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I take the picture from the bedside table and put it in the new frame I bought at Wal-E-Mart, then set it on Jude’s dresser. An ache forms in my chest when I look at the photo of Jude’s family, and I still feel guilty for breaking it. Nothing ever eases the pain of losing someone you love, and I can’t imagine how much harder it must be to cope with the fact they were murdered.
Movement in the doorway catches my attention. Jude leans against the frame with a frown on his face. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. I’m locking the gate.”
“Where’s Caleb?”
“At work.” I can see the conflict playing over his features. He’s never left me here alone, and while I hate to admit it, between Tom and the cartel, I’m not thrilled by the prospect of it.
“I’m not staying here by myself.”
“You’re not coming with me. It’s not safe.”
“And you think me being here without you is?” I hate that he feels like some kind of anchor to me. That I fear being in this corrupt world of his without him holding my hand.
The internal struggle is evident in the tic of Jude’s jaw. On a huff, he steps to the side and gestures for me to go ahead of him. “You make everything fucking complicated, you know that?”
I get up and move past him, trying to ignore the woodsy smell that drifts off him and begs me to move closer. “Your life is a shit show of complicated. Don’t pretend I make it any worse.”
I follow him out of the house and fight a smile when he opens the passenger door for me. I can’t get over the fact that Jude Pearson, asshole extraordinaire, is secretly a gentleman.
After I get in, he rounds the front of the truck and gets behind the wheel. Headlights shine over the side of the house as he backs out, then heads down the winding drive.
I fiddle with the radio, flipping through nothing but static. He really does live in the middle of nowhere. Pros: apparently, no one gives a shit when you drive around with dead bodies in the back of your truck. Cons: no radio signal.
Finally, music comes through the speakers, and the lyrics of Dolly Parton fill the cab. From the frown he shoots my way, he’s not a fan of old Dolly, but he doesn’t ask me to change the station.
We pass endless fields of what looks like corn until they give way to a rundown town. We pass the Wal-E-Mart and pawn shops with dubiously dressed women on every corner. It’s definitely not a tourist area, that’s for sure.
“Where are we?”
“A shithole,” he says, pulling off the highway into a gravel lot.
A string of Christmas lights decorates the front of the bar, the multi-colored twinkle reflecting off the hoods of parked cars that look like they belong in a junkyard. “Well, this looks…cheerful.”
Jude grumbles something under his breath as he pulls between two rusted pickups. He reaches under the seat and brings out a gun, handing it to me. “If I’m not out in fifteen minutes, you leave.”
Alarm flits through me. “Why wouldn’t you come back?”
He cocks a brow before he slips out from behind the wheel. The door slams closed, and he taps on the glass, telling me to lock it. I’m still stuck on the thought of him possibly not coming back when I press the locks. He disappears inside the bar, and I wait, clutching the gun to my chest while staring at that door like all hell is about to break loose. Five minutes pass, and the tension winding my muscles loosen a little.
My gaze drifts across the rows of cars in the parking lot, stopping when I see two guys hunched down by some ratty old car, shoving something under the window seal. Jesus, this place really is a shit hole. The car doesn’t even look like it’s worth stealing.
I think they’re busted when a red-headed girl in the smallest skirt I’ve ever seen approaches them, but she knees the bigger guy in the balls, then gets in the car and drives away. Well, go her.
A string of drunks filter in and out of the bar, and with each minute that passes, I wonder if I’m really supposed to leave if Jude doesn’t come out? I don’t even know how to get back to his house—I don’t even know where I am.
Sixteen minutes have passed when Jude finally shoves the door open so hard it bangs against the exterior of the building. Even from here, I can tell he’s pissed. The locks click, and he climbs in, throwing the car in reverse on a rev of the engine.
I glance at him when he speeds off. “Before you say anything, it was one minute.”
