Rock Me Deeper (Licks of Leather #5) - Jenna Jacob Page 0,23

much distance between us as possible, to save his career. And I had to do it now.

Racing to the bathroom, I clenched my jaw and stripped off the pajamas, then carefully pulled on the other set of borrowed clothes. The sweatpants and tee did nothing to hide the bandages or other wounds covering my arms and neck. I could brush my hair down over my face to shield the bruises there, but without the luxury of the guys surrounding me, I wouldn’t be able to escape too many prying eyes this time.

After darting out of the bathroom, I grabbed the tube of ointment before hurrying to Syd’s room. I opened the drawers of the tall oak dresser and grabbed a pair of white socks. After carefully drawing them over my toes and the thick bandages covering my ankles, I slid on the tennis shoes Mia had lent me.

With my legs, ankles, and feet covered, I started digging for a shirt that would conceal the bandages on my wrists but came up empty. Dashing into the spacious walk-in closet, I hit the jackpot. I was able to exchange Mia’s tee for a long-sleeved Henley, a ball cap I could pull down low to hide the bruises on my face. But the best find by far was a black leather jacket. The buttery-soft hide all but melted over my fingers as I slid it on. Instantly, Syd’s familiar scent surrounded me, and I had to fight off the sorrow filling my soul and stinging my eyes. As I exited the closet and started out the door, I spied his wallet sitting on the nightstand.

You’ve already ripped his heart out. You’re going to steal from him, too? the little voice in my head scoffed.

“How else am I supposed to get home? Walk?” I muttered, trying to ignore the mounting guilt weighing heavily on my chest.

If Syd had let me find my purse before carrying me out of Zattman’s house, I could fly home. My boarding pass was on my phone, along with my ID, credit cards, and cash.

But without my driver’s license, I couldn’t buy another ticket, even if I had the cash.

Hell, I couldn’t even rent a car and drive home.

Flopping down on Syd’s bed, I shoved the tube of ointment into the pocket of his jacket before twisting my hair into a sloppy bun and shoving on his ball cap.

Think. Think.

There had to be a way to get home that didn’t require a driver’s license, but I couldn’t come up with a single alternative. Oh, there was one alternative, but I refused to ask Syd for more help.

“Come on, Caris. You’re a grown woman, think of something!” I groused out loud.

From out of the blue, it hit me.

“A bus.”

Maybe. Was Greyhound still in business? They were when I was six. My foster parents had loaded us all up in their minivan and driven to Mountain Home to pick up our new foster brother, who’d come in on a bus from Nashville.

If I could make it to Mountain Home, I might be able to call someone to drive me back to Diamond City.

But you can’t get to Mountain Home without money, the voice in my head taunted.

I bit my lip and eyed his wallet.

Did Syd even carry cash or simply use credit cards?

I knew his habits when we were young but didn’t have the luxury to stick around and see to see if they’d carried over to adulthood. All I’d discovered in the short time we’d spent together was that Syd was no longer a troubled, combative teen, but a caring, compassionate man.

One I could easily fall head-over-heels in love with again.

Clenching my jaw, I snatched his wallet off the nightstand. With a heavy heart, I stroked the soft black leather. Another mountain of shame rained down on me as I flipped it open and withdrew the stack of hundred-dollar bills tucked inside. I gaped at the money and quickly estimated I was clutching three or four thousand dollars…hell, maybe more.

A foreboding chill slid down my spine.

The day I was released from the youth detention center, I’d made a vow to never steal from anyone again. Before getting caught, I’d convinced myself the things Syd and I had stolen, and I pawned in other towns, was simply for our survival. But locked away in that cold, empty cell, I’d realized that our enemy hadn’t been hunger but the rush of getting away with something forbidden. Well, that and pride. If we had