and my boss is expecting me too. I need to let them know that I’m going to be gone for a while.”
I nod curtly. “Just keep the calls quick.”
We both head toward the restrooms, heads down. The guy at the counter barely glances at us, but I still keep our pace quick.
A few minutes later, we emerge from the restrooms. Brianna’s washed her face and hands. I can tell from the cheap soap smell wafting from her skin, but it doesn’t deter her natural sunshine-and-caramel scent that I love so much.
“Grab some food while I withdraw the money,” I tell her. I slip my credit card into her hand. Since we’re not hiding anything right now, we might as well go all out. “And make the call on my credit card on the phone back there.” I jerk my thumb toward the phone in the back.
“I will.” She makes quick work of grabbing food. She’s strategic about it too. Instead of grabbing junk food, she loads her arms with fresh bananas and apples, bags of trail mix, power bars, a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and bottles of water and juice. She’s not a junk food eater, and that pleases me. My mate takes care of herself physically, which is probably why she has such a knockout body, but it’s more than that. She’s smart. The foods she chose will sustain us longer than any bag of chips.
After she’s dropped the groceries at the counter, the cashier begins ringing up the mountain of food while we both head toward our destinations—her to the phone and me to the ATM.
I mentally begin timing myself when I approach the machine, and a pit forms in my stomach when I pull out my debit card. I haven’t used it in over a year. A part of me wonders if it’ll still work. For all I know, the Wyoming pack has seized my accounts, but when I slip my card into the machine and it asks for my PIN, I let out a sigh of relief.
I withdraw the max the machine allows—three thousand—before I go to Brianna. She’s on the phone, her voice quiet, but my enhanced senses allow me to easily hear her.
“Yeah, I know, but I’m fine, really I am. I’ll just be gone for another few weeks cause my dad needs me right now.” She gives me an anxious look, and I tap my wrist. With a quick nod of her head, she says, “Macy, I gotta go, but I’ll call again when I can.” She smiles sadly. “Yeah, bitch, I love you too. Talk soon.”
I don’t know if she’s had time to call her boss yet, but regardless, we’re out of time. We head toward the counter. She’s wringing her hands again, and her forehead is furrowed.
Shit. She’s worrying.
The cashier is waiting for us so I hand him my credit card. The entire transaction doesn’t take more than thirty seconds, yet it feels like eons. I continuously look around because between using my debit and credit card, I know the SF now has a location on me.
The second the clerk gives me the receipt, I grab the bags, then Brianna’s hand and haul her out of the store. She doesn’t say a word.
We both slip into the hatchback, and the engine roars to life. With a stomp of the pedal, we’re off. I don’t look back because the clock is ticking. We have to get as far away from this place as quickly as we can.
As of three minutes and twenty seconds ago, the SF is actively hunting me, and they know where we are.
∞ ∞ ∞
She’s biting her lip again. The Californian landscape zips by her window, but she doesn’t pay it any attention. I keep my foot down on the accelerator. The old hatchback rockets down I-40, protesting at times on the hills.
We’ve put thirty miles behind us, but that doesn’t mean we’re safe. My plan is to get us to Sacramento by the evening. It’s a well populated city, meaning we’ll have an easy time booking a hotel without drawing attention to ourselves.
“Are you okay?” I ask her. We’ve both been quiet for the past half hour, me as I continually check my mirrors and surroundings for SF sedans, and her apparently lost in thought.
She runs a hand through her hair, and the long locks trail down her shoulder. “Yeah. I’m fine, I just keep thinking about my friends, job, and school.”
My stomach churns.