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“Well, fresh clothes.” She looked up and down my bloodied, half-naked body. “At least for me. Cash. An alternate ID, with credit cards and a driver’s license. A vehicle with a full tank of gas. And a gun.”
That made me sit up and take notice. “A gun? Just one? With ammo?”
“Of course there’s ammo. Yes, just one. A Glock 19. Better than nothing.”
“Could we get trapped up there? Is there more than one way out?”
“There is a back way. I picked the place out on purpose for that. We could follow a rough dirt road across the plateau, and hook up with a road that goes down into the next valley over.”
Huh. It did sound like she’d thought it through, and the prospect of a loaded gun was fucking irresistible to me. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”
Easier said than done. She tried to help me out of the back, but my legs gave out when I tried to stand, and I almost knocked her down. We steadied each other, leaning against the van. She felt strong, lithe, vibrant. Those long, tangled red curls blowing across her face. So pretty. Those incredible bright green eyes.
“You’re freezing, from lying next to that stupid ice sculpture. Hold on.” She shrugged off the blue windbreaker that hung around her slim shoulders, and started wrestling it onto me. I tried not to stare at her freckled little tits, dangerously close to popping out of the corset top. “What’s the story with this jacket?” I asked. “Where did you get it?”
“Swiped it off one of the ice sculpture guys. Come on, let’s get it onto you.”
I felt so thick, clumsy. I hadn’t worn anything on my upper body since the Vincent and Nicole days, and even then it had been a bloody, sweat-stained tee-shirt. The thing was too small. It twisted and pulled.
“Get into the van,” she urged. “Hurry.”
She nudged me toward the passenger side door. I was having trouble breathing. The sky was fucking huge. Too much light, too much oxygen. The colors, the smells, the moving air. It was going to my head. Making me dizzy, queasy.
She pulled open the passenger side door, pushed me until I climbed in. Even just sitting in a car seat felt... fuck. So normal. Like a real, regular person.
Red got into the driver’s seat, put the van in gear, and we bounced and jounced on the dirt road, climbing until we met a narrow highway. Picking up speed.
I might have signed my own death warrant, believing this girl. Falling for her pleading wiles. But I’d be dead without her for sure. So fuck it.
Watching a gorgeous redhead in a strapless ball gown speeding down the highway like a post-apocalyptic road warrior… damn.
If these moments were to be my final moments, at least they’d be badass.
CHAPTER10
Cass
Iwas tongue-tied and shy as I drove. Overwhelmed with emotion. He’d actually taken pity on me and Reggie, after the hell he’d been through. And after I’d just done my absolute best to bully and coerce him, just like Halliwell and his spawn had done.
Admittedly, I hadn’t been all that convincing, but still.
Shane Masters was impossible to bully, but I could probably inspire pity in a stone, in my current wretched state. Fine and good. My ego would have preferred to inspire fear and awe, but results were what mattered. And I was disadvantaged in every possible way. For fuck’s sake, I was deliberately costumed as a damsel in distress.
Reggie’s fate was in someone else’s hands now. They would either act on my rushed, spotty, incomplete info, or they would not. And there was nothing I could do about it. I’d played every card, exhausted every idea. I was in no condition to mount an attack on the Cascade Clinic myself, unarmed, dressed in a blood-spattered ball gown and kitten heels. Besides, the place was hours away from me by car.
Halliwell had to know we were gone by now. The anxiety was driving me wild.
I sneaked a glance at him. Shane looked strange, with the blue windbreaker I’d swiped from the ice sculpture guy straining over his broad shoulders. His blood-stiffened hair stuck out every which way, his lacerated neck looked awful. He needed disinfectant ointment, bandages, clothing, shoes, antibiotics, fluids, a decent meal. There was no end to what he needed. And yet, he sat there, calmly taking it all in. Tough as nails.
He shot me a frowning glance. “Eyes on the road, Red.”
“My name is Cass, by the way.” I told him. “Cass Clarke.”
“Okay. Good to know.”
We were in the woods now. The road was very rough. The van with its massive load of a ton of ice and the heavy melt mechanism and tank beneath it lurched and wallowed in the muddy road, which was wet from the recent heavy rain. “It’s not far,” I told him. “Just a few miles.”
“You really think we’re better off stopping rather than moving,” he said.
