by Bella King
The cashier takes the card from my hand and swipes it after keying in the order, then hands it back to me with the receipt. “Fifteen minutes,” he says.
“For the order?” I ask, taken aback.
“No,” he replies. “For your break. You took too long yesterday, so you don’t get the full half-hour today.”
“Says who?” I challenge, placing my hands on my hips. He isn’t my boss or even my supervisor, so I don’t see how he has the authority to shorten my break.
“Says Joe,” he replies. “He told me to tell you.”
Joe is our manager, and although he’s a nice fellow, you don’t want to cross him. If the cashier is lying, then he’ll be neck-deep in trouble, so it’s in my best interest to trust him on this one. Still, I don’t like it, and I roll my eyes at him in response.
“I’m serious,” he says.
“Yeah, I know. Whatever,” I reply dismissively. I’m done talking to him. I just want to take the food to my customer and go. The only problem is that now I won’t have time to go all the way to the shop and back unless someone drives me.
The cashier barks the order back to the cook, who immediately comes forward with a bag full of oily fries and a cup with clear beads of sweet liquid rolling down the sides. He never bothers to clean off the side of the cup after filling it, which results in sticky hands when you drink it. That’s one of my pet peeves.
I take a napkin from the table and wipe off the outside of the cup before taking it in my hand. The cook scoffs at me like I’m doing something ridiculous, but repeatedly bringing messy cups back and forth makes my hands a sticky mess. Combine that with all the dust outside, and they get nasty fast.
“Clock me out,” I say to the cashier as I walk out, not bothering to do it myself. If I only have fifteen minutes, I’m not going to be nice about it.
The sun glares at me, feeling even hotter than it did before. I don’t think that I’ll make it to the store walking, and even if I do, I might die from the heat on the way back. It seems like the day is only growing hotter, even as we pass noon.
As I approach the glossy red Mustang with the customer’s bag of food, I get an idea. It’s a bit out of character for a woman like me, but I have the feeling that the driver won’t say no.
“Here is your order, sir,” I say, smiling at the man as I pass the oil-soaked bag of fries and the drink to him. The engine of his car is rumbling loudly, and I can feel the deep vibrations through my body as I lean on the side.
“Thank you,” he replies, placing them down in the center console.
I hand him his card and receipt next, but I don’t let go of them as he clasps his hand around the paper and plastic. “Hey,” I say, squinting at him in a playful way. “Do you think you could drive me to the store real quick? It’s only a minute away, but they cut my break short, so I can’t walk there. I’m awfully thirsty.”
The man shrugs. “Sure,” he says, then pats the seat beside him. “Hop in.”
That was easy.
I let him have the card and receipt, then I open the door and slide into the clean white leather seat. I feel a little bad about getting the seat dirty with my dusty bottom, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s looking at me curiously like he’s never seen a woman like me before. For all I know, this is his first time in Texas. I figure that I’ll ask him.
“So,” I say, slamming the door shut. “Are you just passing through, or is this your home state?”
He puts the car in drive and presses a foot down on the gas pedal. “I’ve been through a few times, but I don’t usually make many stops while I’m in Texas,” he says.
“Why not?” I ask, curious what he’s doing here.
“It’s too close to my starting point,” he says, “But I was in a hurry to leave today, and I didn’t eat much for breakfast. I figured I’d stop for something quick.”
We are in the center of Texas, so I wonder where his starting point is. Mexico?
“Where are you headed?” I ask.
“I’m not sure,” he says, glancing into his rearview mirror even though there’s nobody else on the road.
“You’re not sure?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Nope,” he says, leaving it at that.
I’m intrigued by this man by more than just his looks. I want to know more about him, but I don’t want to come off as nosey. I decide to start with something small before I start to pry. “My name is Marybeth, by the way,” I say.
“Marybeth. That’s pretty,” he says, but then falls silent.
“Thank you. What’s your name?” I ask. I had hoped that he would be more talkative.
“Devin Miller,” he replies. “Why?” His words are sharp, almost aggressive.
“Well, I figured if you’re doing me a favor, I ought to know who you are,” I reply, trying to keep the tone friendly.
Devin shrugs, as though he can’t be bothered to talk while he drives me to the shop. I can see that his find is somewhere else. His eyes flicker up to the rearview mirror repeatedly as he drives. There’s an edge of nervousness about the way he’s looking at the road behind us.
“Are you worried about the cops?” I ask, feeling playful.
“What?” he exclaims, nearly jumping out of his seat.
“Don’t worry. I’m over eighteen,” I say with a chuckle, waiting for him to relax.
“Oh, right,” he says, settling back down in his seat. “I figured you were.”
“Why are you nervous then?” I ask, cocking my head and looking at his furrowed brow.
“I’m not,” he replies, but he glances back at the rearview mirror once again.
“Sure you aren’t,” I say with a sarcastic tone slipping into my voice.
Devin looks through the front windshield at the cluster of buildings we’re approaching. “Is this where you wanted me to take you?”
I nod. “Yes, and could you take me back too, pretty please? I just have to grab a few things, and I’ll be right out.”
