Page 161 of Override

Maeve hasn't let go of my hand once. Not when we turned onto the highway. Not when she finally leaned back against the seat. Not even now.

I don't think she realizes she's still holding it. The thought makes something dangerously warm settle beneath my ribs.

I leave it alone. If I think about it too much, I'll ruin it.

The GPS announces the next turn. I don't need it. I'd memorized Bullet's safe house years ago. Mostly because he thought nobody knew it existed.

The gravel driveway crunches beneath the tires as I ease the SUV between a line of pine trees. A small cabin comes into view, tucked against the edge of the woods with a wraparound porch and enough distance from civilization that nobody would think twice about a light burning in the windows.

Maeve studies it through the windshield. "...It's pretty."

"It'll do."

She smiles. "It'll do?"

"It's structurally sound."

Her laugh slips out quietly. "There you are."

I glance toward her. "What?"

"The statistics."

I can't help it. The corner of my mouth twitches.

I park beside the porch and finally pull my hand away, immediately missing the warmth of hers.

I climb out first, circling the front of the SUV before opening her door.

She steps out slowly, taking in the silence around us.

"No guards?"

"No."

“No cameras?"

I hesitate. "...Fewer."

She rolls her eyes. "There you are again."

"What?"

"The honesty that's technically not honesty."

Fair.

I lead her toward the porch, stopping beside a large ceramic planter overflowing with bright yellow flowers.

I crouch, reaching beneath the lip of the planter until my fingers close around the spare key.

"You're kidding."

I glance over my shoulder. "What?"

She points at the planter. "It was under the flowerpot?"

"It's statistically one of the first places people look."