Page 44 of Property of Whiskey

“All right.”

“No.”

“Kaylee, I said all right.”

She starts crying anyway. Quietly. That’s worse than screaming. I move close enough to block her view of the dormitory behind me without crowding her.

“Ain’t nobody making you do a damn thing right this second.”

“They’ll know.”

“Who?”

“They always know.”

I don’t ask again. There’ll be time for questions if we get her out of here alive.

A branch cracks somewhere beyond the dormitory.

My head turns toward it.

Kaylee locks up beside the wall.

“Stay here.”

Her hand shoots out and catches my wrist before I can rise.

The panic in her grip surprises me.

“Don’t leave.”

Fuck.

Every instinct I have says cover her. Same instinct that wakes me when Wren coughs wrong in the middle of the night.

I crouch again.

“I ain’t leaving.”

Another sound moves through the brush.

Could be an animal.

Could be somebody watching us.

Either way, we’re too exposed.

“My bike’s through the fence.”

Her eyes widen. “I can’t.”

“You don’t have to ride far. Just need to get you closer to cover.”

“No.”

“Can you walk?”

She tries to push herself upright.