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take this job?
    â€œI will, sir.” He climbed into the front seat and started the engine. “Stay down and out of sight,” he cautioned the pair in the backseat.
    Without a word, Viv sank to the floor of the backseat.
    Mikey was still making his high-pitched wails. Vivwrapped her arms around him and gently rocked. Anthony could feel the kid’s agitation with solid kicks against the leather backrest of the driver’s seat. The garage door rumbled open too slowly. Anthony’s fingers flexed on the steering wheel. He revved the engine. The second the door was high enough, LeMar, in the bright yellow Humvee, roared out of the garage, down the short drive and took a sharp left.
    Anthony threw the dark green Range Rover into gear and sped out of the garage, turning right. He gunned the motor and zipped toward the subdivision’s front entrance. Nerves stretched tight, he kept a sharp eye out.
    Five minutes later he hit the highway and drove the Rover to the limit, dicing through the mid-morning traffic and around curves like a pro racer. Or more like he was driving a go-cart from his youth.
    When he was sure they were far enough away and not being followed, he said, “You can sit up now.”
    Vivian slowly rose. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
    In the rearview mirror’s reflection she did look a bit green. “That would be very unfortunate.”
    Her gaze collided with his. The beautiful ice-blue eyes could freeze a man to the core or melt him to a puddle.
    â€œYou think?” her voice dripped with sarcasm.
    Anthony jerked his attention back to the road. He had no intention of freezing or melting. Staying detached and unemotionally involved with his client could be the difference between life and death. But it hadn’t made a difference for the Kashmir delegate. The painful thought settled in his stomach like a rock.
    Behind him, Mikey had quieted down. No more jabsto Anthony’s kidneys through the back of his seat. “He okay?” he asked, keeping his gaze on the road.
    â€œYes. Car rides usually calm him.”
    â€œCan you direct us to the airport?”
    â€œWhere are we going?”
    â€œBack to D.C.”
    â€œIt’s not safe there.”
    He heard the thread of fear in her tone. “You’ll have to trust me. You’ll be safer in the custody of real federal agents than out in the open.”
    â€œYeah, right,” she muttered.
    â€œThe sooner we’re on a plane heading east the better.”
    â€œWell…”
    The hesitation in her voice pricked his alarm. “Well?”
    â€œIt’s just…”
    He sought her gaze through the mirror, again. “Just what?”
    Her top teeth tugged at her bottom lip. “I don’t know how long Mikey will stay calm. He usually has a very set schedule. He tolerated the plane ride here because he slept for most of it. But…”
    â€œWe’ll deal with any tantrums.” Boy, the kid had her wrapped around his finger. “You’re the parent. He’ll have to do as you say.”
    She sighed. “If it were only that simple.”
    â€œWhy isn’t it?”
    â€œHow much do you know about me? About us?” she asked, her eyes piercing him through the mirror’s reflection.
    He mentally went over the thin dossier he’d read on the plane from Boston, that was still on the counterback at the house they’d just fled. “Your husband was the sitting junior senator for the state of Idaho. He had just declared his intent to run for the presidency. You’ve been married for nearly twelve years and you have one son, Michael Steven Grant.”
    He didn’t mention other details, such as her husband’s string of affairs dating back to when he was a councilman for the city of Boise and the numerous beauty pageant wins of the stunning Vivian Leigh LeMar Grant.
    â€œWell, Steven was careful to keep much of our lives private.