Page 13 of Unplanned Target

Thankfully, Allie doesn’t seem to be having as hard of a time. She’s running like a freaking gazelle beside Owen—the beauty of being sixteen—so I’m the one holding us back. I don’t like that. I like being good at everything I do. Do whatever I can to be the best I possibly can at any task set in front of me.

That’s what I’m going to do now, too. I keep my head down and focus all my energy into putting one foot in front of the other. I’m not a short woman, but Owen is still quite a bit taller than me, so his legs are substantially longer, making it even more difficult to keep up.

I can feel when I start to slow down, because the pull of Owen’s hold on me increases. I dig deep, trying to find more to give, but it’s not there. For the first time since all this started, I feel like crying.

I’m failing. My daughter. Myself. The man trying desperately to save us. And no matter how hard I try, it just keeps getting worse.

Owen slows, turning to me, and I expect to see disappointment and frustration on his face. I brace for the gut punch that always comes when someone finds me lacking.

But Owen’s expression is just as calm and focused as ever when it moves over my face. Then, without judgment or complaint, he reaches for me, releasing my hand so he can scoop me up.

“Come on, mama. Let’s get you the fuck out of here.” He jerks his chin, meeting my daughter’s eyes. “Get in front of me.”

She does it without argument or hesitation, proving herself to be at least a little less obstinate than I am.

As we continue running, Owen softly offers direction, helping my daughter navigate through the darkened neighborhood as we weave our way to where we left his Jeep.

“Slow down.” His voice is extra quiet this time, and I worry my daughter doesn’t hear.

But, proving she’s pretty freaking capable of escaping a bad situation, Allie’s steps come to a stop. She turns to us, looking directly at Owen as she waits for him to dole out more directions.

But he stays silent, lowering me to the ground before urging my daughter and I against the side of the house next to us. Looking from me to Allie he holds up one finger, telling us to wait a minute.

My daughter nods, reaching out to hold my hand like she thinks she needs to keep me in place.

It’s a fair assumption.

I give her palm a little squeeze as Owen creeps to the front of the structure, carefully peering around the corner. He stays like that for only a few seconds before turning back, his mouth pressed flat in a grim line.

Whatever he saw did not make him happy.

Coming back to where Allie and I stand, he crowds close, blocking both of us with his big body as he leans into my ear. “The Jeep is gone.”

I feel a little dizzy, and grab onto the closest support there is, which happens to be Owen. My fingers dig into the soft fabric of his shirt as I pull in air, trying to figure out what in the hell we do now.

Without the Jeep, we can’t get out of here. And if we can get out of here⁠—

“We need to find a car we can steal.” Owen’s eyes scan the area around us as he speaks. “I could call for someone to come get us, but I don’t know that they’ll be able to get here in time.”

“Mrs. Landis. We should take her car.” Allie offers up an option surprisingly quickly. “She’s not allowed to drive anymore anyway, so it just sits there.”

Owen turns his attention to my daughter. “How far away?”

“Around the corner.” Allie gestures in the direction of our elderly neighbor’s home. “And it’s parked beside the house where it’s kind of dark.”

A smile blooms across Owen’s face, his straight white teeth bright even in the moonlight. “Perfect. Well done.” His attention returns to me. “Can you run?”

“Of course I can run.” I sniff, hating how weak he thinks I am. “I got a cramp before.” I dish out the lie easily. I’d rather be a liar than weak.

“Okay then.” Owen takes my hand. “Let’s go.”

In under thirty seconds, I’m fighting for my life again, trying not to wheeze because it would show just how incapable I am.

And probably also call attention to our location.

Somehow, I manage not to hold us back, but when I see Mrs. Landis’s car, I nearly collapse in relief, and Owen has to drag me the last few feet.

Keeping to the darkest shadows, Owen leads me and Allie along the outside wall of Mrs. Landis’s brick house to the driver’s side of her older-model sedan. He barely pauses before grabbing the door handle, and I can see the relief on his face when it opens without resistance.