by Skye Warren
“Tell no one,” I say, doing my best stern-elder impression. Even though I’m only one year older than her.
“Okay, Ms. Mysterious. I’ll be there.”
“Are you coming from home? Head down I-32 and exit at—”
“They also have this thing called maps. Like on phones. And—”
“Smart-ass,” I say, but I can’t help but smile. Even in the midst of all this, deep in the heart of a torn up city, she’s a breath of fresh air.
I hang up with a sense of anticipation and dread. Anticipation because I have a lot to do in twenty minutes. I have to sneak out of Ivan’s house, which is almost as hard as sneaking in. Of course I have the advantage of knowing most of his pass codes and Luca’s habits.
And dread because now I have to leave Ivan, for real. Maybe I always knew he would fight me when I told him I’d leave. Maybe I always hoped it would lead to something like last night, where he’d finally touch me. Finally treat me like a woman.
Now I’m leaving forever, and he’s not here to stop me. I know this is for the best. I need to stay one step ahead of the man who’s after me—and more importantly, my presence here will put everyone in danger.
I’m also disobeying Ivan, and deep inside, that feels like the worst sin of all.
* * *
I’m soaking wet by the time I reach Fourth and Lennox. It turns out there is a moat. Who knew?
Okay, it’s more like a drainage ditch, but it accomplished the same thing. Now I’m shivering in wet jeans while I huddle against the brick building. My phone gave up the fight with the water. At least no one will be able to track me with it. I toss it into a gutter before melting back into the shadows.
I’m still in the upscale side of Tanglewood, near where Ivan lives, so I don’t want to be seen. A woman without a car or a man nearby would definitely stand out.
The cherry-red hatchback pulls to a stop at the curb, and I hop inside. “Hey.”
Clara gives me a look that says she’s going to need more of an explanation than that. Fair enough. She deserves some answers, but I’m going to have to be careful. The more she knows, the more likely she is to go digging, asking more questions when I’m gone, getting herself into trouble.
“So, where are we going?” she says, as casual as if we were going to hang out at the mall. And now I’m suddenly depressed that we never got to hang out at the mall. It would have been sweet to do something normal, for her and for me. We both grew up sheltered. We had that in common.
“We’re going to the truck stop down I-32. That’s where you get off this ride.”
She doesn’t seem surprised about that. Just worried. “I’m supposed to leave you in the middle of nowhere?”
“No,” I say patiently. “At a truck stop. That’s somewhere.”
Her eyes flash. “And if you get killed, I’m supposed to be okay with that?”
“I’m not going to get killed.” Not that she would find out if I did. At the very least I’ll vanish before my hypothetical murder takes place. “Anyway, this isn’t…it’s not a game. It’s not a party.”
She knows about my party habits. Well, everyone does. Not to brag, but I’m kind of infamous for it. I think Clara even guessed why I did it for so long. We’re very different, the wild stripper and the quiet artist, but we have certain things in common.
Worry enters her eyes. “If it’s not a game, then what is it?”
“I’m leaving. For good.” And because I know she’ll argue, I add softly, “I have to.”
She opens her mouth and then closes it. She must have figured out that an emotional denial wouldn’t sway me. Smart girl. I glance toward the backseat. Her backpack is half-open, rolled up paper peeking out from the zipper.
“Shit,” I say. “Were you at the studio or some shit?”
She rents space in some kind of studio co-op so she has space for her large sculptures.
“At two o’clock in the morning?” She sounds amused. “They aren’t even open.”
“How the hell would I know?” I sigh. “I’m the worst influence. I shouldn’t have called. You were probably sketching. Or you know, sleeping.”
“Something like that,” she mutters.
I’ve hit a nerve. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she says, obviously lying.
I’m torn between curiosity and a strange protective desire to hide her away from the world. Is this what Ivan feels about me? No wonder he always looks like he has a stick up his ass. It’s maddening. “Clara.”
