Runaway

by Susan Sheehey

  The two men started throwing punches, blocking each other’s fists with equal force. Huerta landed several vicious right hooks to Reed’s obliques. He cringed away, protecting his right side. Every punch he threw barely affected his opponent, and his strength waned, while the enemy seemed to gain power with each swing. He launched a jab with his left hand.

  Diego blocked it easily and countered with an uppercut to his jaw.

  The room tilted in an agonizing spin, and everything darkened. Flickerings of bright light circled in front of him as he threw his arms out to catch his fall. He stared up at the ceiling as it continued to spin, and his head exploded in pain.

  A vision of Skye’s angelic face blurred in and out of focus, only to keep morphing into Huerta’s vicious sneer standing over him.

  Intense pressure closed off his throat, and Reed gasped. But no air filled his lungs. He clawed at his throat, only to feel knobby fingers gripping tightly. Squeezing the life from him.

  “You’re as useless as your partner, you DEA scum.”

  Reed bucked his hips, trying to throw the man’s balance forward so he could get free. But the vice grip only tightened more. He choked and gagged. Tearing at the hands at his neck to pry them off.

  He had to protect Skye.

  Skye.

  The room tunneled into a tiny speck of light at the end.

  After all this, he couldn’t help anyone. Not even himself.

  With a takeout bag in one hand and a tray of two steaming coffees in the other, Skye didn’t think twice about the door sitting slightly open when she returned to the motel. Reed knew she was coming back and was just being thoughtful.

  She wedged the door open with her elbow.

  Coughing and gasping noises didn’t match with what she expected to see. Someone leaned over another form on the bed. Choking them.

  Her mind finally recognized the form was Reed. His eyes bulged from their sockets, and his face was a purplish-blue.

  She gasped. The bag slipped from her hand.

  The stranger looked over at her.

  His eyes were sickly cold. Blood streamed from his nose.

  Her stomach turned to solid metal and plummeted into her ankles.

  Before she could finish processing the horror in the room, the man let go of Reed and charged at her.

  Skye flung the hot coffees at his face, hoping to blind him. He wailed at the burning liquid, giving her enough time to lunge for the gun she’d left on the television stand.

  Only it wasn’t there. It had been knocked over.

  The pistol lay on the floor beside the trash can.

  Her fingers grasped the handle just before the man slammed her body into the wall. He wrapped an arm around her to reach for the gun, but she elbowed him hard in the groin.

  He recoiled back with a howl.

  She spun and aimed the gun. Her hands shook as it fired.

  The first shot rang in her ears. She had no idea where the bullet landed, but the stranger stumbled.

  “Puta madre!”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Reed still laying on the bed, rubbing his neck, gasping and coughing.

  The madman pounced on her. She fired again, but he knocked the barrel to the side with a flick of his hand. The gun landed on the floor, out of reach. His arms wrapped around her again, like a vicious bear.

  She raised her arms to shove the heel of her palm up into his nostrils.

  The crunch beneath her hand made him scream. Fresh blood poured from his nose.

  She fought the urge to vomit from the smell of the blood combined with her overwhelming fear and dashed over to Reed. But the monster caught her from behind and pulled her in, her arms barred at her sides.

  With a growl, he lifted her up.

  Her legs flailed in the air. She screamed and threw her head back, hoping to land her skull against his nose. But her head merely grazed off his.

  He put her down to readjust his hold and reach for something.

  Her gaze caught the glint of a knife in the guy’s hand. She froze. The cold blade slipped under her neck. She winced, the sharp edge threatening to slice her skin.

  “You’re a fiery one, aren’t you? I’m going to make this hurt, puta. When I’m finished, no one will be able to recognize you, that is if they can find all the pieces.”

  Tears stung her eyes, and her whole body shook. There was barely any space in her mind to realize Reed had been right. The cartel found them so much faster than she imagined.

