I moved my holster so that it rode sideways over my stomach, making it easy for me to reach for it should I need it. I stomped on the brake, turned the ignition key, and realized my knees were bumping the console. I had forgotten that Connie had been driving and she’s much smaller than I am.
“Shit!” Okay, this is going to hurt like hell. Using my left, almost useless arm, I reached down and adjusted the seat back. Sweating and gritting my teeth, I panted at the pain it caused.
“Let me help,” Connie said, opening her door.
“No! Stay put. I’ve got this,” I demanded, harsher than I meant to be.
“I just wanted to help. You don’t have to be such a bitch about it.”
I glanced over at her pouting face and couldn’t help but smile. I was seeing the true woman behind the shyness. Just because a person is shy doesn’t mean they aren’t strong, as well.
I tucked the lap belt under my holster so it wouldn’t interfere with my gun. The strap was bothering my shoulder so I pulled on it and hooked it under my holster as well. If we have a wreck I’m totally screwed, but for now, it felt better that way. Must go faster. Inhaling quickly to prepare for the wave of pain I knew would come, I lifted my left arm and adjusted the side mirror. Laying my wounded arm in my lap, I exhaled again. It’s amazing the things you take for granted when you are restricted from doing simple things.
“Damn it! I forgot my phone back there.”
“Don’t worry, I packed it in my bag.”
“Thanks. I still haven’t check my texts yet, and I really need to call my folks. They’re probably worried sick about us by now.”
“I left them a note, assuring them that I would be all right,” she explained, petting the cat curled up in her lap.
The leash tangled around the cat’s legs reminded me that I really need to get a look at that folder. First, I needed to get out of this state and get some help.
“Can you tell me now, what happened back there?” she asked.
Merging onto I-77 North, I checked both mirrors to see if we were being followed. “Every computer has a name and an identifying number that can be traced if you know how. Connecting to the Internet opened the door, so-to-speak.
“But how would they know it was us?”
“They can write an algorithm that crawls the Internet searching for computer registration numbers by state, then by last known location. I paid for my laptop with my credit card, leaving a digital trail for them to find.” Stupid, stupid, stupid!
“Hettie… I really am sorry about getting on the Internet. When I opened it up, it asked if I wanted to connect to the Wi-Fi and I didn’t think it would hurt anything.”
“You didn’t know, and I didn’t think to tell you. It’s on me.”
“No, it is not. You said we were in this together. We’re a team.”
“That’s right. You, me, and the cat.”
“Just like the Three Musketeers,” she kidded.
“Well, maybe two and a half musketeers,” I rebounded.
As if the cat knew we were talking about her, she jumped up on Connie’s lap and began bathing her ass. “So, where are we going?” Connie asked, oblivious to the cat’s licking.
I focused on the road again. “We’re going to Bowling Green, Kentucky. I’ve got a… uh… friend there who can help us.”
“A friend?”
“Yeah, an ex-girlfriend who works for the Marshals at our Kentucky Western District in Bowling Green.”
“An ex-girlfriend?”
I glanced over to read her facial expression. Unexpectedly, I realized that I was disappointed when she didn’t appear to be jealous. “She was more of a space-filler girlfriend.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
Smirking, I said, “You know, someone who fills the space for a while until someone better comes along.”
“And did someone better come along?” she asked, glancing at me.
“No. Not yet.”
She scratched her head. “I’m confused. Why is she your ex-girlfriend, then?”
Busted. “We just sort of went our separate ways. I stayed in Virginia, and she transferred to Kentucky. End of story.”
“Uh, huh.”
“So, anyway. Angie can get us inside the network.”
“How will that help us?”
“She can find out who’s trying to tap into my laptop by creating a Trojan horse.”
“I’m sorry, Trojan horse?”
“Yeah, she can create a type of reverse backdoor that would send their malicious code back to them, giving us access to their system.”
“And then you’ll know who the mole is, right?” she asked, still looking confused.
“Exactly. I need to know who I can trust. Once I know who’s trying to kill us, we can feed them misinformation and catch them at their own game.”
“Good. I really need for this to be over. I don’t think I can take much more.”
“I know, kid,” I said, glancing at her. “Just hang with me a few days more, okay?”
“Of course. We’re the two and a half musketeers.”
Chapter Sixteen
Amanda Sanders (Connie Yarbrough-Morrison)
We’d been traveling for almost three hours, talking about anything and everything. I found myself really enjoying our conversations and learned a lot about the woman who had sworn to protect my life. Hettie loved watching scary movies at midnight, beating her brothers at pickup basketball, and reading. She told me she would read two or three books at the same time just for fun. I wondered if it wasn’t more that she was looking for something she didn’t have in her life. Before I met Meredith, I read more than my share of lesbian romance novels just to remind myself that there was the possibility of everlasting love. The books were wrong. It didn’t last, and I was a fool to think that it could.
“So, tell me about you and Meredith. What did you two do for fun?”
My mouth opened but my brain wouldn’t work. Most people avoided talking about Meredith, probably afraid that I’d start crying, I guess. They would have been right. “Well, Meredith liked scary movies also, so we’d pop some popcorn, snuggle on the couch, and watch some terrible movies together.”
