Chapter Thirteen
Suds
“You should’ve woken me up sooner.” It must be close to ten as Sam steers us off the highway for breakfast.
“Don’t worry abouddit.” Smirking, she clears her throat.
“Sorry, I’m a little hoarse from all-night car karaoke.” She ain’t much of a singer but hell if her voice didn’t lull me to sleep. As long as I heard her singing, I knew all was good and no one was following us.
We both take a quick pit stop, then it’s my turn to drive. “We should arrive by tonight.”
“Thank God. My butt’s permanently asleep.” She jumps up and down, jiggling aforementioned malady and I grin until I remember she has a price on her head.
“Sugar?”I need to state some ground rules.
“Yeah?” When those big beautiful brown eyes stare back at me, blood runs south and like a man about to starve, I moan.
“Until we’re in the clear. We need to… rather I need to… keep to business.”
“Not following you, tough guy.” She orders us three egg-bacon-muffin sandwiches and four larges coffees then glances back at me.
“No sex.”
“None?” Her eyes go wide. “What if it takes months to figure this out?”
“I guess we got incentive.”
“Damn straight.” She blows air through her teeth and grabs the bag while I lift the tray of mugs.
“That’s my line.” One side of my mouth lifts as we settle back in the car. “But honey, there’s no one I’d rather be with on the lam.”
“Me too.” She smirks, stretches, and yawns. “I had a lot of time to think last night.”
“About us?” I waggle my brows.
“Youarecute when you snore, but no, about this case. For example, why did someone kill the drug dealer? He must’ve seen someone or done something he shouldn’t’ve. Also, I need to talk to the woman who warned me off.”
“Sure thing. First, we need to get to the rez.” I hold my breath as I put my spare coffee in the cup holder and open the other.
“As in reservation?” Her pretty jaw drops and I ignore how her voice goes up an octave.
“Uh-huh. We’ll be totally off the grid. Other than my tribe, only Slate and Lucky know about my cabin. We’ll be safe while we regroup.”
“Wait, wait. Hold on. You’re Native American? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“Never came up. Why?”Yeah, it’s a bit of an asshole evasive move but I hate talking about my past.
Sam slurps, her eyes studying me as I ease back onto the thruway. Then, she sighs loudly about ten miles down the road, and again after another dozen.
“Either say somethin’ or don’t. I dislike guessin’ games.” Maybe I’m a mite touchy on the subject but seems to me if she has a question, she should ask.
She glares at me and cops her city attitude. “Why the fuck would I want to say anything? By the way, when you speak with Slate, we need intel on the douchebag who broke into our apartment. Tell him to follow the money. And, if they found tracking devices in our clothes, they should search for serial numbers.” Her eyes droop and she yawns.
“You should sleep, sweetheart.”
“I’m not tired.” But she is and when she wakes, she needs to pee, so I pull over at the next truck stop.
I grab snacks as a TV announcer reports on the latest news.
