far from the motel. I need your help getting a spare set of wheels.”
“Are you okay?” After Miles quickly filled him in, he went into typical Callahan problem-solving mode. “You want to borrow my buddy, Garrett’s, truck?” Mitch asked. “He’s still in Afghanistan.”
Miles hesitated, wondering if the connection was too close. A few months ago, his older brother, Marc, had borrowed Garrett’s truck, and the bad guys had still found him.
Then again, in Marc’s case the bad guy had been in law enforcement with easy access to information about Marc and the Callahan family, not part of some high-tech corporation.
“Yeah, that would work, at least for now,” he agreed. “But I also want new phones and another safe place to stay.”
“Where are you now?” Mitch asked. “I’ll come and meet you wherever you want.”
Miles squinted at the road sign. “Looks like I’m about fifteen minutes outside of Brookland. Why don’t we meet at the park-and-ride right off the interstate?”
“Sounds good. I’ll be there.” Mitch disconnected from the call.
“Who is Mitch?” Paige asked.
“One of my brothers.” He met her questioning gaze in the rearview mirror. “Mitch is an arson investigator, so he understands what it’s like to be in danger and why we need a different set of wheels.”
“How many brothers do you have?”
He sensed she was making small talk in an effort to calm her daughter. “Four brothers and a sister, there’s six of us altogether. Don’t worry, we can trust them.”
She nodded, her lips curving in a slight smile as she pressed a kiss against Abby’s head. “Having a large family sounds nice.”
He thought about the fighting and bickering they’d done as they were growing up, wondering how their parents had put up with them. Yet Paige was right. Looking back, he realized he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“We’re safe now, Abby,” she said in a low, husky tone. “We’re going to get a different car and find a new place to stay.”
As usual, Abby didn’t respond, at least not verbally. Miles wished he could get the little girl to open up so he could find out what she had seen over the ChatTime link. Something about her father, but what? Had he called to talk to Paige, but been interrupted? Miles couldn’t imagine her father had attempted to give important information to a child.
He saw the glossy red truck waiting for them in the commuter parking lot and headed in that direction. Mitch eased out from behind the wheel when Miles approached.
“Hey,” his brother greeted him. “The disposable phones are in the passenger seat.”
“Thanks.” Miles pushed open the driver’s side door, then opened the passenger door for Paige and Abby. “Paige, this is my brother, Mitch Callahan. Mitch, this is Paige Olson and her daughter, Abby.”
“Nice to meet you.” Paige shifted Abby in her arms so that she could offer her hand.
“Same goes,” Mitch replied. He smiled at Abby. “Hi, Abby. How old are you?”
Abby hid her face against Paige’s neck and Miles scrubbed his hands over his face, knowing that exchanging gunfire with the two thugs behind the restaurant had no doubt shaken the little girl’s faith in his ability to keep them safe.
“It’s been a rough twenty-four hours for her,” Paige said softly.
“For you, too,” Miles added. “We barely managed to get away from the last pair of gunmen. I’m hoping that using the truck will cover our trail.”
Mitch nodded. “Yeah, no kidding. I went to your place last night. The damage wasn’t as bad as I originally thought. Whoever searched the place didn’t break stuff, but they sure looked in every nook and cranny. What do you think they were after?”
“I have no idea,” Miles replied, scrubbing a hand wearily over his face. He had been trying to figure that out for himself, too. The timing being so close to Jason’s death and the gunfire at Paige’s place made him think that everything was related, especially since he’d been working his father’s case for months and hadn’t even gotten any clues to go on.
“Work stuff?” Mitch asked.
“No. I don’t bring much of that home, and thankfully I had my computer.”
“Do you want us to clean the place up for you?” Mitch asked.
“No need to bother. I’ll take care of it, later.” He opened the passenger-side door for Paige, assuming that carrying Abby around must be exhausting. Her citrusy scent clouded his mind, making him want things he’d planned to avoid, like home and family. “Why don’t you sit down? We’ll leave in a minute or so.”
When Paige couldn’t seem to get up, he put his hands around her waist and lifted her, setting her on the seat. Then he went around to the trunk to grab the duffel bag and computer.