I drew the roads my family used. For twenty years, I never once asked what moved on them.
Then I drew one wrong on purpose, sewed it into my jacket, and ran north with nothing but a map tube and a heading.
I woke up in a junkyard in Arizona with a dog on my feet and a man standing over me who wanted the only thing I had left to sell.
Rook Delaney doesn't push. He doesn't argue. He asks one question, then goes away for a day and thinks about the answer, and it is the most dangerous thing anyone has ever done to me.
He says he doesn't care what my last name is.
He hasn't heard it yet.
There's a relic buried in Sonora, three days of desert between us and it, and a boy in my family who got there first.
How much of me is worth saving?
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Then I drew one wrong on purpose, sewed it into my jacket, and ran north with nothing but a map tube and a heading.
I woke up in a junkyard in Arizona with a dog on my feet and a man standing over me who wanted the only thing I had left to sell.
Rook Delaney doesn't push. He doesn't argue. He asks one question, then goes away for a day and thinks about the answer, and it is the most dangerous thing anyone has ever done to me.
He says he doesn't care what my last name is.
He hasn't heard it yet.
There's a relic buried in Sonora, three days of desert between us and it, and a boy in my family who got there first.
How much of me is worth saving?
Genre: Romantic Suspense