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I liked that he was worried about me.
I liked even more that he hadn’t left my side in my biggest time of need.
That was where my thoughts were directed as we drove to the closest donut shop.
“Do you want anything?” I asked as I opened my door.
He was on the phone with Winston, talking about logistics for something in Brazil of all places, and I didn’t want him to stop whatever he was talking about—because it sounded very important.
“Grab me a couple of kolaches,” he urged.
I went inside, but immediately felt someone’s gaze on me the moment that I walked through the door.
I looked around, finding two very young men behind the counter. They were probably all of thirteen.
“Hello,” the closer one said. “What can we get you?”
I ordered my food, then paid for it, still very much feeling like there were eyes on me.
I looked around, spotting a man in a car across the street at the battery place, and came to a stop.
He looked so familiar.
Why?
But before I could put any more thought into how I knew him, my door was shoved open from inside, and Keene was leaning over the console, holding his hand out for the drinks and food.
I gave it to him, then climbed into his truck.
“What was behind us that had you looking spooked?” he asked.
“Just some man glaring at me from across the street,” I explained. “I didn’t know him. He did look vaguely familiar, though.”
“Hmm,” he said as he turned around, but when I glanced back, the man was gone.
We pulled out of the parking lot, and I started to hand Keene his food.
“I hate this place,” he grumbled as a man cut him off.
I-30 was fucking ridiculous.
“Agreed,” I said. “Honestly, I think that was why I chose to go off to new places. Dallas has a lot of amenities, but shit. It’s like I can’t breathe when there are so many people around me sometimes.”
We merged onto the interstate, and flashing red and blue lights up ahead caught my eye.
“Great,” Keene said. “Just a perfect way to clog up traffic.”
It was true.
It didn’t take much to clog up traffic, but what made it even worse was the fact that literally all people had to see to slow down and swerve out of lanes was a blinking light… on the other side of the road.
“Call 911.”
I frowned, looking up to see why, and instantly saw the two people on the ground rolling around in the slow lane of the highway. There was also a state trooper’s cruiser pulled up behind a vehicle with his hazard lights on.
“Oh, shit,” I said as I pulled out my phone.
The 911 operator answered on the second ring.
