Under the Moon by Natalie J. Damschroder Page B

to hit the road as soon as we got home, but this way is definitely better,” Nick said.
    “Thank god for Sam.” She nodded at the attendant at the plane door, who smiled as brightly as the ticket taker had scowled.
    “With luck,” Nick continued once they were seated, “the Charger will be where we left it, and no one will have tampered with it.”
    Three hours later, they exited the warm terminal and stepped into the cool fall day. He stopped her as they approached the car, parked alone at the back of the short-term lot. The empty space made it impossible for anyone to hide or sneak up on them. It looked unharmed, but plenty could have been done to it without being visible.
    “Hold this.” Nick handed Quinn his duffel and circled the car, peering through the windows and examining the chassis. Then he lay down and wiggled underneath, making his way up the undercarriage. Quinn kept watch across the lot, listening to the scrape of Nick’s boots on the asphalt, random clink s and clunk s, and his occasional curse. After eight and a half minutes he dragged himself out the other side and dusted off his hands.
    “Looks fine. Let me pop the hood.”
    He took the keys from Quinn, unlocked the driver’s door, and pulled the hood release. Though he inspected the engine and checked all the hoses, belts, and lines, she could tell he remained aware of their surroundings. She probably should have been concerned about what he might find, but instead, she appreciated the curve of his torso over the engine block, the flex of his thigh muscles when he bent or leaned. For a brief moment, she considered dragging him into the backseat. The slam of the hood killed the fantasy.
    Nick motioned for her to get in the car. “This looks okay, too. Let’s roll.”
    A few minutes later they were on the road, heading north on I-71 away from Columbus.
    “Where do you want to go?” Quinn asked.
    He shook his head. “All the safe houses I know of are on the grid. We need something none of the goddesses or protectors know about.”
    She hated that they had to cut themselves off from their main support system. That the system could even be their enemy. But since he didn’t have a place for them to go, she did. “Okay. Go west on Thirty-three.” She pulled out her cell and dialed Sam’s number.
    He answered on the second ring. “You’re all right?”
    “We’re fine.” The Camaro’s engine hummed in the background. “You’re out?”
    “Yeah. I got everything we should need. Where are we going?”
    “Benton Harbor.”
    “’Nuff said. See you in a few hours.”
    She turned off the phone to conserve the battery and slid down until her head rested on the back of the seat. “Take Thirty-three to Seventy-five north. Wake me when you need me to drive.” She fell asleep smiling at Nick’s snort.
    …
     
    Quinn woke when the car slowed. Less than four hours had passed, and Nick was pulling into a gas station off the highway. The windshield wipers flapped at top speed, sweeping waves of water off the window. The rain pounded on the roof, and Quinn wondered how she could have slept through it.
    “We near Sturgis?” she asked, rubbing her eyes and pushing up in the seat, recognizing the wide, flat terrain as Northern Ohio. Her neck hurt, but she felt more rested than she had in two days. Nick looked weary but alert, and she wondered how he’d managed to keep going so long.
    “Angola. Rain slowed us down some.” He pulled under the pump overhang and the noise disappeared. “You hungry?”
    “I’ll go in.” She looked toward the convenience store. “What do you want?”
    He narrowed his eyes at the store entrance a few feet away, taking a moment to study the interior and sweep the area before nodding. “Whatever looks halfway decent. Large coffee.” He leaned to dig his wallet from his back pocket.
    Quinn waved him off. “I’ve got it.” She eased herself out of the car and stretched, reaching high and arching her back as far