by Bethany-Kris
“Five minutes,” he repeated to her.
Lucia nodded again. “Okay.”
“Love you, Lucia.”
She smiled for that.
Of course.
“Love you, Ren.”
He knew that, too.
Ride or die.
• • •
Renzo’s boots hit the sidewalk lining the small convenience store just before the Nebraska border. A few miles away from here, and they’d be out of Iowa. His fucking heart suddenly felt like it was going to explode inside his chest. He hadn’t been cocky enough to think that he wouldn’t be nervous at all, but he hadn’t expected it to hit at once without any kind of warning, either.
Aching lungs.
Clenched fists.
Sweaty palms.
Fuck.
It wasn’t like him to be so overt with his emotions, either. He was typically better at hiding it. Hell, he’d beat a guy to death once for stealing from him, and while he felt like he was going to vomit the whole time, he’d been told his expression hadn’t changed from a cold, blank slate even once.
Apparently, this wasn’t going to be the same. Renzo didn’t know how to feel about that, honestly.
Get in, and get it done, his mind said.
Yeah, that sounded about right.
He’d shrugged on a hoodie before he left the SUV—a baggy, black sweater with a hood just large enough to cover the top of the baseball cap he’d pulled on his head, too. As long as he kept his face tilted down, the brim of the hat would give his face some sort of cover as he looked for any cameras, and the hood would add extra shadows.
Would it be enough?
That was yet to be determined.
Renzo couldn’t really think about it for too long. He didn’t need to go down that rabbit hole when he was already two steps away from going inside the store, and far too many steps away from heading back to the SUV. Still, he knew the faster he got this done, then the quicker he could get back to where he wanted and needed to be.
It was that simple.
As he rounded the corner of the store, and reached for the entrance doors to pull it open, Renzo tossed one last look over his shoulder. He couldn’t see the SUV across the street and parked around the side of the building. But he knew it was there, and for some reason, just looking that way was enough to relax him a bit.
Not a whole lot.
But it helped.
It grounded and solidified his decision. Get in, and get it done. Then, he’d be right back there with them, and on the road again. That’s all he needed to do.
Renzo tightened his hold on the black duffle bag he’d taken from the back of the SUV after dumping out all of his clothes. As he swung the door open to the store, he stepped inside and reached in the bag to palm the butt of the gun resting at the bottom. Glancing upward, but not turning his head up so that his face could possibly be caught on camera, he eyed the most common spots for them and soon enough, found two.
He was aware of the woman at the back of the store digging through the fridges for a soda she wanted. He stepped aside for the man to leave the store with a pack of cigarettes tight in his grasp. He took note of the man behind the counter who was busy watching the game on the small television in the high, right corner.
He was hyperaware of all those things, really. It was like time slowed in his mind as he grabbed tighter to the gun, and readied to pull it out. Like everyone slowed down—everything caught his eye, and he took note of it in his mind—and his mind shifted again, just like that. All those nerves were gone, and that fast beat of his heart that felt like it was going to explode just moments before was now nothing more than a gentle thump-thump-thump in his chest.
Not painful, or distracting.
Simply there.
Renzo waited until the store door was closed behind him before he decided to move and act. He could have waited for the girl at the back of the store to get the hell out, but as it was, he’d already been standing there far too long. The guy behind the counter was looking his way, and he figured he looked like the stereotypical fucking idiot about to rob a place dressed in black with his face mostly hidden, and a black bag in his grip.
Might as well prove the theory right …
Pulling the gun from its hiding spot while holding onto the bag at the same time, he raised the weapon and aimed at the first camera he’d seen when he came through the door. The one on the far wall, watching each person that came in and out. He’d already had the gun racked and ready to fire before he even came into the store.
It was good to be prepared.
Renzo pulled back the trigger, and watched that bullet rip through the camera. Several things happened then—the woman at the back screamed, and Renzo couldn’t see her anymore when he looked that way. She probably dropped to the floor, but he didn’t check. As long as she stayed there, then everything was going to be okay for her and him.
The second thing that happened?
The guy behind the counter fell off his chair.
Maybe Renzo was expecting the older man to come back up with a weapon of his own—Iowa wasn’t known for their strict gun laws, after all. But no, the guy didn’t come back up with a gun. Rather, he edged higher until his eyes peeked over the counter and landed on Renzo as he aimed and fired for the camera up behind the counter that would catch anyone who approached in its view.
Once that was gone, he put his attention where it needed to be. On the counter, the cash register, and the man who controlled it.
“I really don’t wanna fucking hurt you,” Renzo muttered, “so let’s make this easy on me, okay?”
He stepped closer to the cash, and tossed the bag to the counter at the same time. Tipping the gun sideways, he gestured at the bag, and then at the wide-eyed, terrified man.
“Fill it with whatever’s in the cash drawer, and I’m gone. Any trackers in your cash?”
Some stores kept those just in case of a robbery to make it easier on police. Banks usually had them, too, as well as dye packs.
