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11
Topaz could tell Onyx was in pain, but he insisted on being brave and trying not to show it. She silently gave him credit, but didn’t want to say anything to embarrass him more than he was already. The way he lost his leg was horrific and not his fault in any way, but she’d noticed he tried his best to hide the disability. Even over the winter, he didn’t get a handicap placard. Red would have filled out the forms in a heartbeat. She wasn’t sure if it was pride, or shame. Either way, he’d learned to hide it well enough that even Glen and Stimpy hadn’t figured it out.
A shudder tore through her when she thought about what the two of them would have done to his leg if they’d known. She closed her eyes trying to tamp down the visions only to see the smoldering cabin and wish she could have done worse to them. Her cousins would be up for parole soon and she wavered between giving a victim statement to get them to rot, or having them released and sending Steels after them.
Topaz had never met any Arkansas Steels, but there had to be some. Dell would know. Life was full of choices, but death was too good for her cousins. She’d run, ostracized because she refused to follow the party line. As if the blood that ran in her veins had somehow curdled and spoiled because she refused to lie. Maybe that’s why the Steels had become her family. They never once asked her to lie. Every man to a member owned the shit they did. Running guns, blowing shit up, and transporting kids with their mothers even if it were technically, illegal.
Everyone knew what they were doing when they signed on, and if shit went sideways, they were willing to take the hit. She knew Dreamer was nervous, being new to the life, when Freaky would roll out on a run, but the newest Ol’ Lady would take a deep kiss from her fiancé and threaten him with death if he didn’t return. Like a good Ol’ Lady should.
They only had so much gas and Topaz worried they would run out. She didn’t think he could walk very far if that happened. Ready to hike it out on her own if it did happen. Flexing her feet and then pointing them in the only way she knew how to stretch. She only prayed that these homes ahead were safe because no matter how much she insisted or how much his body would protest moving, Onyx was the type of stubborn ass that would try.
They drove for a few minutes and the lone road started to turn into a small town. The sign said St. Xavier. She knew where they were. They were only about an hour, maybe seventy miles outside of Turnabout Creek. “We made it Onyx,” she said with an exhausted gust of air right as the gas light clicked on.
“We got another twenty-twenty five miles if we need it,” he said, lowering his head and eyeing the few buildings and houses in the unincorporated town of St. Xavier.
“This is close to the Res, when Hack and I were on a run he rolled through because one of his great grandparents had been forced to go to the Catholic school. He wanted to see the church that—” She pointed to the tan building, one of a handful in the small town. Topaz clapped her hands excitement rushing through her veins from finding a spot she knew. Looking over she saw that Onyx wasn’t. The grim look darkening his eyes confused her. “What’s the matter?”
“We haven’t found a phone or a friendly face yet. Hell, we don’t even know if anyone really lives here,” he said, his voice low as if he would be heard in the town without even a dog barking in the distance. “I’m black and that might be a problem here.”
“Well, I’ll go then and call.” She reached over and covered his hand resting on the seat.
“No!” Onyx’s jaw was tight. “We’ll both go. I’m not leaving you alone again.”
“Ever?” Topaz questioned before she could stop herself. “I—I didn’t mean that to sound—well, sounds good, we can go together.” She respected the fact he was being brave for her. There was no question that they weren’t out of danger yet. Not knowing where the group ACT-UP was, they had to be careful. Members could be anywhere.
He drove up to a small café, open for breakfast, but only had a handful of tables. Glen and Stimpy had taken everything they had in their pockets. With no money between them, she hoped someone would help, even if it was just to lend them a phone.
Onyx parked the pickup on the side of the road and they got out. Smoothing his hands over his head Onyx kept scanning up and down the road.
She walked around the hood of the truck and wove her fingers with his. Glancing up, she squeezed his hand. “Hey, you ever thought about the fact we’re both precious stones that require other stones to cut us?”
“What did you say?” He smiled down at her, his shoulders relaxing a bit, as he turned toward her.
“Onyx, Topaz,” she said with a shrug as they made their way across the road. “I was trying to distract you.”
“Never thought about that,” he said as he opened the door for her. “Why have you never been claimed?”
“I never opened myself up to be,” she said swallowing back the pain of her last decade of life. “There were men, but I’ve never really wanted…”
“More?” he said with a nod. “I get that.”
The café was so cute, it was smaller than the one in Turnabout that the old couple ran. A few people sat at the tables inside the restaurant.
Topaz led Onyx to the cash register set on the counter.
Three stools lined the counter and a waitress came from the kitchen. “What can I do for you two?” She had a friendly smile, and welcoming voice.
“Is there a phone we can use? We got stranded on the road and we’re pretty much out of gas. Well worse, diesel,” Topaz explained while thumbing toward Onyx to set the woman at ease. “He’s all winter in Montana you need a diesel. You get it, right? Anyway, we didn’t see a station close. Thought we’d need to call our friends to come and help us. They don’t live too far.”
City far was different than country, and Montana far was a whole other type of distance. Something about most things being a half hour to an hour away, she wasn’t lying. Even if she said they were from Turnabout Creek, the woman would understand it really wasn’t a long drive.
“Oh, sure honey.” The waitress handed her the cell phone out of her pocket. “I had a man like that once, pushing the tank to see how far. Most of the ranchers around here have their own pumps. The closest station is a truck stop about twenty minutes down the highway, but you can use my cell to call your friends.”
Roadkill’s cell number was one every woman on the compound memorized. She dialed quickly and waited until the other woman answered.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Roadkill, it’s—”
