I don’t dare move, except to sneak a glance at Rich every once in a while. Every time I do, he seems paler. In spite of everything he’s done, I’m worried about him. The wound in his leg has stopped bleeding, but I can tell by his face that it still pains him. I’m half-afraid he might pass out and veer into the oncoming lane.
He proves resilient, though. Maybe I should expect that of him by now. For better or for worse, I am stuck with him for the foreseeable future.
Finally, he takes an exit off the highway and pulls up to a ramshackle motel on an empty street. Half the letters in the neon “VACANT” sign are dark. The rest flicker on and off like dying fireflies.
Rich doesn’t park out front. Instead, he turns off onto a gravel road and stops his truck out back. He turns the engine off. “We’re here.”
I swallow hard. Rich’s eyes are bloodshot. His face is ghostly-pale. He looks as if he hasn’t slept for a week. “Okay,” I say softly.
He grunts, and staggers out of the cabin. I run around to catch him. He mutters a low thanks, then points to a flight of stairs. I help him all the way up. On the third floor, he stops in front of a green door and unlocks it with a key. He pushes off me to step inside. I follow him.
The room is a little bigger than the first motel where we stayed. There’s one queen bed, a brown sofa, and a kitchenette to the side. A balcony overlooking the front road is directly in front of me. The sliding door is open, and a draft of chilly night air blows through the room. I close the door behind me to cut it off.
Rich heads to the kitchen counter. I notice an open bottle of whiskey there, along with a half-filled shot glass. Rich takes the shot, pours more whiskey to the rim, and downs it. He motions at me with the bottle. “You want some?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Suit yourself.” Rich shrugs and pours a third shot. He dips his head back to swallow it whole, setting the glass on the counter with a loud thud. Then he pushes away, clutching at his leg, and painfully limps to the sofa. He collapses and closes his eyes.
Carefully, I pick my way to him. I’m still wary. Instead of sitting beside him, I perch on the edge of the bed. I wait for him to speak.
A good ten minutes pass without either of us saying anything.
I open my mouth… and close it again. Being here with him goes against every safety instinct in my body. Rich had sold me out. He’d drugged me and given me up to Tam and Victor. I still don’t know why.
But, he’d also came back for me. He’d fought Victor for me, too. Rich had flown across the room right when I thought Victor was going to get me. He did it despite his bad leg. He’d tackled the thug to the ground, even though Victor had a knife, even though Victor was stronger, just to save me. It could have all ended horribly for him.
Despite everything he has done to me, I owe him. Sure, maybe I wouldn’t be in this situation were it not for him, but he had risked his life for me. He’d done it right before my eyes. For that, I could show him a little gratitude.
I have to stay cautious, though. There are so many unanswered questions in my mind. Where did Rich learn to fight? Who did Tam and Victor think I was? Perhaps most important of all: Why did Rich come back for me?
I glance at the car keys Rich tossed aside on the kitchen table. It would be easy for me to grab them and make a run for it right now. He’d never catch me—not with his leg. If I was quiet, I could be in his truck before he even realizes I am gone. I know there’s enough gas in the tank to get me to the nearest city center. From there, it would be a short distance to the police station. If I told them everything that had happened, they would help me.
Leaving now is what any sane person would do. It is what I should do. I’d be free of Rich and all his problems. I start to push myself up…
And sit back down. Something compels me to stay. I can’t just leave without getting answers. I can’t just leave without understanding what is going on. I thought I understood things, back before the gas station. It turned out I hadn’t had the slightest clue.
Most of all, I can’t leave without getting an explanation from Rich about what he had done.
His eyes are still closed. His chest rises and falls with deep, heavy breaths. “…Rich?” I say softly.
After a moment, he opens one eye to peer at me. His face screws up. “God. You’re still here?”
“Of course I’m here,” I frown. “Where else would I be?”
Rich groans and rubs both eyes with the palms of his hands. “Can’t you take a hint?” He motions blindly at the keys on the table. “I left them there for a reason, you know.”
