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beach road.”
    Spots danced before his eyes. The vehicle took a sharp turn, and his head slammed against the window.
    “Hauke?” Her voice sounded far away.
    He felt her fingers wrap around his hand and squeeze. “Stay with me.”
    His world went black.
     
    * * * *
    “Shit. Don’t you die on me.” Abbie had noticed Hauke slumping in the seat long before his luminous green eyes rolled back in his head.
    She drove as fast as the law would allow. The last thing she needed was to be noticed by the police for speeding.
    Abbie eased the car along Highway 98 through Destin without mishap, making a couple of expert turns until a white two-story house came into view.
    She pulled into the circle drive, stopped in front of the historical home, and switched off the engine.
    There were no lights visible in the home, save for a dim yellow bulb burning above the porch.
    Abbie got out and climbed the steps, ringing the doorbell with numb fingers. Nausea rolled, leaving her thankful she hadn’t finished her burger before heading to the lab that night.
    Anthony Vaughn, otherwise known as Tony, was Abbie’s only living relative on her mother’s side of the family. Abbie hadn’t seen him since her tenth birthday when he’d gone off the grid and disappeared for years without a word.
    Henry had never allowed her to visit Tony, stating he suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder and was considered a loose cannon.
    According to Abbie’s father, her uncle Tony had been involved in counterintelligence for the CIA before a group of terrorists slipped into his home one night and murdered his wife and child in front of him.
    Tony was found two days later, barely alive and lying in a pool of his own blood, holding his deceased three-year-old son in his arms.
    After being hospitalized for weeks and treated for PTSD, Anthony Vaughn went back into the field as a paid assassin.
    Still unclear as to what happened in the months that followed his return to work, he was eventually forced to retire with a hefty pension and a destroyed file…as if he’d never existed.
    Something pressed against the back of her head, and the sound of a gun being cocked nearly buckled her knees. Twice in one night?
    A raspy voice spoke next to her ear. “What do you want?”
    “I-I’m looking for Tony.” The nausea was back with a vengeance.
    “Who wants to know?”
    “His niece.”
    “Put your hands where I can see them, and real easy like, turn around. Try anything, and they’ll be searching for pieces of your brain for months to come.”
    Abbie somehow managed to keep the contents of her stomach from emptying on her shoes. “Okay, just please don’t shoot.”
    Extending her arms out to her sides, she slowly pivoted on her heel.
    Surprise registered on the man’s face, but it was gone so fast she thought she’d imagined it.
    “Tony?” He had her uncle’s eyes but nothing else.
    Long hair peppered with gray hung past his shoulders. A deep scar ran from his left temple to disappear inside a poorly kept beard that covered most of his jaw. He wore a black T-shirt and faded jeans complete with a pair of combat boots.
    His gaze cut to the street beyond. “Were you followed?”
    “No, I don’t think so.”
    “Where’s the fugitive?”
    “He’s not a fugitive, and how did you know—”
    “You both are; in case you haven’t heard.”
    Abbie didn’t question his knowledge of the lab incident. He was ex-CIA after all. “He’s in the car.”
    Tony lowered his weapon. “Get inside.”
    “I have to help Hauke.” She had no idea how unstable Tony was in this moment. Something about his eyes disturbed her. They appeared vacant, void of emotion…lifeless.
    “You’ve done enough already. I’ll dispose of him, and then you and I are going to come up with a believable story to get you out of this mess.”
    “No.” She grabbed onto his arm when he started to turn away.
    He stared down at her fingers a moment before pinning her with a glittering,