  All of this was real. Pieces of her life flashed before her—her parents, Lynée, and fantasies of she and Reed together. This horrible, gut-wrenching nightmare was real, and there’d be no waking up.

  “Let her go,” a harsh voice croaked.

  One she didn’t recognize. It was rough, hoarse, almost like from a swamp creature in a bad movie.

  Reed stood at the end of the bed. Aiming a gun. A gash marred the side of one arm.

  The man shifted Skye in front of him, blocking Reed’s shot. The knife pressed harder into her neck.

  She whimpered. Reed’s face was still an awful mixture of blue and purple, and red dots splotched the whites of his eyes.

  “I’ll slice her pretty neck…cut out her tongue and wag it in front of you. Put down the gun.”

  Everything in her body turned numb with fear. Somehow in all the panic and chaos slamming into her brain, a moment of the self-defense course flooded her memory. The instructor had grabbed her from behind, just like this.

  Make yourself heavy.

  Her mind struggled to remember. But with the blade still against her neck, going limp right now would only use her body weight to slice her own throat.

  “Let her go, Huerta,” Reed rasped, “and I’ll let you walk out that door. Otherwise, you’re a dead man. Those are your only options.”

  “No, they aren’t,” he chuckled right into her ear. “I can drag her with me. Have some fun with her.” He stepped back, pulling her with him. The blade tucked into her skin, and she had no choice but to move backward too.

  Tears slipped from her eyes, the cold trail slowly moving down her cheek. Followed by more tears. She had to get out of his hold. Somehow. If only he would just…

  “There’s nowhere you can go I can’t find you. And Dark Inferno is already compromised. A useless tool for the cartel now. By the way,” Reed smirked, “The graphics on that thing are pathetic. Your coding is sloppy.”

  Huerta’s breathing increased in her ear. “Better than anything you can do. And we’ve already moved on from Dark Inferno.” He pointed the knife at Reed. “You all are so slow, you’re obsolete.”

  This was her signal.

  She went limp. Then dropped to the ground. Her body slipped from his hold.

  A shot rang out, a loud boom that echoed off the walls.

  Skye screamed and covered her ears, ducking away.

  A gurgling noise made her look up.

  Huerta dropped to his knees, the knife thunking on the carpet. Reed’s bullet had gone straight through the man’s neck. A large hole oozed bright crimson blood down onto his shirt. Gravity carried him forward, and he face-planted directly next to Skye.

  She glanced over at Reed.

  He lowered the gun to his side, his chest heaving with each breath as he stared back at her. Somehow, she made it to her feet and scrambled over to him. He squeezed her back so tightly, and all she could do was hyperventilate into his shoulder.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. His raw voice scratched like sandpaper.

  “God, I don’t know. What about you?” She caressed his face, careful not to touch his neck. The skin was already covered in vicious bruises. His splotched eyes looked so painful. The gash still oozed blood, slowly. “You need a doctor.”

  “I’ll be okay. We need to get you a bandage.”

  “Me? Why?” She touched her throat, and when she pulled her hand back, blood smeared her fingers. The knife had dug in a little too tight. “It doesn’t even hurt.”


  He let out a weak chuckle, then grimaced, holding his side. “It will. Adrenaline is still pumping through you. Nice shot, by the way.” He nodded to Huerta on the floor.

  Skye looked at the man lying lifeless on the floor, his blood still pooling on the carpet. She stepped back, hands instinctively covering her mouth, and a shriek escaped like she expected the man to move any second. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Reed stepped closer, cupping her upper arms. “You’re shaking. You’re going into shock.”

  She could only stare at him, the events of the last few minutes replaying on a loop, over and over in her head.

  Reed pulled her close, rubbing her feverishly as if he could calm her tremors.

  “I was so scared. Seeing you,” she sobbed aloud, her voice trembling, “seeing you on the bed, him choking you.” Her head tipped onto his shoulder, letting the intensity of what she just went through pour out.

