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He has no clue. Yes, most kids that age are Teflon. By third grade, Jacob had barely outgrown the extreme separation anxiety that plagued him—us—for the first years of his life. Anxiety sparked by his mother’s own crippling panic at, well, pretty much everything. I iron out my spine and snap. “You have no clue what I’ve been through, John Chavez!”
My rhetorical explosion rips through the car, stunning its dogged driver into silence.
John
I have more of an idea than she guesses. More and more she’s dropping tiny clues that hint at bigger things.
Giant, gut-wrenching things.
Don’t you dare judge my choices.
She didn’t have to say the words. I’m good with subtext. And If I’m right…
A sucker punch in the gut is what I deserve. I forgot there for a minute, forgot I couldn’t be Atilla with Hollie. Couldn’t press too hard. Her life and her decisions aren’t my business. She didn’t ask for my help.
She did ask, John.
Sure, once upon a time, but this isn’t the realm I was invited into.
I grip the wheel with one hand, clenching the other against my thigh. A thirst for blood parches my throat. Whose blood, I don’t know yet, but somewhere out there, there’s a lowlife who should be looking for cover
Chapter 26
Hollie
Stirring to wakefulness, I find myself alone.
Assuming I didn’t tick John off so badly that he abandoned me in what appears to be a roadside rest area, he’s somewhere nearby, probably in the brightly lit building that houses those dreadful bathrooms women avoid if there’s any possible way their bladder can hold out until civilization.
Thankfully, I used the restroom at the convenience store where we stopped for gas—I check my phone display—an hour ago, and I’ve barely touched the drink I purchased there.
I wait a full minute, and still no John.With the engine off, a chill is encroaching. I tuck my hands in the pocket of my hoodie. An entire wad of tissues, mostly used after my multiple crying jags, are in there.Ick.
There’s a trash barrel along the sidewalk under a small tree, a couple parking slots away. There’s no human is in sight, only a couple other parked cars and a trio of semis lined up along the drive.
The seatbelt clanks on the door as I throw it off. I head toward the trash can, the icky wad in my grip.
“Hi there.”
My hand freezes over the circular opening at the top of the barrel. A dark form appears from nowhere. The guy must have been loitering beneath the tree. In jeans and a denim jacket, he’s only my height but wide and burly.
“Hi.” Rote politeness takes over, yet I barely acknowledge his presence with my gaze. Releasing the tissues, I spin toward the car.
“You’re sure in a hurry.” A hand lands on my shoulder.
A shriek flies from my throat. The rush and swoosh of semis and other vehicles flying past on the freeway mingle with my screech, soundtracking the replay of my worst nightmare—which was no dream at all.
In a single instant, I’m transported through time.
“Hey!”A deep voice booms through the haze of panic.
John.His face thunders danger as he stalks us, a hero out of the night. “Take your hands off her!”
The man backs away, palms high. “Just being friendly. Geez.”
John’s fingers curl around my arm. I think he tells the man to do something not so nice. My brain is lodged in terror mode as he whirls us around and whisks us to the car. He yanks open the door and closes me in the vehicle, still eyeing the man and radiating fury.
My throat seizes into a tight mass and oxygen vanishes.
