Page 53 of Shadow

“He will be. I promise.”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere secure,” Daphne said. “Somewhere no one will think to look. And for the next four weeks, you are our mother. Can you do that?”

Destiny looked between them. Confused.

Asher stepped forward. “Mrs. Rousseau. For the next twenty-seven days, you’re Destiny Morrison. My stepmother. Daphne here is my wife. We’re helping you relocate to a retirement community, and your son is coming with you while he’s recovering from surgery. That’s the story. That’s what keeps you alive.”

Understanding dawned on Destiny’s face. “You’re protecting us by hiding us as family.”

“Exactly.”

“And you two are…?”

“Married. One year. Madly in love. Can’t keep our hands off each other.” Asher’s voice stayed deadpan. “Or at least, that’s what the neighbors need to believe.”

Daphne shot him a look.

He smiled. Slight. Almost genuine. “Too much?”

“Way too much.”

Destiny’s mouth twitched despite the tears. “You two are either very good at this or very bad. I can’t tell which.”

“Neither can we,” Daphne said.

“But we’re going to keep you alive,” Asher said. “That’s what matters.”

Destiny nodded. “Okay. I’m Destiny Morrison. Your stepmother. What else do I need to know?”

“Everything else, we’ll figure out in the car. We need to leave now. Roger’s released at two. We need to be in Renegade by then.”

They loaded Destiny into the back seat. An oversized roller bag, makeup case, pillow—sheesh, she wasn’t on vacation.

The US marshal handed Daphne an envelope. “Paperwork. IDs. Credit cards.”

“Thank you.”

They pulled away. Gravel crunching. Trees passing. Back toward the highway.

In the back seat, Destiny buckled in. “So. Tell me about my family. How did you two meet?”

Daphne glanced at Asher.

He glanced back and smirked.

“Well,” he started, “my honeycakes was remodeling her house…”

Probably, Asher’s brilliant idea would get him killed.

Roger Rousseau had a target on his back the size of Colorado, Destiny’s name was on a syndicate hit list, and Daphne Cross had just driven them into a retirement community where the biggest threat was supposed to be aggressive HOA rules and past-curfew parties.

Who partied after fifty-five?

Anyway, they already needed a session with Jerry Springer because real mom and real son were having a knockdown about who got the master bedroom.

And his fake wife was busy securing the house—adding motion sensors, door sensors, cameras, and making sure the place was breach-proof.