around with no end in sight. The song itself was not awful. On the contrary, it was quite beautiful. It just made me feel awful. It was the song Jane had sung but on never-ending repeat.
“Turn it off,” I croaked.
“You have an issue with country?”
I blinked in stupefaction. I stared at the guy sitting next to me, one arm over the wheel, a piece of beef jerky bobbing from his mouth, his other arm searching for something in a plastic bag.
My forehead was pressed against the window and the scene around me started to unfold. The sun sat low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the world.
We were on an interstate, cars zooming past on all sides. Though we were going—I glanced at the speedometer—ninety miles per hour.
As I sat up straighter, my head left a streak of sweat on the glass. Perspiration drenched me. He hadn’t bothered to put the air conditioner on, though it felt hotter than Hades in his truck. The music that played was not the same song. It was country.
I must have been having a nightmare. My subconscious tormented me with visions of blood, loss, and ache, all accompanied by a ballad about everything but bleeding.
The country tune was much preferred to the alternative.
“You listen to country?” He chomped down and the smell of grease and animal carnage scented the interior.
At the same time, my stomach growled and was repulsed. My lips were dry, so was the roof of my mouth, and my tongue felt like sandpaper against both. “I dabble.” Maggie Beautiful had turned me on to a couple of songs, but I refused to share more than that.
He cackled. “Maybe I’ll take you dancing after all.”
“That was the plan. How long have we been driving?”
“About seven hours.”
“Hmm.” I still felt like I needed sleep. And everything hurt, like I had the flu. My heart included. Especially my heart. It was taking the slow path to death. Regardless, I sat up even straighter, sweeping my hair into a messy bun in hopes of releasing the warmer air trapped underneath. “Where are we?”
“Texas,” he said, pushing the bag closer to me. “Help yourself.”
Beer and beef jerky. I pushed the bag back. Ace grinned and I knew without a doubt that the devil who wanted to dance hid there.
Pushing further into the corner of his truck, I assumed my earlier position, falling fast asleep once more.
I woke with a start. I had been falling from a far height, unable to fly, no angelo sbagliata there to swoop me up in his arms. I entered into full consciousness in less time than before, but my head felt fuzzy and my body weak. I needed water and a restroom.
We were parked under an awning, gas pumps to the left, a small station to the right. A few bright lights set here and there gave me the impression we were in a rural area, off the beaten path.
Ace slumped over the steering wheel of his truck, his attention focused on something I couldn’t see. But I could feel something coming from him, vibrating like his truck underneath my legs.
“Ace,” I said, going for the door handle. “I need a break.”
He stopped me by taking a handful of my shirt in his hands. “Not here.”
“I need to go!”
“No.” He shook his head. Then he looked at me. His eyes were red rimmed but glossed over. The devil had made it to his eyes. “Not here.”
“When?”
“Want anything? Coffee? Beer? I drank the last one. How about some wine? You seem like the kind of girl that drinks wine.”
I swallowed hard. Whatever amount of panic I had left started to rise. But it wasn’t much, and somewhere deep in my subconscious I knew I should have been more afraid, running away at top speed, but I couldn’t manage it. All I could manage was sweaty palms and a bit of jitter in my feet. I yearned to make straight lines.
“Coffee…and some water?” I licked chapped lips.
He gave a slow nod. “All right,” he said with more twang than usual. He stared at me for a few beats. I couldn’t read him. Determined. Indifferent. Excited. Ready. That’s what I got from him, but I couldn’t be too sure. He leaned in close. I inched my way closer to the door.
He grinned, then leaned in further, just enough to reach me. He gave me a chaste kiss on the lips. I didn’t move a muscle, or breathe, or blink. Then he flung