“So, you don’t like scary movies?” she asked.
“No, but I did like being held by Meredith every time the monster popped out of the bushes.”
“Yeah, that is almost the best part of scary movies.”
“Almost?”
“Well,” she smirked. “Fear can be erotic, too.”
“Um, if you say so.”
She looked at me and winked.
My entire life I’d wished for one thing. Not to blush so easily. I was wishing that again as I visualized what Hettie said. It got really hot in that car. Steamy… humid… salaciously hot. “So, you’re one of those types,” I countered, hoping to learn a little more.
“If by that you mean being adventurous in the bedroom, then yeah, I’m one of them. I like it rough when I’m frustrated and soft when I’m lonely. I don’t like it the same way every time, and I’m not opposed to being on the bottom once in a while.”
Damn it. Blushing again. I was in over my head, so I decided it would be safer to change the subject. “So, did you always want to be a deputy?”
“Nice segue,” she teased. “Yeah, I always wanted to be a U.S. Marshal. It offers me a lot of creative flexibility in catching the bad guys.”
“Sounds dangerous. But I have to admit, I’m glad you’re a deputy. I’m alive because you are.”
She braced the stirring wheel with her knee and tipped her imaginary hat at me. “Happy to serve, ma’am.”
I smiled affectionately. Her gallantry, however playful, warmed me to the core. I felt different around her somehow. Safe, yes, but it went deeper than that, and I wasn’t sure what it meant. Well, let’s just say I wasn’t ready to accept what it meant. I just wanted to enjoy it for a while without overthinking or putting conditions on it.
�
�We need to make a pit stop pretty soon,” I said.
She glanced over at me with a smirk on her face. “Sure. We’re coming up on Knoxville, we can stop there and grab some food and use the can. I don’t want to be too long, though. It will be rush hour soon, and I don’t want to get bogged down in the five o’clock traffic.”
“How’s your shoulder?”
She frowned and moved the fingers on her left hand. “It’s pretty stiff. I could use some Tylenol if you’ve got any?”
“I don’t, but when we stop, I’ll pick up a bottle. Your dressings probably need changed, too.”
“That can wait until we get to Bowling Green,” she stated. “I don’t want to waste any time at the pit stop.”
I leaned forward and looked at her shoulder. “No, I don’t think it can. You’re bleeding again. You need more antibiotic ointment.”
“What I need is to get us someplace safe so I can look at the memory card. We’ve only got another three hours and then we’ll be in Bowling Green.” She looked up at the rearview mirror.
“Is someone following us?” I asked.
“Not that I’ve seen, so far. But when we stop in Knoxville, do not let me out of your sight, understand?”
“That will be hard to do when I’m in the bathroom.”
“Not if I go in with you,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Oh.” Again with the damn blushing.
She arched an eyebrow. “I won’t peek if you won’t.”
“Watching someone pee is not really something that I would enjoy.”
“You’d be surprised,” she responded with another wink.
Damn it! My face was going to be permanently red if this kept up.
“Okay, coming into Knoxville,” she stated, thankfully changing the subject. “Look for one of those mini-marts where I can fill up the car and you can go pee.”
“Oh, darn. And here I thought you were coming in with me.”
“Well, if you insist.”
I set myself up for that one.
We pulled in to the first mini-mart that looked large enough to have everything we needed— food, gas, and cat litter. Hettie was true to her word. She followed me into the bathroom and, after making sure we were alone, took the stall next to mine. It was incredibly hard to pee knowing she was right there listening. That was until she farted loudly and my giggling covered my urination.
“Better out than in,” she said through the partition. The fact that she was not embarrassed by her flatulence was impressive. I would have been mortally embarrassed.
“There’s a certain logic to that theory, but not if you’re the one having to breathe in the fumes,” I countered.
She laughed so hard she farted again.
We picked up our supplies, and while she was gassing up the car, I walked Bubbles over to the grassy knoll and let her do her business. Glancing over at Hettie, I saw that she was watching me. She was talking on her cell phone but she was looking at me. I took a few steps farther into the grass to let Bubbles chase a bug, and I peeked over my shoulder. She was watching me and I liked it. I pulled my hair back off of my shoulder so I could see her better. She finished pumping the gas and put the nozzle back in the pump. As she tightened the gas cap in place, she looked at me. I knew she was just doing her duty, keeping an eye on me to keep me safe. But it just seemed like…
Sighing, I realized that I was fooling myself. She was a warrior. She was a loner, and she liked it that way. She was not Meredith.
I picked up Bubbles and walked back to the car. Putting her in the pet carrier in the back seat, I got in on the passenger side and waited for Hettie. She got in and tried to fasten her seatbelt, grimacing in pain. “Let me help you,” I insisted, reaching across for the strap.
“Thanks. I appreciate it,” she replied, smiling like the Cheshire cat.
“What?”
She shrugged. “What, what?”
“Why are you grinning at me like that?” I asked.
