by Bella King
I look back up at Deputy Stephen. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions about this, but if it was the work of Rey, then I have a bad feeling about who the second shooter was,” I say.
“You don’t think it was Marybeth, do you?” he asks, his eyebrows arching back in distress.
I take a deep breath in. “Now, I’m not saying she did anything willingly, but on the security tapes, she’s the only one around Rey. I’d like to know what’s gotten into that girl.”
“She was so nice,” he says, shaking his head.
Deputy Stephen went to high school with Marybeth, which is how those two know each other. I knew her from the trouble I had with her parents, but that was a long time ago. Her father skipped town years ago, and she’s been alright ever since.
But now, with that Cartel boss having torn through our little Texas town, I’m not sure if she’s the same anymore. Men like him have influence over women, especially the troubled ones. I always figured that Marybeth would get over what happened to her, but perhaps it’s finally come around to take its toll.
I brush a flake of tobacco off my vest and turn from Eddy’s body. The investigation team will be here in a few minutes, but this is out of my jurisdiction. The only thing I can do is return home and tell Eddy’s friends and family the bad news.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Rey
The last thing I want to deal with after having to shoot some poor soul who wandered to close to danger is the cartel. The east precinct doesn’t give up easily, especially after losing something as valuable as a stamp, and they’re on our ass again. I fear we’ll never get a moment of peace when we’re still so far south.
I put my foot on the pedal with the fresh tank of gas in the car, but the cartel truck behind us isn’t playing any games either. They already have a guy in the truck bed, standing up with a gun mounted on the roof. That thing will rip us to shreds unless we get rid of him quickly.
This time, I’m not the one who is going to be saving us. There’s no time for that. Marybeth needs to be the one to take them out, and I don’t know if she’ll have the mental fortitude to do so after just having killed a man.
“Marybeth,” I shout over the engine. “You need to shoot them. Shoot to kill.”
To my surprise, she’s already turning around with the rifle, popping her head out the window to take out the enemy. I grab the belt loop of her shorts with one finger to keep her from falling out as I use my other hand to steer up to safety.
A sound like hail against metal splatters against the bar of the car and Marybeth pulls herself back into the cabin, letting out a yelp as we’re showered with bullets.
“Wait for them to reload,” I order.
Marybeth nods, her face painted with sheer determination. She doesn’t want to die just as much as I don’t, but there’s something else in her expression. This has more to do with proving herself than keeping us alive.
The bullets from the cartel continue to tear into the back of the Mustang, even with me swerving wildly in the road. If we don’t get a shot at them soon, one of those bullets is going to hit us. I’d rather it be me than my precious Marybeth.
She looks at me, blowing a kiss as I drive. The look in her eyes is fearless, as though she was born to do this. I never knew that picking up a strange young woman in Texas would lead to the strongest bond I’ve ever formed with another human being.
Even over the thirty-plus years that I’ve been raging through the planet, causing mayhem and earning dirty money, I’ve never met someone quite like her. I admire her, and I never want to lose her.
The gunfire stops, and Marybeth leans out the window again, taking advantage of the brief moment to counter the cartel. She unloads the clip into the truck, hitting the driver and the shooter in one spray.
I watch in amazement as the cartel truck swerves, running into a cornfield and disappearing into the vegetation. It doesn’t come back out, and not a single other car appears on the road behind us.
“Yes!” I pump my fist and grin wildly as Marybeth falls back into her seat.
“Are you going to let me come to Canada with you now?” she asks, blowing off the smoke rising from the barrel of her rifle.
I chuckle. “Marybeth, I already said that I would.”
“I just wanted to be sure,” she says.
I tilt my head to the side, my eyes meeting hers as I slow the car back down to a reasonable speed. “I would take you anywhere, darling.”
She smiles, fluttering her eyelashes. “That sounds like you have a crush on me.”
I laugh. “Maybe I do.”
“Maybe I do too,” she says, tossing a braid back behind her shoulder.
“Then let’s get serious,” I say, slowing the car down even further.
“What do you mean? I thought sex meant that things were serious,” she says, her smile fading.
“Could be, but I want to make sure you know what you’re getting into. When we cross that border, your old life is older. There’s no running back to it.”
“I don’t want to. I hated what I was doing. You literally saved me from being miserable, and I want to spend my life with you,” she says, her eyes glowing with hope.
I could never say no to eyes like those, and I won’t. I’m going to protect her with my life, from now until the day that I die. Nothing will come between us, and I can promise her that.
I smile, trying to get a smile back from her.
She beams at me. “So, we’re going to be together from now on, right?”
“Yes,” I say, settling into my seat. “We’re going to be together from here on out.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Marybeth
Fifty miles from the Canadian border, and we haven’t seen a single enemy cartel member since we gunned down the one in Oklahoma. It probably helps that we swapped the bright red Mustang not long after, but I’d like to think we just moved fast enough to evade them.
