by Payge Galvin
Hope didn’t let up. The tires hadn’t blown out, by some miracle, and she screeched into a turn and felt the engine roar to a speed it hadn’t tried to achieve in years, if ever. Elijah was talking, but she couldn’t hear him; her attention was on the wheel shuddering in her hands, and the shimmy of the wheels on the road, and the baleful glare of Skinner’s headlights as he swung out of the entrance to the parking lot in pursuit.
Great, now you’re in a car chase. Good plan. Her conscience was taking on a snarky tone now, which wasn’t at all helpful. You’re not a car chase kind of girl, Hope. Do you really think you’re up to this?
Elijah was still shouting at her, and now that the surge of adrenaline was starting to fade and reality set in, she could hear him. “Hope! Hope, you’re going the wrong way, turn right! Head for the freeway!”
He was right. She was instinctively heading back toward the university campus, where there would be no safety, and no cover, and it would be dangerous to be conducting a high speed chase. She took the next right, barely backing off her speed, and saw that the black sedan was gaining on her. “He’s faster than we are!”
“No shit.” Elijah tried to turn to look, but winced and faced forward. He put on his seatbelt, struggling to fasten it. “Just keep pushing it as fast as you can. He’s not going to want the cops on his ass. He’s armed.”
And I’ve got a hundred thousand in drug money, she thought, but didn’t say. “Where do I go?”
“The freeway’s mostly trucks this time of night. Get some of them in his way, and take an off ramp while his vision’s blocked.”
She risked a quick glance at him, though the street was flashing past at frightening speed. “Are you okay?”
“Peachy.” He took his hand away from his side and looked down. There was a rip in his shirt, and the fabric was soaked with blood. “It looks worse than it is.”
“Oh God … were you shot?”
“No. He knocked me down and I got cut on some glass. It’s superficial. It just needs some stitches. Look, I don’t want to go to the hospital. It’s not that bad.” He grimaced and put his head back against the seat.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about leaving your friend.”
He sighed. “Yeah, she was just scared out of her mind. I don’t blame her, but I hate leaving her behind. She needs help, Hope. She needs it bad.”
The freeway entrance was hurtling up fast, and she took it, risking a glance in the rear view mirror as she did. They’d caught a lucky break; a lumbering eighteen-wheeler had swung in behind them and was grinding its way up the ramp while they sped on like a jackrabbit… and Skinner’s black sedan was caught behind the beast. Hope pressed the gas all the way down, coaxing the last bit of speed out of the old engine, and zoomed and weaved between the rolling buildings of trucks. When she was sure she couldn’t see Skinner, and he couldn’t see her, she hit the off ramp and took some fast, blind turns into a residential street, where she slowed her speed and pulled in at the curb to douse her lights.
They waited tensely for a few minutes, but Skinner didn’t appear. The most exciting thing was the appearance of a cat, which strolled serenely across the road in front of them.
Hope let out a shaking breath. “I think we’ve lost him.”
“I think so too.” Elijah’s voice had gone quiet, as if he was afraid to wake people in the houses around them. “Where did you learn to drive like that?”
“I didn’t.” She felt a wild impulse to laugh, but knew if she did it would creep out of control, and she was afraid she’d sound as crazy as she felt. “So … what do we do? Maybe we should call the cops. If you’ve got bruises and cuts, they can’t ignore what you have to say about how badly they treat you.”
But Elijah was already shaking his head. “Solomon is an old hand at this. He’ll tell them his usual bullshit about how I got drunk and out of control and got in a fight with some stranger, and the others will back him up because they’re all scared to death. By the time the cops really start looking into it, he’ll have packed up and rolled on. He’s never been arrested. Probably never will be.”
“But Skinner—he kicked in my door! He was seen.”
“Skinner knows how to disappear; he’ll be on his way out of town before they start looking for him. Solomon will be packing up the others and driving on tonight, cutting his losses. Like I said, they move on.”