Devin looks into his rearview mirror yet again then glances at me. I smile at him, trying to look convincing enough so that he doesn’t say no. I really don’t want to walk back with how terribly hot it is outside.
“Fine,” he replies. “Just be quick.”
“Don’t worry,” I say as we roll to a stop outside the group of stores. “I’m in a hurry too.”
Chapter Three
When I get outside with an armful of apples and a great big bottle of water, I don’t see Devin. At first, I think that he has abandoned me. “What a jerk,” I mutter to myself, shaking my head. But then, I see the front of his cherry-red Mustang poking out from the side of the building. Is he hiding or something?
I walk over to it, poking my head around the corner to make sure it’s him before I walk up to the car. Yes, it’s him, and he’s drumming his fingers on the steering wheel like he can’t wait to get out of here.
Honestly, I feel the same.
“Alright, Mr. Miller. You can take me back now,” I say as I climb into the car and let the apples roll into my lap.
“That’s a lot of apples,” he notes as he jerks the manual shift into gear with more force than necessary.
I look down at the assortment of apples in my lap and laugh. “Yeah, I suppose it is, but they’re not very filling. I’m just not in the mood for more junk food. I eat it way too much, you know?”
He nods, lifting his drink to his mouth and wrapping his lips around the straw. I can see the bubbles moving up the clear plastic as he sucks. For some reason, I’m thinking about that level of suction on my nipples. I guess I just have a dirty mind today.
The car pulls up to the parking lot exit, and the engine gurgles as Devin looks left and right before turning. Suddenly, he puts his drink down in a hurry, leaning forward in his seat and widening his eyes. He’s looking left, the way that we came.
“What’s up?” I ask, leaning forward to try to get a glimpse at what he’s looking at.
“Fuck,” he hi
sses through clenched teeth.
“What?” I ask again, getting worried.
“Hold tight,” he says, slamming the shifter into drive and spinning the steering wheel.
I haven’t even put my seatbelt on, so I fly to the side, landing with my face in Devin’s lap as he races out onto the road. “What are you doing?” I yelp as I clamber back up to my seat.
“Sorry, Marybeth, but I can’t talk now,” he says over the sound of the roaring engine.
I look behind us, digging my fingernails into the smooth leather on the back of the seat as I look at what Devin is racing away from. There are tow trucks barreling down the road at us fast. I wonder for a moment if Devin is on the run from the police, but they don’t look like cops.
I look back at Devin. His hands are gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles look like they might pop, and his crystal-blue eyes are nearly hidden with how deep his frown is.
“I don’t want any part of this,” I say. “Take me back to work.”
“Too late, sweetheart. I’ll drop you off later,” he replies.
“No, drop me off now, or I’ll call the police,” I demand, pulling my cellphone from my front pocket.
The apples that were on my lap are now rolling all over the floor along with my bottle of water, and Devin shows no sign of slowing down.
“I mean it,” I say, unlocking my phone and beginning to dial 911.
Devin ignores my demands, rolling down his window instead. The billowing air blows through the cabin causing loose hairs to fly from my tight braids, sticking to my face. Before I can press the call button to dial the police, Devin’s hand shoots out and snatches the phone from my hand. In a second, it’s flying out of the window.
I jerk my head around, looking through the back window to see it explodes into bits of glass and plastic as it bounces across the hot asphalt. “What the fuck?” I exclaim, smacking his shoulder as he rolls the window back up.
“Shut up and don’t distract me,” Devin growls, smoothing his disheveled hair as the airflow in the cabin goes back to normal.
“You broke my phone,” I say, still in disbelief as to what was going on.
“I said, shut up,” he growls again, raising his voice over the heightening volume of the engine.
I look back at the trucks behind us. They’re even closer now, and I’m surprised that they can keep up with Devin’s muscle car. He’s pushing eighty now, and they’re still gaining on us. These trucks don’t look like they should be able to break these speeds, but they are, and they’re only getting faster.
“Who’s following us?” I ask, trying not to sound panicked. I don’t know whether Devin or our followers are the bigger threat.
Devin shakes his head. “Stop asking questions.”
“They’re getting closer,” I yell over the engine.
“Fuck,” he exclaims again, pressing the gas pedal all the way to the floor.
The engine is so loud now that I cover my ears over the noise. I look back at the trucks to see them slowly falling behind as he flies at a dangerously high speed down the lonely Texas road.
Devin looks into the rearview again and seems to calm down, slumping his shoulders down into a more comfortable posture. A smile spreads across his face, and he glances at me. “This girl as a lot more power than people think,” he says, patting the dashboard as we zoom down the road.
I don’t know what to say to him. He looks like he enjoys running from these people, as though he has done it before. He probably gets a rush from it, but I’m still confused as to why he is running in the first place.
“Tell me what the hell is going on,” I demand.
“Later,” Devin replies, keeping his foot on the gas.
“Now,” I say, slamming my fist against the dashboard.
“Careful with that. This car is priceless,” he says, pushing my hand away from the dashboard.
“Really?” I say, a spiteful smirk spreading across my lips. “So, this probably isn’t good, is it?” I ask mockingly, digging my nails into the seat between my thighs and scratching the flawless white leather as hard as I can.
