No, that wasn’t fair or quite right. It wasn’t strictly his fault she’d almost been kidnapped, stolen away to serve whatever heinous uses this goddamned cult had dreamed up. Not his fault, but he was responsible. It probably wasn’t what Alec had in mind when he’d told him to step up to the plate. Andrew kept his attention strictly on the road. He had to make sure they weren’t followed, that they had a fighting chance of making it to Michelle before the cult caught up with them. But driving in silence afforded him the advantage of hiding—his fear, worry and, most of all, his self-recrimination. Kat wouldn’t have it. She’d chalk it up to guilt and tell him to knock it off. Maybe someday he would. The drive back to New Orleans was desolate, a never-ending exchange of one two-lane road after another, followed by interminable stretches of interstate. Through it all, he pushed down worry in favor of focus. There’d never been anything he couldn’t do if he tried hard enough, and this was one more thing on the list: keep Kat safe and destroy the collar.
