She walked as casually as she could through the alcove that held two very nice but small restrooms and one broom closet. Neither bathroom had windows, so the movie staple of the woman or man climbing out the bathroom window to escape everything from a bad date to death by assassins was out. Beyond the broom closet, however, was the emergency exit.

Armand, fortunately, didn’t have a fire alarm rigged up to the door. But if Carly opened it, the glare of the sun outside might shine back down the hall.

She had to risk it. Carly waited until several loud vehicles passed in front of the shop. Spike turned to glance at them. At the same time, Carly opened the back door a little, slid through, and closed the door as quietly as she could.

Yvette’s car was five feet away. Now to hope that Connor hadn’t woken up and was looking out the office window.

Carly got into the car, closing the door so it only clicked. She set her purse on the passenger seat, put on her seat belt, and started the engine.

No one came flying out through the office door or the emergency exit. Carly backed the car out of its parking spot as slowly as she dared, then drove down the alley.

She passed the backs of four more shops before she turned onto a small driveway that led out to the main street. From here she turned right, even though she needed to go left to get back to Austin. She didn’t want to risk driving past the gallery and its wide plate-glass windows.

Carly had to drive around a few blocks, once down a street that was still dirt, before she emerged onto the main road again. Then she drove as fast as she dared. At any moment, Spike would figure out that she was taking way too long in the ladies’ room, or Yvette would go in and find her not there. Spike and Connor would leap into Dylan’s truck, and they’d be on her ass in minutes.

There was only one paved road, a two-lane highway, that led back into Austin, so she couldn’t take a circuitous route to lose any pursuit. If Carly drove too fast, she might get pulled over, giving Spike a chance to catch up. Too slowly, and he’d catch up anyway.

Despite her fears, the road behind her remained clear. Carly breathed easier when she reached the tangle of Austin traffic and turned from the narrow highway to the 290, approaching the heart of Austin from the north and east. She went south on I-35 and got off on a frontage road near Ben White, driving onto back roads that led around the warehouses.

These were active warehouses with trucks and men working, some of whom stared at Carly as she went by in Yvette’s Fusion. Good thing Yvette had come to the gallery independent of Armand, and Carly hadn’t had to use the BMW. That would have been remembered.

She saw Tiger waiting in the shadow of a warehouse, right where he said he’d be. He’d covered his striped hair with a baseball cap, and she couldn’t see his Collar under the high-necked T-shirt he wore under a flannel shirt. Lounging against the side of the building, he looked like just another Texas boy waiting to go back to work.

Carly pulled over. She popped the locks on the doors, and Tiger slid inside, lifting Carly’s large purse and settling it on his lap.

“We need to go somewhere and talk. Somewhere safe, where they won’t find us.”

“All rightee.” Carly’s fingers shook. “You’re scaring me, Tiger. What happened? How did you get here?”

“I talked to Walker. He drove me a ways, and I walked the rest. Do you know where to go? Not your house.”

Carly thought rapidly. “Yes. Yes, I do. It’s a bit of a drive.”

“Good. But not in this car. Park it, and we’ll take another.”

Carly stared at him. “You want me to steal a car? It’s one thing to borrow Yvette’s—I can convince her I needed it—but you’re talking about grand theft.”

“You’ll be found in this one. Park it.”

She stared at him a moment longer, then she shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Carly put the car in gear and drove it around the corner from the warehouses to the line of chain hotels that faced the freeway. She parked Yvette’s car in a back lot among similar-looking vehicles, locked the car, and dropped the keys into her purse.

She and Tiger walked through the lot, Carly trying to match Tiger’s ability to look purposeful and nonchalant at the same time. He didn’t bother telling Carly why he’d called her out there, what had happened, what was wrong. Any question was met by silence.

Tiger stopped by a car that looked a bit older and well used, and stood with his back to it while he tried the door handle. That car was locked, but a few rows and a couple more tries later, he found another well-used one that was unlocked.

“What do we do now?” Carly asked. “Hot-wire it?”

The parking lot was deserted except for the vehicles. The sun beat down, reflecting on the metal, fiberglass, and asphalt. Beyond the squat hotels, the freeway ran heavy, the day drawing to its close.

“Connor taught me,” Tiger said.

He opened the driver’s-side door, but Carly forestalled him. “I’ll do it. I can’t think what they’d do to a Shifter if you were caught driving a hot-wired car.”

His gaze flicked to her. “You know how?”

“I was a rebellious teen, and I hung out with other rebellious teens. We weren’t all that bad, but we were mischievous.” Carly slid into the driver’s seat while Tiger went around the other side.

“Lucky us,” Carly said. “He left the keys in it.” She laughed a little as she moved the worn gearshift and brushed at least a year’s worth of crumbs off the dashboard. “Maybe he doesn’t care about it being stolen.”