“So …” She hesitated. Outside, the wind whispered and tossed a tumbleweed around on the road. “You’re free?”
“Free.” He echoed it as if he didn’t understand the word, but then he repeated it, heavy with some kind of emotion she couldn’t read. “Free. Yeah. I guess. Wish I knew what that meant.” She couldn’t explain it for him, because she didn’t know herself. The silence stretched, and then he took in a deep breath. “Look, I hate to beg, but I need to get cleaned up. I don’t have any cash. If you could pay for a room for me for the night, that’s all I’ll ask. You can go back to your normal life and forget all about this.”
“I don’t think I have a normal life anymore,” Hope said. “I was trying to pretend I did, but … I can’t do it. I can’t stay here. I need to leave and find something else—something worth doing. Worth being.” She waited another silent moment. The cat had hopped up on another parked car and was washing its face, not a care in the world. “I think I know a place we can stay tonight.”
She started the car and pulled out, cruising slow and steady into the dark.
Chapter 4
Renting a hotel room proved to be easy; Hope supposed that paying cash was something cheating spouses often did, to avoid the credit card trails. The clerk didn’t seem at all surprised by the bills she slid over the counter to him. She’d chosen a solid mid-priced chain, one that provided some small measure of protection, because if Skinner and Solomon hadn’t sensibly headed out of town, they would have to come in through the lobby to access the rooms, and there were working security cameras in play as well as people on duty at the desk.
Getting Elijah upstairs was more of a problem, because she needed something to cover up the blood on his shirt, at the very least, not to mention first aid supplies. The gift shop was closed, so Hope got the keys and headed back to the car. When she started it up, Elijah looked concerned. “Something wrong?”
“No,” she said. “But I can’t have you trailing blood through the lobby, can I? We’re making a quick stop.”
The stop was at a convenience store, where she bought a cheap black jacket with the ASU Rio Verde logo on it, bandages, antibiotic cream, disinfectant, latex gloves and a sewing kit, all of which came in a sturdy paper bag. Elijah accepted the jacket, and once it was on and zipped, the blood wasn’t visible at all.
Then it was just a brisk, somewhat tense walk into the hotel to the elevators, a silent ride, and a quick key-card maneuver to get them both into the room. Hope dumped her backpack in the nearest chair, put the bag of supplies on the bedside table, and said, “You’d better go sit down.”
He did, and it was a kind of controlled collapse. His face looked pale, and his hands seemed clumsy on the zipper of the windbreaker. She helped him with it, and then unbuttoned his shirt beneath.
He laughed, which surprised her, and she looked up into his face. His eyes were steady on hers. “This is not how I expected to get undressed with you,” he said. “Thanks, Hope.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I’m not a very good seamstress.” She also wasn’t very good with blood, and the thought of sewing up an open wound made her throat clench hard, but she focused on the mechanical things—setting out the bandages, the antiseptic, breaking out the needle and thread and getting that ready. She washed her hands and used the disinfectant on them, slipped on the gloves, and then went back to join him.
E.J. had opened the minibar and found a couple of pint-sized tequilas. He cracked the seal on the first and took a big gulp, then held it out to her. She shook her head. He shrugged and drained it, which was good, because he missed her wince when
she moved his shirt out of the way and saw the cut on his side. The glass had sliced through layers of skin and fat, though not into muscle. “Um … this is going to hurt,” she said, which was probably unnecessary. Elijah just nodded. The hand gripping the empty mini-bottle had white knuckles. “I have to put some disinfectant on it now.”
She did, and he made muffled sounds that raised the hair on the back of her neck; her hands started to shake, and when she picked up the needle it seemed flimsy and very small for the task she was asking it to do. She closed her eyes for a second and sent a prayer up for the strength and steadiness to do what needed to be done.