“I thought about it,” I admit. He cuts me off with a cruel laugh.
“You thought about it? Penny, please tell me, what is there to think about?” His eyes shoot open, and he glares at me. “Any person with half a brain would be fifty miles away if they had ‘thought about it.’ What are you still doing here?”
I never expected it, but his words sting. “You… want me to go?”
Rich shoots off the couch like a rocket. “Yes, I want you to go!” He staggers over to the table, picks his car keys up, and dangles them in the air between the two of us. “Here!” he taunts. “Maybe if I spell it out for you: I. Want. You. To. LEAVE!” He slams the keys down on the table in disgust, then limps to the kitchenette. He takes a shot straight from the bottle.
I stare at him as he gulps down the spirit. He slams the bottle back onto the counter. His eyes find mine.
“Well?” he demands. “What are you doing? Go, Penny! Leave!” He sniffs, then takes another generous swig. He sets the bottle down, steps back, and takes a moment to compose himself. When he speaks again, his voice is low. Dangerous. “If it’s permission you need, Penelope, you have it,” he sneers. “Take my Ford and drive away. Go to the cops. Go back home. Go wherever the fuck you need to go. Go, and get away from me!”
“Rich, I—”
“GODAMMIT!” He startles me by picking up the shot glass and hurling it at the door. It shatters in hundreds of sharp pieces. “That way, Penny!” he screams. “That’s the way out. That’s the way you want to go. That—” his voice becomes a roar, “—is the way AWAY FROM ME!”
I don’t dare move. I’ve never seen Rich like this. It scares me.
Sure, I had seen his temper flare before. But never this bad. His eyes burn like embers in his skull. An angry vein pulses along his neck. I know he’s not in the right state of mind. He’s exhausted. He’s been drinking, and he’s lost a lot of blood. I have no idea what he is capable of at this point.
Neither do I know what makes me choose my next words. “I don’t want to go.”
“What?” Rich’s voice cracks through the air like a whip. He takes a menacing step toward me. I shy back. “What did you say?” he seethes.
I swallow, but meet his glare. I will not let him see I’m afraid. “I said, I don’t want to go. I don’t want to take your truck. I don’t. I don’t.”
I expect another outburst of anger. I expect him to yell again. I expect him to demand for me to get the fuck out of his sight. Any of those things would make more sense than what he does next.
He throws his head back and laughs. His whole body shakes as he does it. He tilts his head back and raises both arms in the air. “Mother of God,” he says. “Why?”
The question throws me for a loop. “Why?” I repeat. “I don’t know why, Rich.” I make my voice as calm and soothing as I can. “You got me out of that bar. You might have put me in the situation in the first place, but you came back and rescued me. You risked your life doing so. You probably saved mine when you tackled Victor to the ground. That counts for something.” I pause to take a breath, choosing my next words carefully. “I don’t know why you did any of it, Rich. But I know you’re not a bad person.”
“You’re wrong,” he says. “What I did to you at the gas station—”
“Was unforgivable,” I pick up. “And my staying is not the same thing as forgiving you. But I can still
be grateful for what you did after. Now, I don’t know half of what’s going on. Hell, I don’t even know a tenth! But, I know that you do. I’m not going to leave until you tell me. If you don’t, I’m going to work hard to piece it together myself.”
I pause to catch my breath. “A person can’t just go through what I did and simply forget about it. I need answers, Rich—whether you want to give them to me or not. So? What’ll it be? Will you tell me?” I hesitate, and then add in a quieter voice, “Because maybe then, I can help you.”
Rich stares at me like he’s never seen me before the entire time I speak. His mouth works for a few moments, but no words come out. Finally, he just shakes his head. “You’re crazy,” he says. “You are absolutely, bat-shit crazy, you know that?” He leans over the table, picks up the keys, and examines them. “For any other person, these would represent the path to freedom.” He lobs them into the air, toward me. They make a high arc so I have plenty of time to react. I catch them, then simply set them down on the bed.
