“Oh, okay,” said Hansen as Erin slid in beside him. “No problem.”

“Downtown Hilton please,” said Erin, throwing Hansen a nod that indicated she had been successful.

Erin had told him that during the long period she had waited for him to regain consciousness, she had reflected on a number of subjects: her life, her research, how she had ended up where she was, and her advisor, Jason Apgar. And then it had hit her.

Apgar was at a scientific conference the entire week. In Boston. Erin had told Hansen it was all she could do not to scream for joy at the top of her lungs, which would have risked giving away their position, even though she suspected she could have screamed for hours and never been heard.

This was incredibly lucky, she had explained, because she knew where Apgar kept a spare set of car keys in the office. And the exact lot at which he parked whenever he flew out of Tucson International Airport. He was a creature of habit, and they had attended conferences together on several occasions, during which he had taken her to the airport. And parked in the same lot each time.

It was too good to be true. If she had remembered this from the very beginning, they’d be well on their way to Colorado already.

But they couldn’t go directly to the airport. If the abandoned Malibu was found, Fuller’s people would quickly find the cabbie who had picked them up, and he would tell them of their trip to Erin’s lab and then to the airport. Better to pretend to be going to a large hotel first, to kill any possible trail.

They arrived at the Hilton, a beautiful stone structure honeycombed with rooms and surrounded by stately palm trees, and Hansen paid the cabbie while shielding Erin once again from his view. They waited until the cab was out of sight, made sure no one was watching, and slid into another cab, directing it to the airport.

Only twenty minutes later they had paid the second cabbie, and Hansen was pulling out of the airport lot in a gunmetal-gray Lexus with leather seats and all the electronic gadgets and extras anyone could ever want. A smooth-driving, sleek luxury car, the exact opposite of the Blue Medusa, although he had to admit that that car had done its job well.

“I’m pretty beat,” said Erin, as Hansen accelerated onto the onramp to I-10 East, a highway they would take for the next two hundred miles on the long journey to Boulder. “How would you feel about turning into a chauffeur in about thirty minutes?”

“Well, let’s see. You saved my life back at the Saguaro Inn. And you watched over me while I was unconscious for most of the past twelve hours. So … even though it will be an incredible sacrifice … I’ll do it.” He raised his eyebrows. “But just this one time.”

Erin smiled. “Just let me sleep for four or five hours and then I’ll drive and let you get some rest. In the meanwhile, how are you doing? Any aftereffects from whatever was in that dart? Which apparently had enough juice to put out an elephant.”

“I feel fine. A little sore here and there from throwing myself out of a car onto pavement. But, really, I’m just happy to be alive.”

It was also true that his entire psyche was still humming blissfully, despite their recent close calls and current desperate situation. He had met a phenomenal woman and had spent a night with her—after a considerable stretch in the sexual desert—that he would never forget. She had done wonders for him: physically, emotionally, psychologically … and every other way he could name, and he was well on his way to infatuation. He thought about voicing this sentiment but decided against it. He didn’t want to come across as giddy, and while he knew she wasn’t the type to jump into bed on a whim, and that she had definite feelings for him, he didn’t know just how deep these feelings went. They had just met, after all.

“Other than being tired, how are you holding up?” he asked instead.

“Surprisingly well,” she replied. “It’s funny, but this life-and-death stuff really does focus the mind. There is a certain appeal to it. A certain simplicity. Life is so complicated. So many decisions. But when you’re fighting for your life things become very straightforward. Priorities become very clear. And the excitement and adrenaline are there too.”

Hansen nodded. “I’ve heard that soldiers can get addicted to it.”

“There is still a large part of us that is animal. A will to live in the moment. And that’s what the survival instinct does for you. It frees you from petty daily worries and having to struggle with thorny ethical issues.”

“It didn’t free you from ethical issues at the motel,” Hansen pointed out. “You could have taken those guys out and you didn’t.”

“I have too much blood on my hands already,” said Erin. “Even if it is the blood of monsters.”

They drove in silence for a time, the highway nearly deserted at this late hour, and the all-enveloping night, broken only by their headlights lancing through the darkness, was hypnotic.

“So before I fall asleep on you,” said Erin as they passed an eighteen-wheeler, “tell me more about yourself. You haven’t really told me much.” Breaking into a smile, she added, “You know, other than your relationship status.”

Hansen groaned. “I’m never gonna live that one down, am I?”

She shook her head no.

“Well, I’m the youngest of three brothers. Grew up in Indy as I’ve said. I was a good long-distance runner on the track team in high school. Not because of my great athleticism, but because I was persistent enough to put in the hours needed.”

“And I’m guessing you were a chick magnet.”

Hansen laughed. “Well, yeah,” he said in amusement. “That goes without saying. I mean look at me,” he added, waving his hand past his bald head and down to the crosses inked on his neck. “What girl could possibly resist?”

“That’s why I shaved you,” said Erin. “So you’d be less appealing to the competition.”

Hansen smiled. With her in the game, there was no competition, he thought. Aloud he said, “Anyway, to continue, my father died in a car accident when I was seventeen.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Erin.

“Me too. I just wish I had fonder memories of him. He treated the family pretty badly. He wasn’t physically abusive, he could just be bitter and nasty a lot of the time. A brilliant guy, but he was the oldest boy of a family of eight when his father passed away. He had earned an academic scholarship to Indiana University, but he had to come home and take over the family furniture business, to support his mother and siblings.”

“That’s rough.”

“He didn’t take it well. He felt he never had the chance to live up to his potential, and resented the world for it.” He paused. “I was determined not to be like him in that way. That even if my dreams were crushed, I wouldn’t take it out on others.”

Erin opened her mouth to ask another question when Hansen said, “What about you? Yes, I started out knowing more about you than you did about me. But only on paper. What was it like growing up with your aunt and uncle?”

Erin sighed. “Complicated,” she said. “I was a real mess for quite a while. And while I had lost my immediate family in the most horrible way possible, my aunt had suffered the loss of a sister, brother-in-law, and niece. And they had three kids of their own, so integrating into the family was … complicated.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine.”

“I was also just about to enter puberty. A time when most kids are struggling to fit in and figure things out. My aunt and uncle were, and are, good people. But in the early days I found myself resenting them for not being my parents. And I hated myself for not doing more to save my sister, Anna. So I lashed out. I got into trouble in school. I got into drugs. I got into … well, let’s just say it’s a wonder I lived to see fourteen.”

“So how did you turn yourself into the well-adjusted, remarkable woman you’ve become?”