Rey has been a saint to me since we agreed that I was hopping over the border with him. Over the past few days, we’ve shared more of our stories with each other and have grown much closer. Through language and, of course, plenty of sex, we’ve explored our new bond.
I’m starting to feel like it’s going to be smooth sailing from here on out, but I don’t want to get my hopes up. We still have to cross the border, and we’re both probably wanted at this point. If anyone sees us, we’re going to have a lot of trouble on our hands.
“Ah, shit,” Rey says, slowing down as we approach heavy traffic.
“I thought this wasn’t a busy road,” I say, trying to peer over the cars to see how far the holdup goes.
“It’s not,” he replies. “There’s something else going on here.”
I frown, looking over the cars again to get an idea of what the cause is. Then, I see it. “Shit,” I say, sitting back down in my seat and turning to Rey. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t think it’s for us, but I could be wrong. Maybe you should drive,” he replies.
“You think they won’t recognize me?” I ask.
“I don’t know, but I do know that they’ll know who I am in a heartbeat. Besides, being pretty helps.”
“I’m not that pretty.”
He frowns. “You’re beautiful.”
I laugh, throwing back one of my braids and tilting my head to the side with an affectionate gaze. “I only want to be beautiful for you.”
“I’m sure everyone loves you, Marybeth,” he says, “But perhaps now isn’t the time to get into the lovey-dovey stuff. We’re about to hit a checkpoint.”
I straighten up, my smile fading like it was slapped right off my face. “Right, so you want me to drive?”
“Correct,” he says, throwing the car into park as we stop behind a van on the road.
I unbuckle my seatbelt, climbing into the driver’s seat as Rey jumps into the back of the car. There isn’t a whole lot of room there, but it’s enough to hide him from view when I roll
through the checkpoint.
They’re probably just looking for drunk drivers. That’s all. We don’t have to worry about anything. They’re waving people too quickly to be looking through their entire car.
My throat is tight as I put the car back into drive. Even if this is going to be an easy test, I wouldn’t put it past some cop to notice who I am and sound the alarm. I’d have to step on the gas, but there doesn’t seem to be a lot of room to go, even beyond the checkpoint.
I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly as I creep forward in line. I stop again as the next car is checked by a police officer with a flashlight, and I turn my head to look at Rey.
I giggle, despite the stress. He’s sprawled across the floor with a grin on his face and his silver revolver in his hand. I hope he doesn’t have to use that thing. I swear that my ears are still ringing from the shootout a few days ago.
The wooden steering wheel is sweaty in my palms as I inch forward again. My heart is leaping up to my throat, and no matter how many times I swallow, I can’t seem to get it to go back down. I need to remember why I’m doing this.
I close my eyes, picturing our potential future in Canada. Rey delivers his weird yellow stamp to the collector, and we live worry-free in a nice house in some snowy landscape, far away from anyone who can harm us. I never really like people anyway. Rey’s the only one I care about.
I jump as a horn blares behind me.
“What are you doing?” Rey asks from the back.
I open my eyes to see that the car in front of us has already moved forward, and I’m next up for the checkpoint. “Stay quiet. I’m about to go in,” I whisper.
“Fine, just pay attention and try to look normal.”
How normal can I look when I’m having a fucking meltdown in my head? I can deal with shootouts, and hell, I can even kill people I know, but this is tension to the maximum. I wasn’t ready for this at all.
I put a fake smile on my face and straighten up in my seat, making sure that my seatbelt is on correctly and that I appear to be nothing less than a model citizen. Not so long ago, that’s what I was.
The window squeaks as it rolls down, and the cool northern air floods the cabin with the smell of motor oil and a stiff breeze. I like it better than the dry heat of the desert, and it puts me more at ease as I roll up to the police officer at the checkpoint.
“Where’re you heading this evening?” he asks, his expression placid and uninspired. He’s probably been doing this for hours already, and he seems not to care.
Shit. I didn’t have any answers thought up in my head, but I don’t want to make up something too outlandish.
Think quickly!
“Lunch,” I say, flashing him a smile. “Want to join?”
He chuckles, his bored expression broken by my lighthearted proposal. He scratches the back of his head. “It’s a little late for lunch, isn’t it?”
I shrug. “I never eat on time. It’s better that way because you beat the crowds.”
“Right,” he says, looking over me toward the passenger’s seat.
I resist the temptation to follow his gaze. I have nothing to hide. This is a normal car, and I’m just a normal woman going to lunch. I never took acting in school, but I’d say I pulled off the vibe just fine.
The police officer looks back to me, studying my face for a moment before looking to the next car. “Drive safe and be on the lookout for a red Mustang. There’s a wanted prison escapee that kidnapped a woman a few days ago.” He waves at me to move forward.
I let the stale air out of my lungs in a heavy sigh as I roll forward. I thought for a moment that he had seen something in the car, but he was probably just looking for open containers. I’m not that careless.
The window squeaks closed again, and Rey speaks up from the back. “Is it safe to come out?”