Rich shakes his head again. “But not for you. Why, Penny? Why do you want to stay?”
“I told you why.”
“No. You gave me an explanation you want me to believe. Something plausible you think might make sense. It sounds good in theory, sure, but I know it’s not the half of it. Not by a long shot. So, Penny… why?”
I give a nervous laugh. I don’t like how easily he’d seen through me. “I don’t really know why,” I admit. “It’s just… something I feel. Leaving now isn’t the right thing to do.”
Rich grunts. “Fair enough. But I warn you: If you stick around, I can’t guarantee your safety.”
“I think we’re well past that point, anyway,” I comment dryly.
Rich snickers. “Right. But if you stay, you have to know we’re both going to be in danger. Real danger. After Tam sees what we did to Victor, it’ll become personal. Both of us are going to be wanted. Hunted. We’re going to have to hide—”
“Hold on. You still haven’t explained anything. Who are Tam and Victor? How do they relate to you? Are they the same men who broke into your apartment? And what on earth did they want with me?” A new thought occurs. “Victor called me your sister. Twice. Is that who they think I am?”
Rich exhales audibly. “Listen, Penny, that’s a long story. If you’re really going to stay, I can tell you what I know in the morning.” He gives a sly look. “The truth this time. None of the half-baked lies from before.”
“Of course I’m going to stay. I told you so, didn’t I?”
Rich shrugs. “I expect you might change your mind through the night. You know where the keys are, if you do.” He smiles weakly. “I won’t hold it against you if I wake up to find you gone.”
I take the keys, walk over to Rich, and place them firmly in his hand. “Keep them,” I say. “I’m not going to change my mind.”
--
Despite Rich’s insistence that we try to get some sleep, I think both of us are too amped up for any real rest. He gave me the entire bed, while he took the couch. It was a strange, gentlemanly gesture. But after going through the hell that was today, I don’t think either of us is ready to bring our undefined relationship into the mix.
I toss and turn for what seems like hours. When I finally give up and open my eyes, I see that only thirty minutes have passed. I look at the sofa. Rich isn’t there. That’s when I hear the clacking sound of the vertical blinds swaying in the breeze. My eyes move to the balcony door. It’s slightly ajar.
I walk up to it and look outside. I find Rich sitting on the floor, his feet dangling over the ledge. That whiskey bottle is at his side.
“Hey,” I say softly as I open the door. “Mind if I join you?”
Rich nods without looking back. “Sure.”
I settle down beside him—not too close, but not far away, either. “What are you doing out here?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” Rich picks the bottle up and cradles it in his lap. “You?”
“Same.” I look forward. A lonely road runs past the empty parking lot out front. Thick evergreens line the other side of the street. It’s impossible to see past them. The night swallows up everything else. Right now, it feels like Rich and I are the only people left on earth. “Where are we?”
Rich gives a sour chuckle. “You didn’t see the signs on the drive?”
I shake my head.
“We’re somewhere by Baker City. You heard of it?”
“No.”
“Me neither.” He looks at me and smiles. “That bodes well for our escape.”
My hands feel empty, so I run a finger up and down metal railing. “Rich? Can I ask you something?”
“Hmm?”
“Why me?”
He brings the bottle to his lips and tips it back. He takes a long time to answer. “It’s like this, Penny,” he begins.
That is the moment I notice that his leg is bleeding again.
“Rich,” I gasp, interrupting him. “Look!”
He turns to see where my attention is directed, and curses. “Shit.”
“You don’t feel that?” I ask, aghast.
Rich brings the bottle close to my face. “Alcohol’s a great inhibitor.”
“Is that why you’re drinking?” I place my hand on his thigh before he can answer. He grimaces at my touch. “Oh, Rich, this is bad. The sleeve is soaked right through.”
“You’re not doing me any favors poking at it,” he says, pushing my hand away.
I square my shoulders to him. “Take off your pants.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Take. Off. Your. Pants.” The exasperation is clear in my voice. “If your damn man pride prevents you from going to the hospital, the least we can do is clean and bandage the wound.”