She snorts. “So you can keep your secrets, secrets which might get you hurt, secrets that mean I won’t ever get to see you again after tonight, but I have to tell you everything I’m thinking.”
I hear the pain in her voice, and my heart squeezes. “I didn’t think you would miss me,” I whisper.
Her hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Well, why not? I thought we were friends. Won’t you miss me?”
It kills me how open she is with her emotions, how free she is with her affection. She grew up in a cold environment and then had to live on the run for months. She should have been hardened by now, like me. “I’m kind of annoying, that’s why,” I say lightly. “I call you up at two in the morning and make you drive around the city.”
“It’s part of your charm,” she says ruefully.
I’ve never called her out in the middle of the night before, but I’m not a chat-over-tea kind of person either. “I will miss you,” I tell my reflection in the car window, unable to face her.
Her hand is warm on my arm. “Will you please tell me what’s wrong? Maybe you don’t have to leave. Maybe there’s some kind of solution to whatever it is. Is it money?”
I shake my head. There’s only a few bucks in my jeans pocket. I have a much larger stash back at my apartment, but I can’t risk going back. Ivan has stationed men all around there. I survived on twenty dollars when I was sixteen years old. I can do it again.
“Is it—” Her voice cracks. “Is it Ivan?”
Clara has always been nervous about him, which is understandable. She’s nervous about all men, which is also understandable considering what happened to her when she was younger.
“It’s not him,” I say, “but you can’t tell him you saw me tonight.”
She gives me an insulted look. “Duh.”
I know she’ll be loyal to me. It’s one of the reasons I called her and not anyone else. Even Lola, who’s probably my best friend, would crack under the pressure once Ivan started questioning her. Besides, I don’t want to cause a rift between her and her fiancé, Blue, whose company manages security at the Grand. But actually no one really knows that Clara and I kept in touch. I’m counting on that. There won’t be any trail for Ivan to follow.
Chapter Thirteen
It’s raining by the time we reach the truck stop and say our goodbyes. Clara doesn’t want to leave me here, but in the end she’s solemn and dry-eyed. The heavy knowledge looks strange on her sweet, almost babyish face. I watch the taillights disappear before I turn my attention to the inventory.
I’m humming “It’s Raining Men” under my breath as I size up each rig and driver. I get a few catcalls, some offers of cash for sex. One is particularly colorful, offering to wash up first.
Charming.
Most of the men here are little more than animals. They’d take what they want from me if given the chance, whether I consented or not. Only the thinnest veneer of manners keeps them from surrounding me right here in the parking lot. They could take me down—a full pack against one weakened gazelle.
Luckily, I have a lot of experience training lions. I’m a fucking ringmaster.
Head high. Don’t show any fear. Walk like you own everything you can see.
I find the one I need near the back, in one of the shittier parking spots. He’s a little young. Definitely horny. And the way he looks at me tells me everything I need to know. He admires me, he wants me. But most of all he looks up to me, the way I look up to Iv
an. This one wouldn’t offer me sixty bucks to suck his dick, clean or otherwise. And he’d never force me. Hell, he’d probably give me all the money from his wallet if I asked him to. He’d beg me to refuse him an orgasm. Perfect.
“Give a girl a ride?” I ask.
He licks his lips, looking from side to side. Nope, no one is standing right next to his rig but him. “Where you heading?”
“Where you going?”
“Gainesville,” he says too quickly. God, he’d be a dream to train. If only…
“Then that’s where I’m heading,” I say with a smile.
He nearly trips over himself to clean the cab of his truck in the minutes before we leave. It’s exactly what I’d expect from him. Fast-food wrappers and porn magazines with women in leather. The industrial-grade lights in the parking lot illuminate his blush as he shoves everything under the seat.
I put my hand on his arm. We need to get out of here sooner rather than later. As in, right freaking now. Ivan will be coming after me when he notices I’m gone. More than that, I’m worried about whoever left those messages at the Grand. I don’t think I’ve been followed here, but it never hurts to be careful.
