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We hang up a moment later, and I take the exit for the next town. The second official stop I’ve made during this getaway. The first was too close to home, and my brother’s big mouth led my ex straight for me. Not that it amounted to anything, but I don’t want to be found. I don’t want to become a charity case. Not when he was abundantly clear that he needs a clean break. I’ve crossed several states and half the continental United States to get far enough away.
I glance over to Ghost on my passenger seat and give her a gentle nudge to alert her. The white pittie startles and bobs her snout in the air a few times before pushing it into my hand.
“Bet you’re ready for a break, huh?” Her wet nose nudges me when I stop stroking. She’s not an official therapy dog, but the effect is the same. Petting her short fur brings an instant comfort unlike anything else.
Across an open field, a wide white sign of a truck stop and convenience store catches my eye. The parking lot has an abundance of light posts. As long as they turn on at night, it’ll be well lit and as safe as anywhere else. With Ghost’s presence and my Bowie knife in my driver’s door compartment, I’m as equipped as I’ll ever be for spending indefinite nights in my car.
I pull in near the back of the lot a couple of spaces away from another vehicle. There’s nothing creepier than trying to sleep in a car with another next to it. I’ve also learned not to park in the farthest corner. The creeps and weirdos tend to emerge with the shadows.
“Be right back.” I climb out into the late spring sun and wait for Ghost to lower her head back to the seat. Ignoring the feeling of eyes on my back, I cross the parking lot and enter the convenience store. A few snacks are in order for dinner and fresh water for Ghost. Tomorrow, I’ll start the online search for clients and find a grocery store to stock up my ex’s industrial-strength cooler that stays cold for days at a time. So what if I stole it in my haste to leave? I’m sure he can buy another. Or I’ll tell Eric to buy him one for Christmas since they’ve remained friends.
Meandering down aisles lit by overhead fluorescent bulbs, I find a few cheap packs of beef jerky. Someone bumps into me from behind, steadying me with a hot palm between my shoulder blades.
“Sorry, darlin’.”
I stiffen and slow spin on a heel. The yellowed grin from the man does nothing for the constriction of discomfort tightening around my spine. Eyes overcast by bushy black brows slowly peruse me, and that grin transforms into one of interest.
“New around here?”
My throat bobs on a dry swallow. “Passing through,” I lie.
He takes a step back, nearly putting the entire width of the aisle between us. Both hands rise in surrender. “Relax. I’m Dan. You seem a little lost.”
I shake the bag of jerky in my hand, unaware of the brand or flavor. “Nope. I have what I need.”
“If I can point you anywhere around town, give me a holler. I’m pretty familiar.” His hands slide into the pockets of his jeans.
“Thanks.” I angle my torso back to the snacks in hopes the hint is clear. A few seconds later, the squeak of his shoes on the linoleum tells me he’s walking away. The memory flitters off a moment later. After selecting two sticks of pepper jack cheese and three bottles of water, I find my way back to the front counter to check out.
The kind and frail cashier sends me a friendly smile that I reciprocate without pause. If I’ve learned anything about people as of late, it’s that I never know what someone may be going through. A simple smile is the least I can do when I don’t have much else to give.
“Have a nice day.” I load my arms with the items and push open the door with my back. A warm breeze gusts my long tresses, and a tendril sticks to the corner of my mouth. With a turn of my head, I wipe it against my shoulder and immediately spot Dan leaning against the brick exterior. A gray cloud floats from the cherry-red tip of the cigarette dangling from his dry, cracked lips. The grease-stained navy-blue button-down encasing his torso and paunch relays the image of a mechanic or a trucker. One who enjoys greasy double cheeseburgers and a case of beer, if I had to guess.
Not that I’m one to judge with my own soft exterior.
He directs a chin lift in my direction. “You sure you don’t need a friend, darlin’?” The butt of his smoke drops to the concrete, and he twists it beneath the toe of his shoe.
I straighten and thrust my chin skyward. “I’ve been polite. If I wanted your help, I’d seek it.”
His gaze rakes grossly down my figure. “I bet you would.” His disdainful mutter tosses out red flags.
Nothing is more difficult than turning your back on a creep, but it’s my only option to escape. I have the stubbornness to stand in a staring match all day, but I promised Ghost a fresh drink and a bathroom break.
Wearing my confidence like a shield, I turn on a heel and march back across the parking lot.
“Fucking bitch,” he mutters behind me, the wind carrying his words farther than he probably intended.
A sigh of relief breaks free when I’m steps away from my temporary home. I bleep the locks as I approach, eager for the sense of safety to wash over me.
I dab at the mist of sweat dotting my forehead and yank open my door.
“Hey.”
The pleasing drawl and crunch of gravel capture my attention, but I’ve had enough of fending off weirdos for one day. A second one will be tolerated less than the first.
“What?” The one-eighty spin sends my fiery hair twirling around me.
Unprovoked by my attitude, the guy holds his hands up and rounds the hood of a black Jeep. With a flick of his eyes, he gestures to Dan. “He giving you trouble?”