“I’m fine,” Rich defends, turning away. “And if you haven’t noticed, we don’t exactly have the materials needed for—ah, ah, AHH!” Rich spins around and glares at me. “Why did you do that?”
I remove the fingers I used to put pressure on his leg. “To prove a point. You’re not fine. What will you do if this gets infected? Do you want your whole leg amputated?” I toss my head to clear the hair from my eyes. “Now, do as I say! Take off your pants.” I give him a wicked smile. “If I remember correctly, you had no trouble with that request a few nights ago.”
Rich grumbles and stands up, muttering the whole time. I pretend not to hear his remarks. He unwraps the leather strip from Victor’s jacket, then yanks his pants down.
At least this time, he’s wearing boxers, I note to myself as I open the door. “Come inside. There’s more light to see. Do you need help walking?”
“I got it,” he tells me, leaning on the window frame to shuffle in. He isn’t putting any weight on his injured leg. When I put my arm around his waist, he doesn’t push me away.
I help him to the couch and let him sit, then hurry to switch on the light. When I turn back, an inadvertent gasp escapes my throat.
“That bad, huh?” Rich quips. “Don’t tell me you’re squeamish at the sight of a little blood.”
Ignoring him, I rush over and go down on my knees in front of his wounded leg. The cut isn’t deep, but it’s long, running nearly all the way from his hip to his knee. Definitely more than “a little knick.”
“Damn all men and their macho pride,” I mutter as I hurry outside to grab the whiskey bottle. I run back to the bathroom to get a clean towel. “Here,” I say, shoving both items at Rich. “Use that to clean it.” Something else occurs to me, and I turn back to pull the cover from the bed. “And sit on this so you don’t stain the entire sofa.”
Rich frowns and lifts up his leg. “It’s a little bit late for that.”
He’s right. “Fine,” I concede. “But start cleaning the wound. I don’t want it to—”
“Penny.” He interrupts my by lifting up his hands. “I’m fine. Seriously. I don’t need you to take care of me. I know it might look bad, but I’ve been in more than a few fights bef
ore. I’ve gotten scuffed up worse than this. You’re just overreacting because there’s a lot of blood. I know how girls are.”
“Oh, you know how girls are, do you?” I demand, stalking up to him. I snatch the bottle and towel from his hands.
“No, don’t…” Rich tries to protest as I pour the whiskey on the cloth. “Damn it! Do you know how much that cost me?”
“Sit still, and don’t fidget,” I tell him in my most commanding tone. I start dabbing the wet towel around the cut. Even though I pretend to be irritated with him, I take great care to clean the wound gently. Rich stiffens at first, then relaxes when he sees I’m not trying to hurt him. Still, every once in a while, I catch a tender spot, causing him to suck air sharply through gritted teeth.
I clean the blood away with quiet efficiency. Victor’s knife cleaved Rich’s skin right in two, but thankfully did not go deep into the muscle. I pause to retrieve another towel, then hold it tight against the parts that start bleeding again.
Rich watches me the entire time without saying a thing. I’m so focused on what I’m doing that I’m surprised when he reaches over and tucks an errant strand of hair behind my ear. “Man pride,” he says softly. “I like that.”
I sniff. I don’t meet his eyes so I can hide my smile.
When I’m done, I stand up and shove both towels into his hands. “There. Now, if it starts bleeding, use those to stem the flow.” I stop, shake my head, and run to the bathroom to get a couple of fresh ones. I give those to him instead. “Use the clean ones,” I correct. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” he calls out.
“We can’t just leave you like that. I need bandages, real antiseptic, probably some pain killers.” I look around the room. “Where did you put those keys?”
“Oh.” Rich tilts his head in the direction of the open balcony. “They’re in my jeans. Front right pocket.”
“Right.” I nod, and go out to get them. When I return, Rich seems strangely melancholy.
“You know,” he says quietly, “I don’t really expect you to come back.”
“What?” I turn on him, temper flaring—
Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set) Page 194