Whether it was God answering, or her own determination, the world seemed calmer when she opened her eyes again. As before, everything had come into sharp, perfect focus, and she pinched the edges of the wound together and punched the needle through in a quick, accurate move. She felt him tense against the need to pull away, and take another drink, but she was working now, fast, pulling the thread through and tightening, making another stitch, and another, and another. She’d learned how to do proper stitches from a medical textbook, when she’d decided to go pre-med; she’d practiced it over and over again until she could make them even and tight. Funny that it was paying off now.
“So,” she said. “About the girl, Avita … that’s not your …”
“Baby? Hell no. It’s not like that. I like her, that’s all. And I feel sorry for her.”
“Okay.” She stopped to mop blood, but then Elijah silently took the gauze and blotted for her so she could keep going. Six stitches. Ten. Twelve … and fourteen.
Done.
She carefully tied off the threads and looked at her handiwork. It looked amazingly even and neat, and the bleeding had slowed to a trickle. She took the gauze and cleaned it up, then applied the cream antibiotics on top before she put on the clean gauze pads. “Hold this,” she told him, as she unrolled the bandages and began to wrap them around his body. That meant she got close … pressed against his chest as she passed the bandage behind his back. He felt chilled, and she tried not to notice the clean, strong shape of his body, the fluttering tension of his abdominals when her fingers brushed over them.
She failed at that, of course.
When she finally fastened the bandaging and sat back, Elijah took another hit of tequila from the second mini, then let out a long breath of what seemed like relief. He looked well relaxed now, at least. Maybe just a little drunk. “You’re really good at this,” he said.
“It’s my first time.” A blush hit her cheeks hard, and she stumbled to correct what she’d just blurted out. “I mean, stitching up a cut like that.” He just gave her a slow, warm smile, which made her feel even more flustered. “You should … lie down. You’re shivering. It’s probably a little bit of shock.”
He nodded and slipped his shirt the rest of the way off, then stood up to unfasten his pants. She started to protest, but the truth was that she couldn’t resist the chance to take a look. She’d seen a man in underwear before, of course, but a lifetime of moral standards and light make-outs in high school hadn’t exactly prepared her for this sudden, revealing intimacy. She watched his fingers sliding the button out of the way, then taking hold of the stiff metal of the zipper pull. She seemed to feel every single notch as it slid down, revealing dark fabric beneath, all the way down to the seam at the bottom. And then Elijah’s hands pushed the waistband, and the pants slid down in a rush to pool around his feet.
Hope leaned back against the wall, well aware she was staring, and unable to stop herself. He had great legs … strong, beautiful legs. Muscular thighs. The boxer briefs provided cover but not discretion, and she found herself short of breath looking at him. Looking at the unmistakable outline of what was unquestionably his erection. She didn’t have much to judge by, but it seemed impressive.
Elijah didn’t seem to care that she saw. He sat down on the bed and kicked off his shoes, peeled off his socks, and slipped under the sheets without a word. Then he sat up, winced, and took the last drink from the small bottle.
He looked at her.
“Are you planning to get some sleep?” he asked her. She nodded, unable to form words for what was in her mind, and because he was still watching her, she instinctively turned her back to start unbuttoning her shirt.
Then she took a deep breath and swung around again to face him as she slipped the buttons. The air bit at her skin, and she shivered, although she wasn’t feeling at all chilled, really—not deep within. She avoided his eyes as she slipped the shirt off. Her bones were trembling under her skin, and she was terrified and thrilled at the same time.
Hope very clearly heard her mother’s voice whisper, in that sad tone she so dreaded, oh, honey, you’re not making a very good choice.
Then her shirt floated down to the carpet, and her conscience fell away along with it. Hope’s fingers felt numb as she undid the skirt and let it fall as well. She was down to a lace white bra and panties, and she’d never been so glad that she’d worn something today that she actually thought flattered her figure.
Elijah’s face was unreadable. He didn’t say a word. He only folded back the covers next to him.
