by A. O. Peart
My expression must’ve changed at his words, because he added in a little bit gentler voice, “It’s okay. If we don’t bring any attention to ourselves, nobody should really notice us.”
“Ethan, I need to tell you something,” I said quietly.
He whipped his face back to me.
“My real name isn’t Gloria Glass. The FBI witness protection program changed it.”
“I figured that much.” He visibly relaxed. “So what is your real name?”
“It’s Lisbeth. Lisbeth Anderson.”
Chapter Ten
ETHAN
I thought her real name must have been something else, not Gloria Glass, since she was protected under the FBI program already. But I’ve already got used to calling her Gloria, although I only met her a few hours earlier. Lisbeth was a cool name. I didn’t think I’ve ever met a woman named that.
“So where are you from really?” I asked.
“Florida. Tampa Bay originally. But my family came from Sweden. I don’t remember any of them though. They all died when I was just three years old.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I really was. I couldn’t imagine being all alone in the world, even though my own family drove me crazy most of the time. But my parents, brothers, cousins, Grandma Ruth and everyone else were there for one another, no matter what. That’s how our family has always been—one for all and all for one. I’ve probably taken it for granted more than I’ve ever realized. We all have.
Lisbeth became quiet, staring straight at the road ahead of us. I’ve been stealing little glances at her when she wasn’t looking. She was a gorgeous woman, with high cheekbones and a small, straight nose. She was slim but curvy in all the right places. My eyes kept going to her lips, especially when she licked them. Crap, I was in so much trouble. How could I steer clear of her and be on high alert at the same time? I had to, no matter what. After all, self-control was a big part of both my job and my personality.
I slowed the truck and took the exit on the right. A sign on the side of the freeway indicated some restaurant choices. I wouldn’t opt for a place to sit down and order, since we were kinda on the run. But there was a fast food Mexican joint, which I hoped had a drive through option.
“The grocery store?” Lisbeth said through the mouthful of chips.
“No, we still have a while. But I want to grab something else to eat. We’re both hungry.”
I found the restaurant close to the exit. It didn’t look like much, but maybe the food wouldn’t kill us.
I expected Lisbeth to refuse to eat anything that came from there, but to my surprise she exclaimed excitedly, “Oh, I want a mega burrito, with a lot of shredded lettuce and chicken. Yum!”
A woman who got excited about eating a greasy burrito was not among those I knew. So Lisbeth just scored with me really high. I chuckled to myself.
There wasn’t a drive through. I ran inside, keeping my eye on Lisbeth. I asked her to stay quietly in the truck. The burritos arrived very quickly. I got two extra-large Cokes, bunch of napkins, and a handful of hot sauce packets with the order, all stuffed neatly in two brown paper bags.
Lisbeth straighten out as soon as I approached the truck. She leaned across my seat and opened the driver side door for me. I placed the bags on the seat and then passed one of them to her together with the Coke and a very long straw. She took it swiftly and held my food out of the way, so I could get in. That earned her even more points.
I was impressed once more and started to think that all the women I’ve taken on dates were selfish, since I couldn’t remember just one going out of her way to help out, even with the smallest stuff. It was as if each of them expected to be always waited on and carried for. I did that nevertheless, maybe just to humor myself. It never mattered anyway, because there rarely was a second date. I wasn’t interested in relationships. All I wanted was hot, sweaty sex, and then moving to the next girl.
Lisbeth sank her teeth in the burrito and made a satisfying sound. She looked at me, raised her eyebrows, and, swallowing quickly, said, “Oh, man, this is heaven. So good.” She took a long pull of her Coke and sighed. “I haven’t had a burrito in so long.”
“Glad you’re enjoying it.” I smiled.
“Oh, wait.” She set down her food in a nest of napkins placed between her tights and licked her fingers. She took my burrito from my lap, carefully unraveled the top part of the aluminum foil, and handed it back to me. “Will you be able to eat and drive? If not, we can take turns.”
