Don't Turn Around - Jessica Barry Page 0,19

picked up his beer bottle and started picking at the label. Shit. He’d have to risk the free clinic.

“I’m just saying, somebody needs to teach her a lesson. Put her back in her place.” Jake twisted toward him. “You know what I’m saying?”

Craig was silent.

Jake nudged him with his foot. “Hey, man, are you listening?”

Cannon Air Force Base, New Mexico—217 Miles from Albuquerque

They’d been silent for the first couple miles back on the road, eyes trained on the mirrors, watching out for headlights, waiting for the man from the diner to appear on the road intent on killing them, but the lights of Clovis had faded and the road behind them had remained stubbornly empty. Rebecca felt herself breathe again.

Cait looked over at her. “Did you recognize him?”

“No.” It was the truth: Rebecca hadn’t recognized that man in the diner, but she’d known as soon as she’d seen him that he was there for her. The look in his eyes, caught in a fraction of a glance, was enough to tell her that.

Patrick must have called the house phone and realized she was gone. But how would he have found her so quickly? She looked at the dashboard clock. They hadn’t been on the road longer than a couple of hours. It wasn’t enough time for him to have sent someone to the house, let alone track her down like this.

Unless he already knew where they were headed.

Cait shook her head. “I didn’t recognize him, either. Well, he’s gone now, anyway. Are you okay?”

“A little shaken up. You?”

“I’m fine,” Cait said, a little too quickly. She was still rattled and trying hard to hide it. “Honestly? He was probably just some creep.” She sneaked a glance Rebecca’s way, testing out whether she was buying it.

“Probably,” Rebecca said vaguely. She didn’t want to let Cait in on her suspicions, not until she knew for sure what was out there. She couldn’t risk Cait deciding it was too dangerous. They’d read a disclaimer to her over the phone when she’d set up the appointment. “Sisters of Service holds the right to terminate a drive at any point if the client’s safety or the driver’s safety is in immediate danger. If a direct threat is made to the client or driver, Sisters of Service will contact the authorities immediately.” Rebecca had agreed to the terms because this was her only choice. She couldn’t afford to lose it.

“There are a lot of creeps in this world, but most of them are harmless. We get them at the bar all the time,” Cait said. “Guys who think that just because you’re serving them a drink, it means they own a piece of you. I had this one guy who spent the whole night tipping a buck on five-drink rounds. The bar closes, I’m walking to my car, and the guy staggers up to me and offers me a hundred bucks for a blow job.”

Rebecca was horrified. “What did you say?”

“I told him I wouldn’t touch his dick for a million bucks, and to get the hell away from me before I called the cops.”

“Weren’t you scared?”

“Of what? The guy could barely stand up straight.”

“I would have been worried about making him angry. He could have hurt you.”

Cait shrugged. “Like I said, he could barely walk, let alone take a swing at me. Besides, I grew up with three brothers. I can take care of myself.”

Rebecca didn’t challenge her. She knew Cait was saying it so she felt safe in her care, but something about the bravado rubbed Rebecca the wrong way.

She tried to remember herself at Cait’s age. She’d been teaching by then, putting in fifty-plus hours a week in a dingy classroom and still working weekends at the bar for extra cash. Had she met Patrick by then? Probably. She’d been—what—twenty-five? So maybe a little younger than Cait. Twenty-five and waiting for her life to start.

It was his smile she saw first. It was blinding white, like something out of a toothpaste ad, a row of perfect teeth grinning at her from across the room. She looked away—that’s what she’d been taught to do if she saw a man she was interested in, make eye contact and look away—and when she looked back, he was still smiling. With something close to awe, she watched him walk across the room.

Square shoulders, crisp button-down, that smile that led to a pair of deep dimples. He had eyes that could be credibly described as sparkling. He extended

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