  He kissed her hair. “Ssh. It’s over, baby. You saved my life. And it’s over.” He kissed her forehead again, holding her as she balled over the extreme fear. “Deep breaths. It’s a reaction to shock; your blood vessels constrict during the fight-or-flight response. Which limits the amount of oxygen they hold. This feeling will pass, just keep breathing.”

  After several moments, her sobs finally ceased. She wiped her eyes and looked at the man she almost lost. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” His hands holding her arms, he stepped her back to the edge of the bed to sit. “Sweetheart, the cops will be here any second, and we can’t be found here. I need to pack our stuff.”

  She nodded. Hating feeling like a helpless person prone to panic attacks, but loving that Reed was close to comfort her.

  In several quick minutes, Reed had the place packed, and with a towel, gave the table and chair a quick wipe-down so police couldn’t find useful fingerprints.

  Her trembling increased when he wiped off Huerta’s hands as well, taking a plastic fork from the takeout bags in the trashcan to clean under the man’s fingernails.

  “What are you—”

  “My skin might be in there.”

  Skye covered her mouth and turned away. She couldn’t think about that.

  Do something. Help him.

  She grabbed another towel and wiped down the bathroom counters, toilet handle, and shower stall. Anywhere they might have touched.

  Reed grabbed the pistols and his knife from the floor, as well as Huerta’s blade, marred with streaks of blood. Hers, probably Reed’s too. He stashed them in the side pocket of one of his bags, then stripped the comforter from the bed.

  “Ready?” He touched her shoulder.

  “Yes.”

  “Ok, babe. Can you carry this?”

  She took the comforter and a bag and followed him to the door.

  “Let me go first,” he whispered.

  She stepped back as he opened the door and scanned the hallway. “Clear. Let’s go.”

  They both moved down the stairs and out a back service door, stopping periodically to scan the surroundings.

  They loaded everything in the truck, and Reed retrieved a cell phone from his overnight bag. “Here, baby, power this on, call 911, and tell the police there’s an unconscious man in room 802.”

  She made the call, quelling the acid that bubbled in her stomach at just saying the words out loud. Before the operator asked any questions, she hung up.

  They got on the road, heading toward the city. A mile down the hill, he pulled into a parking lot. Instead of turning into a spot, he stopped beside a commercial trash can. “Hand me the phone.”

  She turned it over, where he proceeded to snap the phone in half, then opened the window and pitched it. The comforter from the bed followed into the bin.

  Then Reed made a U-turn to make their way higher up the mountain, into the pass. They drove aimlessly for a while, she couldn’t be sure how long since she’d kept her eyes closed most of the drive, trying to breathe deeply to overcome the nausea that had gripped her ever since that horrible experience in the motel.

  “How you feelin’?”

  She opened her eyes. Tall trees lined the road on either side, and they were clearly much higher up in the pass than she expected. “I’m okay.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  Her stomach was still too unsettled to even think about eating. But maybe some toast would soak up the fear. They hadn’t eaten the breakfast she’d brought back. She remembered carrying in that bag of burritos and hash browns to refuel him after such a long night of working, and she’d actually smiled, feeling so proud of him. Then their whole words were flipped upside down. She wondered if she’d smile ever again.

  He reached over and cupped her hand. “A few miles up the road, there’s a cafe, we can grab a bite. Get you some water or coffee.”

  “How are you so calm?” she asked his reflection in the window. His eyes still unnerved her, with red splotches so easily visible even in the glass.

  It was a long moment before he responded. “I’ve been doing this a while.”

  * * *

  Reed watched Skye carefully in the booth at the cafe. After he cleaned up his arm in the bathroom and wrapped it with some paper towels, he slid in beside her on the cushion to hold her if she started shaking again. She just sat there, stirring a cup of coffee and staring at the swirling liquid. The dazed expression she wore is what rattled him most. He hated seeing her like this. And it was completely his fault.

  At least she’d downed half the glass of water. But she hadn’t touched her toast.

  “You did great back there, baby.”

  “What do you mean? I missed him, didn’t I?”