Would she stop impressing me? I wasn’t used to women like her. “I can handle it.” I took a bite. Lisbeth was right—that burrito sucker was tasty.
Soon after we were done with our food, I took another exit.
“Where are we going this time?” Lisbeth asked.
“To get some groceries.”
I parked close to the front door of the store. The building sat alone in this part of the lot, but there was a Chinese restaurant, a barbershop, and a pawnshop on the opposite site. Before exiting the truck, I quickly scanned the area. There were a few other cars and trucks parked in the lot, some of them by the grocery store, but most by the other buildings.
Lisbeth put her hood on, pulling down on its front to cover her face as much as the fabric would allow it. When I reached for my sweatshirt from the back seat, she was unbuckling and leaned in my direction. We came face to face, too close to ignore. She was just inches from me, her lips parted, her eyes on mine. Her warm breath tickled my mouth. Sudden heat roared inside me, sending waves of desire straight to my groin. I quickly pulled away from her and clicked the button to release my seatbelt.
She turned her head in the other direction, her body tense. Keeping her eyes down, she asked, “Is it okay to open the door and get out? What’s the plan?”
I felt a pang of remorse for being such an asshole to her earlier today. Lisbeth didn’t deserve any of this. Hell, she didn’t ask for my help. I offered it freely, and so I needed to make her feel protected and not uncomfortable or scared of me. That was going to be a real challenge, because I’ve never had to worry about a fragile side of a woman. They came and went, and that was all I’ve always wanted. But with Lisbeth the situation was completely different, and so I had to switch my way of thinking. And my way of acting.
“We will go inside and buy some necessities. There isn’t much at the cabin since the last time I was there. Try not to look at anyone and act natural.”
“Natural? We might have a different understanding of what’s natural.”
“Okay, I get it,” I said. She was right. What the hell did that even mean, natural? “Kind of like a bored teenager, I suppose?”
“I’m past my teenage years, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Oh, I noticed alright. I noticed how deliciously curvy her body was, how mature was her demeanor. “I wasn’t suggesting you’re a teen.” I snorted. We just need to act sort of invisible, blend with the crowd.
“Sure, okay.” She opened the passenger door and got out.
We walked in. Much to my relief, there were many shoppers inside. I noticed the cameras mounted in the corners above the shelves, but as long as Lisbeth kept her head down, we were fine.
I took a cart from the front of the store and pushed it toward the frozen section isle. Soon, the cart was filled with a few boxes of frozen pizza, a small tower of microwave dinners, two tubes of ice cream, three large bags of ice, and a small bag of frozen peas.
“You like peas?” Lisbeth asked.
“Not my first choice.”
“I won’t eat them, in case you got them for me,” she said.
“They work great as an extra icepack for sore muscles or such.”
She looked at me from under her hood. I grinned. I honestly got them for sore muscles, since I sometimes overexerted myself during my daily workouts. But I just remembered what a frozen peas bag was recently used for back in my Portland house—Anne Fisher’s swollen pussy, after an exceptionally wild weekend tog
ether.
Lisbeth shot me a curious look. “Something funny about frozen peas?”
“Let’s get a couple of those large jags of water.” I turned to the next isle, and she followed.
I pushed Anne Fisher out of my mind. It was over between us. I liked my freedom, and there were plenty of beautiful and willing women who felt the same and were happy with serving to my particular sexual taste. I wasn’t interested in marriage, kids, and a little house in the suburbs like Anne was. Even though she made a great submissive and eagerly agreed at first to my “no strings attached” rule, she got clingy after a couple of weeks. She kept texting and calling me multiple times each day, which ended our fun together right away.
