“Will they be able to track your renting this car?” asked Steers when he got back to the car. “Or the phone purchases?”
“No. I used a credit card with a duplicate identity that I set up a while ago. The same ID I used to set up my phone.”
They drove off and Nash hopped on the interstate.
“Where are we going?”
“Right now, away from here. We can settle on a destination later.”
As they drove along Steers stared out the windshield. He shot her glances from time to time and finally said, “You said you and Lord were good to go?”
“I believe I intimated that I was safe until the transaction officially closed. Now that it has. . .well, things have obviously changed. But we don’t know for sure it was him behind this attack.”
“Well, he’s right at the top of my list.”
She glanced at him. “We need to part company, Dil—Mr. Nash. Your chances of survival are much greater without me along.”
“Do you have any other properties that they might not know about that we can go to for now until we regroup?”
“Why do you still desire to help me, after all that I have done to you? It would make more sense that you would simply shoot me.”
“Look, just cut that shit out,” barked Nash. “For now, we need each other to survive.”
“Idohave such a property. I have kept it as a safe house of last resort.”
“Can we drive to it? Planes and trains are out.”
“Yes, but it will be a long drive.”
“Where is it?”
“In New Orleans.”
“The Big Easy. Interesting choice,” he commented.
“I like the weather. And it’s private.”
“Private is good, especially now.”
They stopped at a department store and bought some clothes and other essentials, which Nash put on his backup credit card. He also stopped at a gun store and bought an extra pistol and a box of ammo for it, as well as additional ammo for the Glock and the Beretta. Unfortunately, Steers had left her gun back at the gravesite when they’d fled. Then they headed south.
After three hours on the road they got off the interstate and had dinner at a pizza place in a strip mall. He had pasta and a beer, and Steers had a salad and water. They paid in cash.
As they walked out he said, “Not exactly high cuisine and amenities, I know.”
“Food is food. It does not really matter to me.”
Back on the road, they drove for another three hours. It was well past dark now, and Nash was weary.
“I would drive, Mr. Nash, but I never learned how and am not licensed.”
“Just call me Walter, okay?”
“And you may call me Victoria if you wish.”
They constantly checked for news on their phones of what might have happened at Steers’s estate. Finally, when they had pulled into a rest stop, the story broke.
Nash quickly read through it.