  “You got him in the leg.”

  She scoffed. “A lot of good that did. He still managed to get a knife on me. My hands were shaking so much, I was sure I missed him.”

  Reed kept his voice low. “The second he moved the knife, you knew exactly what to do.”

  She finally looked up at him. Her face was so pale, but damn, her eyes were so beautiful. Even now. “I took a self-defense course. Shortly after the Vance thing.” She swallowed hard. “Lynée urged me to take it. That was the first move they taught me.”

  “Thank God for that. It’s a shame you had to learn those maneuvers at all, but it made all the difference back there.”

  Her eyes misted over. “You’ve been on the run and on your guard so long. A whole year. When did you start being able to breathe again?”

  He caressed her cheek. “When I met you.”

  Skye leaned into his hand, and the corner of her mouth lifted ever so slightly. “Please tell me with that man gone, now you’re free.”

  He nodded. “That bastard killed Joe. Now I can prove it and clear my name.”

  “So, where do we go?” She leaned her head on his shoulder. Just sitting there side by side in a booth, like a normal couple.

  He couldn’t hide a hint of a smile on his lips. “I take you home.” He wanted that so much.

  Normal.

  “Then…” Her sigh was shaky. “What happens to us?”

  He gripped her hand in his, fluttering kisses along her knuckles. “I’d like to try a full-time boyfriend with you. Up here in the mountains. Eventually, more than that. If you’re interested.”

  Her eyebrows raised, and for the first time since they left, he saw that glimmer of life. “Really? You’re not interested in continuing to be an agent?”

  He shook his head. “Definitely not. You’re what I want.”

  She smiled.

  There it was. What he dreamed of most nights. That angelic face all lit up, staring at him.

  He laced his fingers in hers. “For the time being, unless you’re in class or with family and friends, I don’t want you out of my sight. In fact, I’d be completely fine with you in my bed twenty-four seven.”

  She straightened in her seat. “Your bed? No way, we are not going back to that place again. Remember, your place was shot all to hell with a few dead carca
sses lying around. We’re going to my bed.”

  “Sunshine, watch yourself,” he said with a grin, narrowing his eyes. “I recall three different instances in which you needed a spanking. Should we make it four?” His eyebrow lifted.

  Her eyes may have widened, but the sparkle told him that was exactly what she wanted.

  The first call Skye had made when she returned home to Cascade Creek was to Lynée. Her worry and relief were easily heard through the phone with tears and sobbing. Even Reed had winced. She’d spilled the entire ordeal to her best friend.

  After a painfully long pause, Lynée made her swear never to run off like that again.

  An easy promise to make.

  The good news was the imminent threat was over. Reed had the proof he needed. There was no need to run anymore.

  Finally, the pair of them could get back to normal.

  Only she had no idea how long it would take her to get used to calling him Reed Monroe, not Guy Hancock.

  * * *

  Skye and Reed returned to the diner Tuesday morning for their regular shifts as if nothing had happened. He looked like hell, and she sported a fresh bandage on her neck. At least his high-neck sweater covered most of the bruises on his throat. Those would be really hard to explain.

  The Halloween decorations of fake spiderwebs in the corners and hanging rubber bats from the ceiling were replaced with fall leaves twisted in garlands and wreaths hanging in the windows. The jack-o’-lanterns were replaced with fresh, painted pumpkins on the counter ends. Everything from the Autumn decorations boxes she’d packed away last year.

  The fact that her boss had managed to turn over the decorations while she was away gave her a sigh of relief. Things weren’t completely falling apart without her, despite the bad food. Even if he hadn’t put them up himself—he wasn’t the decorating-type—at least he’d known to ask others to update the ambiance.

  Nayanna gave her a big hug, her bright smile so comforting. Of course, she had lots of questions. But from Ralph’s glare and crossed arms from across the counter, the chatter stopped.

  “I see your stomach bug finally improved,” he said. From his tone, clearly, he didn’t believe that story.