Lisbeth and I hurried through the store, loading the cart with a shampoo, soap, laundry detergent, coffee, and food. She insisted on splitting the bill, but I only waived her off. It would be ridiculous to accept any money from her. I doubted she had much, and we could only use cash. We stood in a short line to the register and then moved all the items from the cart and onto the conveyor belt. The cashier woman rang it all through. I paid and took a receipt from her when I heard Lisbeth say in a shaky, scared voice, “You! You’re from there! Are you one of them?”
What the hell? She was pointing at a guy who stood in line behind us. He wore a blood-red shirt with large block letters in white that spelled RU FLORIDA. Below, was an icon that pictured a hand holding a single flame, framed in a thin circle of an olive branch.
The guy’s eyes grew large at Lisbeth’s bizarre accusation. He glanced around as if making sure she was, in fact pointing to him. Yes, she was. Everyone around stopped what they were doing and gaped by turns at her and then at the guy.
“What is it?” I asked her in a low voice. “What the hell are you doing? Who is this?”
“He might be one of them!” she screamed.
“Gloria,” I hissed, using her incognito name. “Stop that. Tell me what’s going on.”
But she backed away, still pointing. This was just weird. Her hunted face looked as if she saw a ghost. I asked again for an explanation but received none. There was a small crowd gathering around us, so I grabbed her elbow and, not too gently, pulled her outside with me. She stumbled but regained her balance and followed me without a complaint. I pushed the cart with one hand, but it was too awkward, so I let go off of Lisbeth and clasped both hands on the cart’s handle.
She followed me to the truck. I told her to go sit inside while I took care of the purchases. I loaded everything inside, packing all the perishables into the two large coolers fastened to the truck’s bed. I hopped in and peeled out of the parking lot without wasting any time.
“What the fuck was that about?” I almost yelled. “What were you thinking? I told you not to talk to people or even look at anyone.”
“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” She was shaking. She seemed scared out of her wits.
I clamped my mouth shut, not wanting to cause her another panic attack. My jaws ached from clenching tightly. I swore under my breath and saw with the corner of my eye that Lisbeth was looking at me. I turned my head to see her face. It was wet from tears. Her chin was shaking, and her breath was coming out ragged and very fast.
“Shit,” I swore again and pulled to the side of the road. Fortunately, the traffic was sparse, so changing the lanes wasn’t an issue. I stopped the truck, leaving the engine running, and put the gear in park. Turning my body toward her, I willed myself to calm down.
She pressed her hand to her mouth, her eyes huge and bright-green from crying. I noticed her nails were bit all the way to the quick, which was a common symptom for anxiety disorder.
I exhaled with force and ran my hand through my hair. “Okay,” I began and then looked away, forcing my raging nerves in check. “What the hell happened in there?”
“I… I…” She was sobbing, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
“Lisbeth, get yourself together. Breathe. Slowly.” I kept my voice steady and calm. We didn’t need another panic attack from her.
I pulled her hand away from her mouth and motioned to her to lean against the seat. I didn’t have to find her pulse to know it was racing. But she was slowly relaxing, keeping those amazing eyes on me all the while.
“That’s it. Keep breathing.” I realized I was squeezing her hand. She was squeezing mine right back, clutching at it with all her mind.
We stayed like this for a few minutes. Lisbeth closed her eyes. Her short, ragged breaths soon turned into long and smooth intakes of air, until she calmed down and relaxed her grip on my fingers. I slid my hand away from hers.
She opened her eyes, and there was so much sadness in them, so much torment. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m a burden.”
I looked at her, feeling one corner of my mouth lifting in a smile. “Not a burden. A challenge maybe.”
“Will you tell me now what exactly happened in there?” I asked as gently as I could muster.
Her hand went back to her mouth, and her eyebrows wrinkled like little caterpillars. I wanted to comfort her, but I had to be careful, not knowing what just happened. I asked again, “Please. Lisbeth, you know I’m here to help. Tell me who that person was. Do you know him?”
She made a small, frightened noise. Her shoulders shook from sobs, but she was slowly calming down. I waited. A few minutes later, she put her hands in her lap and looked at me. Her eyes were red from crying, but she seemed more composed.