Most of all, I’m a little nervous about the other truckers who are gathering around us.
“Hey, mister. This is real nice. Thank you for making me comfortable.” I give his arm a little squeeze. “But I wonder if we could get going now?”
“Oh, right!” He looks around at the men who’ve advanced on us, just a few feet away from the truck. They aren’t making a rush for us, and I heard the locks click. But at least one of those men is packing heat, and I really don’t want to test these windows. Apparently my little subbie trucker doesn’t either. He guns the engine, and we speed into the night.
* * *
My chauffer’s name is Charlie, and he’s from Kentucky. He’s driving his uncle’s rig, since his uncle broke his leg playing street hockey. I can’t figure out if that’s a euphemism for something.
I let Charlie ramble and blush and stammer. He’s really a sweetheart. Once we’re ten miles out, he stops for some food and drinks. I slurp on a huge tub of soda and watch him drive.
“So, Charlie.” I draw out his name, infusing it with the kind of sultry sound that earns me double the tips at the Grand. “Do you have a girl back home?”
“N-no,” he says, and I believe him. At least, I believe he doesn’t have the girl. But he wants one.
“What’s her name?”
“Alyssa,” he says, then turns beet red. A-freaking-dorable. “But I’m not—we’re not—”
“It’s okay, Charlie. I understand. Unrequited love is a bitch.” I understand more than I want to. People act like love is a gift, but it’s not. It’s theft. It’s a goddamn tragedy.
Love is losing a vital organ to a man who will never give his in return.
Charlie studies the black expanse, dotted with red and white and yellow. “I figure if I can get my own rig, she might look at me different.”
“Older or younger?” I ask.
“She’s older,” he says. “But I don’t mind.”
“Of course you don’t,” I assure him. He prefers it, actually. “And what does she do for a living?”
If I thought he was red before, now he is an actual tomato. “She’s a…well, she’s a stripper. But she doesn’t, you know. It’s not like that.”
Oh dear. I have a feeling I know exactly what it’s like. Alyssa does her job very well. That’s what it’s like. “Well, I don’t know Alyssa, but I’m absolutely sure that one day you will find the perfect woman for you. One who loves you. One who understands you. One who will tell you exactly what to do to please her.”
His eyes grew wide, a mixture of shock and arousal swirling in his light brown eyes. “You really think so?”
I’m saved by having to reply by the earsplitting whoop of a siren. A second later blue and red lights bounce off the tall columns of rearview mirrors on either side.
“Shit,” Charlie says, fumbling for the blinker. “I wasn’t even speeding.”
I narrow my eyes at the cruiser as we pull over, bouncing on the rough interstate shoulder. “I don’t think they’re here for you.”
“Oh fuck,” Charlie breathes. “Are you in trouble? Should we make a run for it?”
I soften. “Charlie, you’ll make a really amazing boyfriend one day. And to do that, you need to not be dead. So no, don’t make a run for anything. Just sit there and do whatever the cops say.”
We don’t have to wait long. The cop that comes up to the window is familiar. He shines his flashlight inside, taking in both of us. At least he doesn’t flash it in my eyes. “Good evening,” he says in that drawl of his. I really hate that fucking drawl.
“It’s morning,” I say, annoyed. “Aren’t we a little outside your jurisdiction, Officer?”
He just smiles. Creep.
That’s the thing about bribing cops. All the ones who’ll accept bribes are total assholes. “I’m outta here,” I say, blowing a kiss to Charlie. “You go ahead.”
His mouth is open. “But—”
I smile and slam the door against his bewildered expression. It would only be worse for him if he hung around. Officer Asshole bangs the door and tells him to drive away. When he’s back in the flow of traffic, I start walking.
“Hey,” Officer Asshole shouts. “Where are you going?”
I shoot him the finger and keep walking.
Chapter Fourteen
Ivan shows up an hour later. I’m simultaneously annoyed that he took this long and annoyed that he showed up at all. The limo pulls to a stop a few hundred feet ahead of me, leaving me with the awkward choice of walking straight toward him or turning around.