“I’m not—I’m not like this,” Hope said, as she sat down on the bed next to him. “You understand?”
He understood that she didn’t need an answer, at least. She slipped under the covers and immediately felt the hot, damp heat of his body. Instant summer, vaporizing the lingering chill inside her. She instinctively moved closer to it, rejecting the cold air outside the sheets, and took in a deep breath. She hadn’t noticed the smell of him before, not this closely or intensely, and it teased things inside that she hadn’t known could respond—and there was no reason she should like that smell, she thought. It was pure adrenaline and sweat: a sharp, dark scent that under normal circumstances she shouldn’t have even found attractive.
The electric tingle of anticipation before he touched her seemed to last forever.
It wasn’t a kiss, though somehow she’d naively expected that; instead, he put a white-hot palm on the curve of her bare shoulder, and glided it down the line of her arm, made a turn at the elbow, and it felt as if his touch coated her skin in glimmering sunlight. She didn’t move. She didn’t refuse. She didn’t accept, either. Something in her was too scared, too indecisive, to make that leap.
Elijah must have seen that. He let out a slow sigh, and turned on his back to put his hands under his head. She had a horrified feeling that he was angry with her, and in silent apology, she snuggled up closer and put her head on his shoulder.
He was completely still for a few seconds, and then he moved his right arm to lay it warm across her back. His fingers touched, then caressed the hollow of her waist. “So,” he said, still not looking at her. “This is nice.”
“Mmmm,” she agreed. It was. It was intensely, intimately nice in a way she’d never imagined. She felt … safe. And at the same time, dangerously out of control.
“You’re going to sleep in that bra?”
She felt a flush creep over her, burning in her cheeks. She didn’t move. “Maybe.”
“I’m only asking because it seems uncomfortable.”
It was. She’d never kept one on through an entire night before, and it was already feeling more like a cage than a modesty cover. “I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” she said. “I mean …”
“Trust me, you’re not going to make me any more uncomfortable than I already am.”
“I’m just thinking of you. You have … injuries.”
“It was a cut,” he said. “And you stitched it up.”
“I just don’t want you to do anything that would … break the stitches.”
“You’re killing me, girl.”
“I’m sorry. You asked me if I was planning to get some sleep. I said I was. I haven’t lied to you.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “I’m not blaming you. I’m just saying that having you mostly naked in my bed
isn’t the easiest way to go to sleep. And having the bra on or off isn’t going to change much about that.”
Hope raised her head to look at him. Straight on, without flinching. “Elijah, I met you today, and two days ago I did things … let’s just say, I did things that I’m not proud of. So I need some time to process things. I told you, I’m not like this. I’m not someone who picks up strangers and has car chases and checks into hotels with men I barely know.”
“Did those things you’re not proud of have anything to do with that backpack of cash?”
She collapsed back against him. The warmth of his skin against hers silenced something inside her that she hadn’t known was screaming. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she felt truly, deeply okay.
“I just wanted to be somewhere quiet,” she said. “It was a bad night, and I just wanted peace. So I went—somewhere I like to go. It should have been safe, but there was this man acting weird there, and then he got crazy and violent, and then he was … dead.”
She felt Elijah’s muscles tighten under his skin. “You mean you killed him?”
“No! No, of course I didn’t. But … I helped cover up for the person who did. The man was violent, I told you; it was self defense. And there was all this money … drug money. We all just—took the money and agreed to never look back.”
“All? How many of you were there?”
She just shook her head at that. She wanted to tell him everything, God help her, she wanted to blurt out every single detail, but she’d made promises.
“What happened to the dead guy?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head, feeling her hair drag on his skin. “It was chaos, honestly. Someone else said they’d take care of it, and all I had to do was take the money and go and never look back … but I’ve been so scared. I didn’t know what to do. So I just tried to keep moving the same direction I was in, but it feels so … wrong. Like I’m a different person now.”