“Just wait a second,” I say, scanning the cars ahead of us. “There’s still a lot of traffic.”
“Okay.”
I creep forward until the bottleneck clears, then I floor it, getting us the hell away from the police checkpoint. We’re on our way to Canada, and we’re so close that I can taste the maple syrup on my tongue.
“You can come out now,” I call over my shoulder when the checkpoint is no longer in sight.
“I thought you were going to have me waiting back there all day.”
I laugh. “I should, considering how you crammed me in the trunk when we first met.”
He climbs into the front seat, laughing with me.
“Do you want to drive?” I ask.
“It’s your turn,” he replies, leaning back in the seat and placing his leather boots on the dashboard.
“Alright, but you’re taking over once we get to the border.”
“Fair enough,” he replies.
I pause for a moment to think back to the checkpoint, and then I turn to Rey again as he buckles his seatbelt. “What would’ve happened if they recognized me?”
“I would’ve killed them,” he replies, his expression dead serious.
“That’s a pretty terrible thing to do,” I say, but I see his reasoning.
“I’m a terrible guy. Do you still want to go to Canada with me?” he says with a smirk.
“Of course.”
“Then don’t think too much about it,” he says. “Besides, I’d like to try to stay out of trouble once we get across the border.”
I smile. “I know you’re not going to go clean. You’re too immoral for that.”
“Morality is a social construct used to maintain the system,” he says, rubbing his chin.
“I wasn’t expecting philosophy from you,” I reply with a chuckle.
“It actually takes a great deal of philosophy to justify my lifestyle.”
“That sounds more like twisting the truth in your favor,” I reply doubtfully.
He shrugs. “We all do that to some extent. My beliefs are simply that the laws and moral structures in place aren’t absolute. Most people enjoy them, and that’s why they fit in with society, but people like me prefer to live by a different set of rules.”
“Like what?”
“Power, money, and sex,” he replies with a devilish grin. “Those laws have been around since the dawn of civilization. They’re probably more absolute than the ones you follow.”
“Maybe,” I reply, trying to mash up his ideas with the ones I was taught. They don’t fit together at all.
“Maybe this, maybe that, but who knows,” he says cheerfully. “All I know is that, according to you, I’m going to hell, and so I’m going to live my life to the fullest until then.”
I smile at him, not the least bit put off by his obvious differences to me. “Mind if I join you on your journey to hell?” I ask.
“I’d like nothing more.”
Epilogue
Marybeth
“Can I get a different name?” I ask, turning to Rey with a glossy white ID in hand.
“That’s the one that was generated for you.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I had a classmate with that name, and she was a total bitch.”
He smiles. “You’re the bitch now, I guess.”
“Not funny, “ I reply, tilting my head and glaring at him.
“You know how much those things cost?” he asks, thumbing through a stack of hundred-dollar bills.
“You seem to have plenty leftover,” I point out.
“Well,” he says, shoving the money in his back pocket. “I won’t if you keep asking for a new identity.”
“I don’t keep asking,” I reply. “I only asked once because this name sucks.”
“Then it fits you because you like sucking,” he jokes.
I roll my eyes, but I know he’s going to deflect any further attempts to swap the name for something different with humor. In truth, I’m grateful that he was able to pull this off and get us both new legal identities under a new government. It’s amazing what money can do, especially seven million dollars in cash from a stamp
collector.
I still can’t believe that Rey managed to sell that little yellow stamp for so much. I thought for sure that it was all an elaborate prank, and that he was really moving something more valuable, like precious stones or drugs. It was only once I met the stamp collector and saw his collection that I knew he was actually telling me the truth all along.
I won’t question why a piece of paper can hold so much value. It’s what paid for the new life that Rey and I have. Sure, we’re still neck-deep in crime, as we’ll always need protection from rival cartels, but life is easier despite all that. Everything feels smooth when I do it with Rey, and this sure beats the hell out of working at the drive-in.
I won’t miss home because it never really felt like home in the first place, but I did want to tie up a few loose ends with what few people who will remember me.
Last week I called my father’s house, but he wasn’t home at the time, so I left him a voicemail. I didn’t yell at him and shame him for what he had done to me in the past. I’m sure that losing me to the cartel was punishment enough for him.
I just called to tell him that I was okay and that I wouldn’t be returning. I had to leave it as a voicemail, but I don’t feel bad about it. I’m not sure I’d want to hear my father’s reaction to me running off with a criminal. It’s what my mother did years ago.
I turn to Rey, placing the new ID in my pocket and looking up at his handsome face. “What do you think about going out for drinks?” I ask. “To celebrate.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he replies, stepping toward me.
“Maybe afterward, you’ll get what you want from me,” I say, biting my lower lip and blinking in an exaggerated manner.
He leans over me, looking down at my face as I try to maintain a seductive expression. “I think it’s you who is wanting something.”
“Maybe.”
“And maybe I’ll give it to you,” he says.