Devin’s eyes bulge from their sockets as he tries to push my hands away from the seat while maintaining control of the car. He has to slow down to keep from swerving off the road. “Stop it,” he yells.
“Tell me what’s going on,” I repeat, standing true to my initial demands.
“Jesus Christ, fine,” he says, shaking his head. “Just keep your damn hands to yourself.”
I smile, glad that I’ve gotten my way.
Devin runs his hand through his hair, the tattoos on his arms glistening under a thin layer of sweat. He looks more distressed than I am, even though I’m the one who is being taken captive against my will. “Fuck, you’re a real pest, you know that? I shouldn’t have picked you up in the first place.”
“I’m didn’t ask you to kidnap me, dickhead,” I shoot back.
He chuckles. “I guess I am kidnapping you, aren’t I? I mean, why not? Everything else has gone to hell anyway. I might as well add that to my list of crimes.”
“Are you an outlaw or something?” I ask, scooting away from him and pressing my body against the door.
“Not really,” he says.
“So, the cars following us weren’t the police?”
“No, they belong to the cartel.”
“The cartel?” I ask, my jaw dropping at his reply.
Devin nods. “They’ll cut my body to pieces and leave it in seven different places along the Texas highway if they catch up to me. I don’t even want to think about what they would do to a pretty young woman like you.”
I am starting to feel sick to my stomach as the reality of what I have just gotten into begins to settle in. The cartel? I’m royally fucked. This is how girls like me end up being trafficked.
I don’t even want to eat my lunch now. My apples are still rolling around on the floor, hitting against my brown leather boots. I lean over and grab the bottle of water that I bought off the floor and open it, sucking down a few sips to try to level my mind.
It doesn’t work. My hands are starting shake as Devin takes a turn and brings us down a smaller road. I don’t even know where we’re heading now.
“Why are you running from the cartel?” I ask.
“Reasons,” he says, being completely unhelpful.
“Devin, you better tell me, or I’m going to put a foot through your goddamn windshield,” I say, lifting my leg.
“Hell no,” he says, pressing my thigh down firmly with his large hand. He squeezes it in place on the seat, his touch sending a surge of energy through me. His fingers are digging into my bare skin just below the hem of my shorts.
“I’m not going to tell you more than you need to know,” Devin says.
“Then let me go,” I say, looking down at his hand and waiting for him to remove it from my leg.
He doesn’t. Instead, his grip tightens on me as he speaks. “Do you really want me to dump you out here with the cartel still after us? You’re a lot better off with me than you are with them. That would be if you didn’t die from the heat first,” he explains.
He has a point. I won’t last under the blazing sun for more than thirty minutes, and the cartel would have a feast with me. I’m not going to get out of Devin’s car until we are somewhere that I can hide with plenty of police nearby.
“Okay, so take me back to work and drop me off there,” I say, crossing my arms and pressing my lips together.
Devin laughs, and let’s go of my leg. He pats it and places his hand back on the wheel. “You’re not getting away from me that easily. What’s to say you won’t go to the police and file a report against me?”
I shrug. “That’s not my problem. You’re the one who’s a criminal.”
“The police don’t know I exist. Do you think the cartel goes running to the cops when someone fucks them over? Nah, you’re the only one who can get me into trouble with the law. You just came in
to my life at a bad time,” he says, acting surprisingly casual for someone kidnapping an innocent woman.
“So, you’re not going to let me go?” I ask.
“I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with you yet. Why don’t you eat your lunch while I try to figure this out,” he says, staring hard at the increasingly narrow road ahead.
Chapter Four
If Devin isn’t going to let me go, I’m going to have to think of a way to escape from him. I thought that I would like him when I first saw him, but I’m finding out now that he’s only trouble. I should have known by his bad-boy appearance that he was up to no good, but now I’m trapped with him in a red Mustang, cruising down a country road to an unknown location.
“Are you part of the cartel too?” I ask, taking a bite of my apple and spraying a thin spritz of juice across the dashboard.
Devin smirks and shakes his head. “Do I look like a crook to you?”
“Kind of,” I say, studying his tattooed arms and hands.
“Well, I’m not,” he says, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself more than he’s trying to convince me.
“But you pissed them off,” I point out.
“Yes, and I’m pretty sure that was the stupidest thing I’ve done in my life so far, and I’ve done some pretty stupid things.”
“Like kidnapping me?”
He laughs. “Yeah, like kidnapping you. I think you’re just going to have to ride this one out with me. I’ll drop you somewhere close to Canada, I think.”
I nearly spit out the chunk of apple in my mouth. “Canada?!”
“Yes, I don’t think it’s safe for me in the good old USA anymore. Not since I picked you up, anyway,” he says.
“That’s really far,” I say, looking out the window at our desert surroundings. I hadn’t been far out of Texas before, and the idea of going that far north both excites and frightens me. At least he has plans to let me go free, but I’ll definitely lose my job over this.
“Have you ever been out of Texas?” he asks, glancing at me as I sit with my mouth agape.