“No? Well, call the cops, then. Though I’d really like to catch the guy who stole it myself.”
Shit.Harper, did you honestly go on the run from a guywithhis stolen car? I’d suspected the guy had more beauty than brains, but wow. “Sheriff’s office is about four blocks that way if you want to report it stolen.”
“Like I said, I’d rather catch the thief myself. Speakin’ of, you wouldn’t happen to know which room the driver’s checked into, would ya? Since you’re so sure this car ain’t mine, ya must have seen him.”
“Couple of days ago. Not since,” I lied, turning to face the motel. “One of those two, I think.” I gestured to two of the ground-floor rooms, well away from Harper’s and mine.
“Hmm.” He made a pensive noise as his eyes tracked over the two units I’d pointed out. “Thank you kindly.”
That was it. He just stood there, waiting for me to speak again or move along, and my mind was fucking blank with panic. I didn’t want to walk away and leave Harper alone, but going back up to my room would be too suspicious.
I nodded once, curtly, and continued walking. The weight of his gaze followed me until I was out of view from the lot. When I was sure he couldn’t see me anymore, I pulled my phone from my pocket and continued on my way as fast as possible to the grocery store. I pulled up the social media accounts for Harper Lorens and quickly requested to friend him on all the ones I could find.
Of course, my account was a ghost account. I created new ones all the time, and my current accounts belonged to Rick Smith. Harper wasn’t going to know who the fuck that was, but I hoped with as many friends as he had he was the type to just blindly accept requests.
I paced the bread aisle as I kept rapidly refreshing the page, waiting for him to accept.
He wasn’t accepting.
I typed out a message quickly and sent it off, hoping to whatever gods or forces of nature landed us here that they’d cut us a fucking break and not let the message get lost in some void of spam messages.
Time passed with no response. No notifications. I cursed myself for not just getting his number when we had the chance, but the whole “form no connections” rule I had in place had prevented me from giving him my number when he’d asked. He’d been slightly offended and hadn’t tried to hide it, but I’d just told him it was nothing personal, given him a free shot, and after ten minutes of silent treatment he got past it and talked again like nothing had happened.
Stupid, Jonah. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.
The cashier was giving me weird looks now, so I paid for what I’d originally intended to buy and started on my way back to the motel.
When I got there, Benny was gone, and Harper’s car was still parked in the lot.
I looked around, searching for any sign of the freakishly large man before I took the stairs two at a time and went straight for Harper’s door, knocking furiously.
There was no response. I tried the handle. Locked.
I swear to god, Harper, if you’ve gotten yourself abducted by your ex—yourprofessional fighterex—I’m going to be so pissed at you.
I retreated into my room, keeping the window open as I stood by it, chain-smoking and listening for the slightest sounds or movements that would indicatesomething. My fingers traced over the engraved floral and leaf patterns on the old lighter. I usually foundit calming, but there was little that would ease my anxiety at the moment with so much unknown.
If Benny had Harper, his car probably wouldn’t still be here, right?
I couldn’t remember if there’d been another car in the lot along with the MMA fighter because he’d taken up all of my attention. I just had to hope.
With nothing else to do but stew in my anxiety, I decided to head in to work as scheduled, hoping that maybe at least someone there, in this town full of gossips, had heard something of fucking value for once.
Two hours into my shift, and there was nothing. No news. No gossip. No Benny. No Harper. It was the one time I wished Hank was here, because at least that old bigot kept up with whatever the fuck was going on in this piece of shit town.
There were only the regulars here, but I was extra jumpy at every sudden noise and movement, constantly scanning the clouded windows for familiar shapes outside.
It took another hour before the door opened, and my breath left my lungs in a dizzying rush when a face I’d hoped I wouldn’t see again so soon came into view.
Benny smiled at me again, that same perfectly punchable smile. It was a wonder the guy had any teeth left with how often people must want to punch him, and with his former career. Then again, they were too white to be natural, much like Harpers. Fucking rich people and their freakishly white teeth.
The giant approached the bar, and it was a miracle the glass in my hand didn’t shatter with how tightly I was gripping it.
“Hello again,” he said pleasantly, like we were old friends.
I nodded. “Drink?”
“Whiskey, thanks. Macallan twelve if ya got it.”