“Oh, no reason,” she replied, starting the engine and pulling away from the station, still grinning. “I talked with my Dad, and he says you’re forgiven. Mom told me to be sure the bandage gets changed once a day.”
“Oh, good. I was worried about them,” I said with a smile. “Did you tell them about your wound?”
“Hell, no. I don’t want to worry them unnecessarily.”
“I figured as much.” I was actually relieved that she hadn’t told them.
“Listen, I don’t want you using your credit card right now because it could be traced, so I asked Dad to wire me some money anonymously.”
“Can’t they trace the money that’s wired?” I asked curiously.
“Everything on the web is traceable, but it’s much harder when you use cash, fake your name, and send it via an encrypted Internet website. They email the password and all I have to do is pick up the money using the password, not my ID. We’ll be staying in Bowling Green a couple of days, so I’ll need the extra cash.”
***
The next three hours were the longest three hours of my life. I was tired and irritable because Hettie was testy and cantankerous. I wasn’t sure what had happened to change Hettie’s mood. I thought maybe the pain had gotten worse, so I offered her some Tylenol that I had bought at the store. That was a mistake. She used her bad arm to steer with as I put the tablets in her good hand and gave her a soda to wash them down with.
“Would you like me to drive for a while?” I asked, thinking that would help.
“No. We’re almost there,” she barked, checking the rearview mirror for the thousandth time. She frowned and my heart caught in my throat.
“Are we being followed again?”
“No, it’s that… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“Oh…” I exhaled gratefully. “That’s all right. I think we’re both just tired.”
“You’ve probably gotten less sleep than I have,” she stated. “Every time I woke up, you were there, taking care of me. I want you to know, I really appreciate that.”
“Oh, please. It’s the least I could do after you saved my life.”
“I think you would have done it anyway,” she said, a contemplative look on her face. “In college, you wouldn’t even look at me. Why did you remember me after so many years?”
“Well, it hasn’t been that many years, and besides, Meredith told me that you were a good person, and she wouldn’t say that if it weren’t true.”
“I’m surprised by that,” Hettie replied. “I cussed a blue streak during those tutoring sessions. God, I hated accounting.”
“Meredith’s father expected her to follow in his footsteps, which was banking, but what she secretly wanted to do was law enforcement, like you. She was very close to her father, though, and never pursued her real dream.”
“That’s a shame. She would have been good at it. My dad wanted me to follow in my mom’s footsteps and be a nurse or doctor. Anything but a cop, because it was too dangerous. I, of course, went for the danger. What did your father want you to be?”
I gazed out the window at the trees, not really seeing them as I thought of my father. “My dad used to say that I was a princess,” I said, smiling at the memory.
“And you are, Contessa,” Hettie said. “You are.”
“I miss him…” Tears moistened my eyes as I thought of Mom and Dad. At the cemetery, I had laid down between my parents’ graves and cried. Deep, emotional tears that soaked the ground with my sorrows.
“What were your parents like?”
A simple question that packed so much emotion, love, and regrets into the answer. “My dad was tall, like your dad, and Mom was my height, or I guess I was her height. Anyway, I was their miracle baby. They had been trying to have a child for years and finally, I surprised them. Mom told me that she prayed every night, had sex every Friday, and confessed every Sunday, until I was conceived.”
“You’re Catholic?” Hettie asked.
“Yes… do you, um,
are you a…” It never crossed my mind that she might not believe in God. Now it mattered a great deal.
“I’m a laidback Methodist, once removed from Baptist,” she said with a grin.
“I don’t know what that means.”
She shrugged and glanced at me. “I believe in God, and the Bible as I interpret it, but I don’t go to church.”
I glanced at her curiously. “Interesting. And how do you interpret the Bible?”
“Well, I believe that the Old Testament was meant to show us what was, and the New Testament is to show us what could and will be. Those so-called Christians who use the Old Testament to hate, bully, and belittle people who are different from them, like lesbians, are so far beneath God’s contempt that when the time comes, they will be crying outside the pearly gates, watching as my ass passes through.”
“Oh, I like that analogy,” I exclaimed, clapping my hands together. “Very colorful.”
She chuckled. “Thanks. So, back to your mother’s prayers being answered.”
“Oh, yeah. You see, my parents are decedents of Italian immigrants, hence my name and religion. My great-grandmother was named Contessa, Italian for royalty, although she wasn’t. My great-great-grandparents literally met at Ellis Island as they were being processed into America.”
“Wow, how cool is that?” Hettie said.
“Very cool,” I replied with pride. “They made their way down to New Jersey, and then their children spread out into Pennsylvania, Delaware, and finally Virginia. And I guess, next will be Arkansas.”
“So, if they were Italian, how did your father end up with the surname Yarbrough?”
“His grandmother married an Englishman. It was the scandal of the century.”
“I’ll bet,” Hettie said with a chortle.
*
We pulled into Bowling Green, Kentucky, that evening just as the sun was setting. Hettie stopped at a Walgreens with a Western Union and retrieved her money, while Bubbles and I waited in the car, then we checked into a Holiday Inn.
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