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I finally hear her talking to someone, voice raised. And I smile to myself. She’s not one to mince words or beat around the bush. I like her no-holds-barred type of energy, and it’s exactly what I need right now.
I’m standing at the door with a grin on my face as Ritters inserts the key, pulling it open. He glowers at me.
Too damn bad, pig.
I sashay past him in my tattered dress and right into the outstretched arms of Miss Lulah.
“Oh, honey, what happened to you?” she asks, leaning back to look at me before pulling me back in.
There’s no way I can smell good at all right now, so I commend her for her dedication to this hug she has us locked in.
“Don’t worry; I can call in some favors to get this dropped. Let’s get you out of here.” She wraps an arm around my waist as we walk toward the discharge area.
I don’t ask who her connections are. I don’t think I want to know.
I sign some papers, and then I’m free. I didn’t have anything on me when I came in, so I don’t have to wait around for my belongings.
We walk outside to a bright yellow Cadillac that looks like it’s from the ’50s. I glance at Miss Lulah, and she grins at me.
“I like to ride in style,” she says.
I climb into the passenger seat. It’s retro and cool inside. The dashboard and radio area all look authentic and chic. I love it.
“Now, let’s get you to my house and get some food in you. Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” I tell her honestly.
“Seems like you have quite the story to tell,” she muses as she pulls out on the road. I don’t think she even looked before doing it.
I brace myself as cars honk from both directions.
“You have no idea,” I say, shaking my head as she floors the car.
She whips around other vehicles on the road without a care in the world.
“How’s my Connor?” she asks.
A pang of hurt spreads in my chest at the mention of him. I’ve been successfully blocking his name from my mind for a while now, and all the feelings I was trying not to experience come rushing at me.
“I don’t actually know,” I tell her.
She frowns, looking toward me.
“Watch out!” I say, holding the dash as she comes to a stop, narrowly missing rear-ending the stopped line of cars in front of us.
If we make it to her home, I’m never getting in this banana-colored death trap again. Someone should really take her license.
“What do you mean, you don’t know? I assume he got you in this mess?” She pointedly looks at my outfit and then raises her eyebrows before returning her eyes to the road.
As soon as the light in front of us is green, she’s off again, and the force of her acceleration sucks me backward on the seat.
“No, I got myself into it. And I’m not even sure if he’s still alive. He won’t be coming after me if he is.” I’m using my terror of Miss Lulah’s driving to keep the tears at bay while I finally grasp the concept that Connor could be dead right now and I’m running from the most dangerous man in Chicago.
“He’s alive. I can feel it,” Miss Lulah says.
I jerk my head to look at her. She wears a serene smile on her face.
“How do you know?”