The guy shook his head, and swallowed hard. “We’re just a small store, we don’t—”
“Good. Hurry up, I’m running out of time.”
He wasn’t lying.
Already, he’d been in there two and a half minutes. Yeah, Renzo had been keeping count even with all the other shit running through his head and keeping him feeling like he was about to go insane. Counting down time made him feel slightly better, after all.
“Stop wasting time!”
Renzo never lowered his gun, or tipped up his head to give the guy a good view of his face. The man stopped fucking around then, and hit a button on the cash register that caused it to pop open.
It took thirty seconds to fill the bag.
Maybe a little more.
Renzo just kept counting down until he could finally get the fuck out of there. Back to who mattered.
• • •
The engine of the SUV was already running and warm when Renzo slipped into the driver’s seat. He threw the black duffle of money into the back seat—it couldn’t be much just based on what he’d seen the guy pull from the cash register, and he wasn’t willing to wait longer to make him open the safe in the back. Maybe three thousand, give or take a couple of hundred dollars. But add it to the money they already had, and they might be able to do something with it.
That’s what mattered.
He knew why the engine was still running, warm, and ready for him when Lucia was still moving from the driver’s seat into the passenger seat as he threw the SUV into drive, cut the wheel hard, and put the gas pedal to the floor. She didn’t even get the chance to buckle her seat belt as they burned rubber against the pavement.
“Thanks,” he said.
Lucia didn’t even ask for what. “Figured that was a few extra seconds we could afford to keep, you know.”
She wasn’t wrong.
Renzo kept darting to the rearview mirror, trying to see if anyone was following them, or if
blue and red lights were going to start flashing in the background. They had maybe ten minutes to put as much distance between them and the store as they could manage before the cops would surround the place, and send out cars looking for him.
Speaking of which …
He grabbed the burner phone from the dashboard, and tossed it over to Lucia. “Find us another route. Not the highway.”
He didn’t explain more, and she didn’t ask. Renzo was grateful because the last thing he wanted to do was talk. While he’d went back to that calm state of his inside the store, he didn’t stay that way. The second he stepped back outside of the store, he was slammed into reality once again, raging heart, overacting nerves, and all.
“What about this?” Lucia asked, turning the phone for him to peek at what she’d found on the phone’s built in GPS. “Could that work?”
Possibly.
“Yeah, better than nothing, baby.”
Lucia smiled. “Next left, then.”
Renzo took a hard left, and instead of heading toward the highway again, he went for a rural road that would take them twice as long to cross over into the next state, but would make them harder to find. If anything, it gave them a bit more legroom to move and figure something out.
He’d not realized how bad his paranoia still was when even ten minutes later, with trees surrounding them on the left and right, Renzo still kept peering into the rearview mirror. At the same time, Lucia hadn’t once peeked over her shoulder to check if someone was following them.
He felt out of control.
She was cool, and calm.
Jesus.
You go, I go.
Her words kept ringing in his head. It was the only thing making him feel even remotely better at the moment. Still, his paranoia raged on like it wasn’t going to simmer at all.
What if the SUV had been caught on cameras from another building?
What if the license plate they’d stolen from the first car lot had been put out by now?
“I think we should switch vehicles again,” he said quietly.
Lucia didn’t even question him. “We’ll have to wait until it’s dark again. Seems safer.”
She wasn’t wrong.
In the backseat, it seemed like Diego had finally woken up. “I like trucks.”
It was random as hell. Then again, if he’d been listening to them, it wasn’t random at all. If it was a truck the kid wanted next …
“We’ll find you a truck, buddy,” Renzo said.
THREE
“Where are we?” Diego asked.
Lucia passed Renzo a smile. It was the first time the kid had asked them anything in a while. He didn’t seem to care what was happening, really.
“Just outside Norfolk, Nebraska,” Renzo said, turning to rest his arm over the seat so he could stare at his brother in the backseat of the king cab Dodge truck. Yeah, they managed to find Diego the truck he wanted. How long they would keep it was anyone’s guess, though. More switched license plates, though this time they managed to grab an older truck out of a secondhand lot. “We’re going to stay the night, and drive some more.”
Diego peered out the window, and then promptly yawned. “Here?”
It wasn’t dark yet—dusk was more like it. The time between day and night when the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, and the sky was bright with burnt oranges, reds, and yellows as it promised night was coming soon. Night with a black backdrop and bright stars dotted across the inky canvas.
Lately, Lucia seemed to like night a lot more.
Diego and Renzo continued their conversation, but Lucia’s attention was on the window, and the place outside of their vehicle. The parking lot of the motel they had picked for the night, after checking GPS and making sure they were far enough off the beaten path, didn’t look like much. A standard three-star motel, according to the sign in the window, and thankfully, given the office was lit up, it seemed like they were still open to accept someone for check-in.
That didn’t make the place look any better, really.