“Did you see his shirt?” she started.
“Yes,” I said slowly, unsure where this was going.
“Do you know where it was from?”
“No.”
She looked straight in my eyes and said, “It was the Rothland University—and Ivy League school in Tampa. That’s where those… those…” she was sobbing again.
“Shhh.” I touched her arm. “Breathe.”
“Oh.” Lisbeth shook her head slowly. “They were from Rothland. The guys who attacked Helen and took her life.”
“Lisbeth.” I sat up straight. “Was he one of them? Tell me right away.” If that was one of those assholes, we were going back. I was going back after him. Guys like that belonged only in two places: in prison or six feet underground.
“No, I don’t think so. He looked like a freshman. Those were for sure seniors, much older, bigger, you know—they had large-muscled bodies, like… like football players. The guy there was skinny.”
He was. He looked like a kid to be honest. But that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if he was small or huge. If he was one of them, I wouldn’t think twice before breaking his jaw and then each of his limbs, before calling the cops.
“Are you sure?” I asked, looking sharply at her.
“Positive. I remember each of them, even though I didn’t see all their faces. But their large, muscular bodies... I will never forget…” Her voice shook on the last four words.
There was so much pain in her eyes. I wanted to help, but I wasn’t sure how to without crossing any lines. So I only patted her hand and said, “That shirt was just a nasty coincidence. We are far from Florida here.” Maybe that wasn’t the most brilliant line I could’ve come up with, but it would have to do for now.
Her features relaxed a notch, and she leaned her head back on the headrest, closing her eyes.
“Let’s go now.” I gently squeezed her hand.
She nodded, and said very quietly, “The Rothland U didn’t do anything. They claimed these weren’t their students but only some guys who wore the shirts.”
“What did the FBI and the police do?”
“They had no solid proof. I worked with the sketch artist, but I only saw the face of the actual murderer when he looked up at me. It was dark in that alley. The only light was at the end of it and it shone on his face when he glanced up. So I honestly wouldn’t be able to identify anyone except for that one guy. Him I won’t ever forget.”
“I’m sorry,” I told her. “The investigation is still going on.
Let’s just hope they will get him and the rest of those sons of bitches.”
I put the truck in gear and looked in the side mirror for the upcoming traffic before moving the vehicle off the shoulder.
Chapter Eleven
ETHAN
We drove for the rest of the way in silence. Lisbeth huddled in her seat, with her back to me, turned toward the passenger window. Maybe she was sleeping, or maybe just watching the scenery alongside the road.
I took the exit to Highway 101 South. We were getting close to our destination. I visited the cabin often, whenever I wanted some time for myself, away from the busy city, my demanding job, my loud, ever-present family, and everything else. I’ve never brought any woman there though. This was my man cave—a sort of sanctuary I needed to escape to. And now I wanted this to be an escape for Lisbeth too.
It’s been a while, but she didn’t change her position. I hoped she was asleep, and if so, that would be the blessing for her. She was an emotional mess, which was understandable after all she’s recently gone through. I sympathized, since I had my own demons from the past that still very much hunted me.
There was a certain parallel in what she and I have lived through: Lisbeth witnessed her girlfriend’s brutal rape and murder; I would never forget Najia, the Afghan girl raped and beaten to death. Have our paths crossed for a reason? Were we to help and heal one another? I shook my head, scolding myself for trying to see what wasn’t there.
I turned to NE Devil’s Lake Road, instantly feeling the familiar tranquility envelop me. This place held many happy memories from my childhood. And fishing was always great here.
Devil’s Lake was close to the Pacific Ocean, and so it wasn’t a truly secluded place, but my cabin stood in the less-explored area. The locals kept to themselves for the most part. My family owned four cabins in different places around the Lake, but mine was the most private of them all, because it sat of three lots.