I can’t help a scoffing laugh. “Great! Thanks for the heads-up.”
He suddenly smashes his fist on the dash. I flinch and gasp, pressing my back against the door.
Turning to me with a look I can only describe as desperate, he yells, “Look, do you think I want to do this? I’m out of options, okay? So please, just get the hell out of the car and let me do what I need to!”
I can’t move for a second.
I’m too entranced by that look on his face.
Anguish. It’s raw and miserable, like he’s bleeding despair but doesn’t know how to stop it.
This guy’s got a backstory, and probably a pretty heinous one.
Right now, he could be cocking his gun and pressing it against my forehead.
Shit, he could kill me if he wanted to and get exactly what he needs without a fight.
But he’s not doing that.
He’s apologizing for stealing from me. He’s giving me a chance to live.
Reaching into the back, I pull my computer bag off the back seat.
My fingers are shaking, but I manage to extract my wallet from the front and pull out a wad of cash. I reserve some for myself and give him a few hundred. That should be enough to help him.
I hold it out and he stares at it for a moment. “You carry a lot of cash.”
I nod but don’t know how to explain myself.
Thankfully he doesn’t press for more, just looks at me like I’m the weirdest girl he’s ever met.
Well, maybe I am.
“My phone’s there.” I point to a slot underneath the stereo, where my phone is plugged in with an audio jack. I nearly ask him not to mess with any of my playlists. If he wants to listen to music, he can…
The thought dribbles away before I can finish it.
I’ll never be getting my phone back. Who gives a shit about playlists?
I’m about to step out of this car alive. It puts things into perspective in a whole new way.
I swallow, the sound thick and awkward, then open the door and stumble out of it.
Dry dust coats my boots as I slam the door shut behind me.
Deeks climbs over the middle and into the front seat, wincing and hissing like the movement is painful. Getting settled behind the wheel, he rests his wrist on top of it and just looks at me for a few moments.
I gaze back, locked in place by those green eyes of his.
There’s something about them that makes my heart hurt.
Fighting the breeze, I tuck the hair blowing into my face behind my ears and watch dirt spit out from the back tires as he revs the engine and takes off.
Everything is suddenly silent. I do a slow spin, wondering what the hell I’m going to do with the rest of my day.
All my stuff was in that car.
I mean, I salvaged the most important things—my computer and my wallet.
But still. It’s kind of weird not having anything else.
Rubbing my arm, I shuffle toward the picnic table and stare out at the lake. It’s not a huge one. There’s a pontoon in the middle, and I think I spy a pier jutting out on the right-hand side. I imagine the forest beyond gets a lot of hikers during the height of summer, and the water is no doubt a wonderful swimming pool.
I shudder and cross my arms tight, turning my back on the lake and slumping down at the wooden picnic table.
It’s lonely and quiet out here.
Not that I mind.
I’ve always liked my own company—although this feels different.
It’s too quiet, with no music or internet to keep me entertained.
Picking at the grooves and notches in the table, I stare down at my black-painted nails. The one on my forefinger is chipping, and I need to touch up my left thumbnail as well.
But I can’t.
My nail polish is in the car that just drove away.
What am I going to do now?
Remorse tickles the back of my brain. Is this some kind of karma—absolute proof that I shouldn’t have run away?
Argh! I don’t want to think that.
I was justified! I couldn’t do life like that anymore!
But you can do life like this?
You just got freaking carjacked and dumped at a rest stop! Now you’re homeless, phone-less and car-less!
Smashing my fist onto the table, I look up at the sky and resist the urge to scream. The sun is beating down on me, but gray clouds are starting to roll in from the west. It could rain later. I would check my weather app, but I don’t have a phone, and there’s probably no reception out here anyway.
“Just get walking,” I mutter, then quickly spit back, “Which way?” Throwing my arms out, I let my voice rise. I’m on my own, after all, and you’re not crazy if you talk to yourself when no one else is around, right?
“Get your butt up and walk! It’s not rocket science! Head one way, and if you have no luck, turn around and head the other.”
I huff and stand, wondering about the whole hitchhiking thing.
Dad always warned me against it.
He didn’t want his precious baby girl getting turned into someone’s hostage.
I laugh, the hysterical sound out of place in this quiet nature.
“I was taken hostage. And I wasn’t even hitchhiking!” I laugh again and shake my head.
I should be walking to a police station to report this, but…
Is it wrong that a small part of me doesn’t want to be free?
Like, a teeny-tiny part almost wants to be back in the car with Deeks, figuring him out a little more, hearing about his crisis and… I don’t know… maybe helping him.
That thought shouldn’t intrigue or entice me like it does.
I am seriously out of my frickin’ mind!
“Just walk, Kena!”
I’m about to head left when the sound of a car approaching stops me.
Music is blasting out of it, and I hear the heavy beat before I see the car. My chest expands, grateful my ordeal is over faster than I thought it’d be. I’m sure whoever is coming won’t mind giving me a lift to a gas station or something. There’s bound to be one around here.
Turning to face the road, I listen to the car approaching, my gut only twisting when I see how quickly it pulls into the rest stop. Dust billows up from the tires, the old Ford jerking to a stop. It’s one of those cars that’s been lowered and probably had more money spent on doing it up than what it’s actually worth. The puffs of smoke coming out of the window tell me this rest stop is gonna be used for a quick “get high” session before these idiots hit the road again.
Yep, asking them for help’s a big no-go. It’s definitely time for me to split.
I adjust my bag so I can hug my precious cargo like a teddy bear and start hustling away.
Feeling eyes on me, I stupidly glance over my shoulder, my gut plummeting when all the doors pop open and a group of big-ass guys gets out of the car. Their glinting stares freeze me in my tracks.
Yeah, this isn’t good.
This is very not good.
12
Wisdom by an Orange Sky
The rest stop disappears in the rearview mirror, along with Kena.
Damn, I want a cigarette.
My hand shakes as I try to wrestle the pack out of my jacket pocket.
This itching in my chest is driving me nuts. I need some nicotine. Or maybe I just need to beat the shit out of something.