It wasn’t even two floors, but rather, an L-shaped building with a front step entrance to each hotel room, and white siding that was starting to turn a little yellow. It certainly didn’t feel like a great vacation spot, but rather, a stopping point in the night for people like them who had been driving far too long and didn’t have any other choice. A sign attached to the entrance of the office said there was an in-ground pool in the back. Not that Lucia figured that was any good for them considering it was September, and they planned on getting back on the road before it was even light out again. The lights on the big sign mostly worked except for a few on the part of the sign that flashed a constant message of vacancy.
Which was funny because you know, the place was empty. It didn’t look like they had anyone staying there at the moment. Lucia figured that was good for them. Less people who might notice them, and all that.
But what did it say for the hotel?
Not very much.
“Hey,” Renzo murmured.
Turning away from the window to face him, she smiled. “Hey.”
He nodded his chin toward the offices about twenty feet away from where they’d parked. “You’re going to need to go in and get the room, just in case.”
Lucia frowned. “Just in case of what?”
“My face has been plastered on the news, or something.”
For the first time since she realized what Renzo had been planning to do, those nerves and worries that Lucia had managed to suppress came rising fast and harsh in her throat. It felt like a thick ball had come to rest right in her esophagus, and she couldn’t swallow. How silly she could be at times … or naive, really. She’d not even considered how easily Renzo’s face could have been caught on camera, and then plastered all over the place for people to be on the lookout for him.
And because they’d be looking for him, they might also be looking for her.
Not that she was worried about that, really. More the fact that at the moment, Renzo’s face could be widely known. On every news station who felt like the robbery was a big enough story to play it. That made her think—had they driven far enough to stop; were they really safe right now?
Her paranoia picked right up like it was an old friend who had come to hold her hand, and keep her extra cold for the rest of the night. She wanted to ignore it, but it was fucking impossible. She had done so well, too. Ignoring her anxiety like it didn’t exist in the first place. Maybe God was having a good laugh at her while He reminded her that she couldn’t ignore anything forever.
Reality was always right around the corner.
“Lucia.”
It was the smooth, dark tenor of Renzo’s voice that drew Lucia out of her thoughts. She was grateful for that, really. There was something about the way his voice washed over her senses that just … relaxed her like nothing else did. It was like an entirely different reminder. One that said if he was there with her, everything was just fine.
“Yeah?”
Renzo reached out and stroked her cheek with the pads of his fingers. They drifted down to her jawline, and then over her lower lip, too. Soft, and slow. It caused her skin heat up under the path his fingers took and made her smile for him.
“Don’t panic,” he told her like he had been reading her mind the entire time, “we’re going to be fine. Just have to be careful.”
Oh, was that all?
Lucia didn’t entirely believe that, but right then, she didn’t think pointing it out would be a good thing. The last thing she wanted was to be upset, or to distress him. They could figure this shit out later.
Right now …
“Give me some money,” she said, “and I’ll go get the room.”
Renzo grinned, and gave her a wink that made her stupid in her head. Sexy, and playful just like that. Like their whole world hadn’t just changed, and they weren’t running from the things they had done. Like it might never catch up to them if they just kept moving fa
st enough.
Who knew?
Maybe it wouldn’t catch up to them.
“That’s my girl,” he said.
Once Lucia had the money in her hand, she stepped out of the stolen truck and headed for the office to get the room. The first thing she noticed about the office when she stepped inside was the fact that it seemed as though she had been thrown back in time about twenty years. The second? Someone liked their tobacco.
The balding man who sat behind the counter didn’t even look up from the news he was watching as the daily highlights played through. The bell over the door had jangled to welcome Lucia inside, but he didn’t seem to care. Maybe that wasn’t a bad thing—if he was distracted by his television, then he wasn’t paying attention to her, or who was waiting outside.
Lucia approached the counter, and simply said, “Could I get a room for the night? Two beds, if you have one. But one bed is fine, too, as long as it’s a queen or bigger.”
The guy didn’t even glance away from the television as he muttered, “One-seventy-five a night, and I’m gonna need your ID in case you trash the room.”
Fuck.
She had her ID, but she couldn’t give it to him. She was not going to put her real name down on anything that might be traced back to her.
“Or,” the guy added after a moment, “you can put a credit card on file, so I can charge it if you trash the room instead.”
Lucia raised a brow, kind of annoyed. “You just assume everyone is going to trash the room, then?”
“I prepare, not assume.”
Right.
“What is the cost if someone trashes a room?”
“A thousand, usually.”
Lucia made quick work of counting out the thousand dollars, and the cost of the room for the night, before putting the stack of money on the counter. “There—cost of the room, and the deposit for you to have in case we trash it. We won’t, by the way.”
That got the guy’s attention. He turned away from his television for the first time, and took his time looking her over. Those beady, dark eyes of his traveled over her features, and then took in the simple clothes she wore, too. It wasn’t much. A cheap wrap dress she’d picked up at a Walmart when they had a chance to stop. She had grabbed a few pairs of leggings and yoga pants, too, plus some shirts, underwear, and things they all needed to clean up when they did stop somewhere. It wasn’t a lot, but rather, just enough.