“Let’s get this over with,” I mutter to myself.
Ivan steps out and leans against the car. The walk is longer than it looks, and he watches me the whole time. I watch him right back, taking in his broad shoulders and trim waist. The cut of his suit is the kind only ten thousand dollars can buy, custom designed to contour his powerful body. No doubt the gravel being kicked up by the eight-lane highway would ruin his Italian leather oxfords.
At least the shoulder is wide enough that I can walk in relative safety. Zooming cars create a wall of light and noise. Night blocks us in from the other side, and it forms an intimate hallway for the two of us. The sun is just peeking over the horizon, casting a weirdly romantic sepia glow.
Up close, I can feel the fury emanating from him. That’s okay. I’m angry too.
“How?” I bite out.
His expression is made of marble, his voice pure steel. “You don’t want to do this here.”
I laugh, which is kind of like waving a red flag in front of a bull. But I’m feeling just that reckless at the moment. I’ve left my home of three years with nothing but a few folded bills in my pocket, all so I can be safe. And now I don’t even have that much. “And you know what I want? If you want me to get in that car, you’re going to have to tell me how.”
He’s silent while my mind fills in the blanks. Did he follow me all the way from his house? I don’t think so. I’ve gotten pretty good at evading his security measures—and his men. That’s what he gets for having them tail me all the time. I know how to lose them.
Did Clara give me up? I didn’t think she would, but obviously something went wrong.
“Your phone,” he says between gritted teeth.
I spread my hands. “I don’t have one anymore. It died. I tossed it.”
“Not a tracker,” he says after a minute.
“Ivan…” I know he doesn’t want to give up his secrets. But he doesn’t want to bodily force me into the car either, not with all these witnesses. Not when there’s still a chance I could run away. He doesn’t have any particular desire to run across eight packed lanes, but in my darker moments, I do.
“A tap,” he says.
Surprise and anger and the smallest bit of hurt battle in my chest. “You listen
ed to my conversations?”
“Not all of them.”
In other words, a lot of them. “Fuck you, Ivan. Really just…fuck you. And you wonder why I don’t trust you. So you know Clara picked me up.”
In one fluid motion he grabs my wrist and twists my arm behind my back. The front of my body slams against the car where he’d been leaning. The metal is still warm from his body.
His voice is low by my ear. “Yes, we knew she picked you up. She wouldn’t tell us anything when we found her, but her phone history led us to the truck stop. Every man there remembered the pretty little girl wandering around. For the right price they gave up which truck she was in and which way they were headed.”
Of course they did. The cars whiz by, no one stopping to check on the girl being held against her will. No one wants to fuck with Ivan, even people who don’t know his reputation. It’s in the way he holds himself.
“You’re hurting me,” I whimper.
He twists harder. “Is that enough information for you? Or do you need me to draw you a fucking diagram?”
“You should have let me go.” My voice is muffled against the car, thick from unshed tears. “I didn’t want to be found. I wanted to disappear.”
He pulls me back only enough to push me into the car. I stumble onto the leather seats and curl into a ball. “Congratulations,” he says, his voice toneless and cruel. “You’ve got your wish. You’re going to disappear from the side of the road tonight, and no one will ever find you.”
Chapter Fifteen
Ivan is silent on the ride home, but that silence speaks volumes. I hear what a bad girl I am, how he’ll punish me. I know it won’t be like before—a spanking while I finger myself. That’s way too generous for how he feels right now. It will be something bad.
What do you want? More money? More pain? Should I start using a cane on you?
He asked me that. And I might find out what a cane feels like today. Or worse.
I’m angry too. Angry that he found me, that he’s dragging me back. But it’s hard to hold on to that in the face of my fear. I never really wanted him to hurt me. I already feel torn up inside, flayed with the barbed-wire bonds of love for a man who can never return it. It’s hard to imagine he can make me feel worse than I already do.