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Joel said quietly, “Get out of here, Tracy. Now.”
    As the bright blonde cap of her hair left his line of sight, he launched himself at Mick, ducking under the big ham-sized fist that came flying at him and driving a stiff hand into Mick’s neck.
    In the distance, he heard the powerful purr of Tracy’s little Jaguar and he smiled coldly. She would get away.
    That was what mattered…
    * * * * *
    Tracy waited.
    Joel had taken her to the cabin three times, and each time had left one hot, sweet memory for her to look back on when she was alone.
    But a day passed, and then two.
    And she knew she couldn’t wait any longer.
    So she left. Maybe he just wanted to get her away from Grainger…maybe he wanted her forever.
    Licking her lips, she reached up, touching the string of pearls around her bruised neck. At first, she started to take it off, but then she stopped.
    Memories were all she was really taking with her.
    What did it hurt to take these as well?
    * * * * *
    She abandoned the pricey Jaguar at a strip mall in Shreveport, parking it on the side, right under a camera. If she had done it right, the only thing visible would be the back end of the Jag, with the front end of the car out of sight of the cameras that monitored most of the area. Slinging the black bag she had traded out for the gym bag over her shoulder, she moved the strap between her breasts before climbing out. Drawing a small penknife from her pocket, she sliced a thin line in her forearm, wincing a little at the burning pain.
    Bright red blood flowed and she turned her arm, letting the drops trickle down to splatter on the seat.
    Then she covered the cut on her arm, wrapped a strip of cloth around it, made sure the sleeve of her light jacket covered it, and no more blood dripped down.
    Disappear…make it look like you were taken…leave everything behind…
    Joel had been coaching her on what to do—as though he had been preparing her for when he wasn’t there.
    Maybe he had been…Tracy shoved that thought out of her mind. Part of her worried that something had happened to him.
    But she knew what she had to do.
    She’d shot her husband.
    She didn’t know if he was dead or not.
    It didn’t strike her as a good idea to be seen watching the news. There weren’t many pictures of her to be found, but if they tracked one down, it was going to be flashed across the TV for the next few days or weeks.
    All it would take was one person to see her, just one. Too many of Vincent’s friends would want her dead. She didn’t know much about his businesses, hardly anything. But they wouldn’t take that chance.
    If one of his friends saw her, she was as good as dead.
    She did one last look-through of the car as she blinked away tears. She had everything she needed tucked inside the bag on her shoulder.
    Everything but Joel…damn it, where was he?
    Heaven above, she wanted Joel.
    But he hadn’t caught up with her by now and if he was able to, wanted to, he would have.
    She couldn’t keep waiting.
    Couldn’t risk it.
    No. She wasn’t taking chances. She was going to do as she’d planned—disappear.
    So she tossed the keys to the floorboard and walked away.
    Walked away from her life.
    Chapter Four
     
    He’d signed a plea bargain.
    What was the harm in doing that?
    Joel stood staring grimly out over the landscape surrounding the prison in Maine. He was guilty as hell.
    It had been a year since he’d walked into this place. He knew it was entirely too likely that he’d never leave.
    He’d gotten a reduced sentence since he’d turned over all the information he had on Vincent Grainger and all the other bastards. But Joel now had several very angry, unhappy enemies.
    He’d testified against several of them. Received a few death threats in jail. Had to fight a few of them off. He even had a new scar.
    The thin scar that ran down his left cheekbone could have blinded him—could have killed him. Joel wasn’t really sure which it had been intended to do.