“You can’t hide.” Even his usually sonorous, deep voice is distorted into something animal-like. “I’ll find you. When I do, I’ll punish you.”
My fist is wedged in my mouth as I wake up, panting and terrified. Sliding off the bed, I crawl to the little window and peek outside, somehow fully expecting him to be standing there with his glowing eyes.
“Just a bad dream,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself. “No more bad dreams tonight.”
In the morning, Flora drives me to the cash app store, where the link sent to her phone can be transferred into cash. “Are ya sure about this?” she asks, eyeing the tiny store doubtfully. It’s really just a corner with a counter and a boatload of computers stuffed in a hipster-style coffee house. Dozens of twenty-somethings slouch at their tables, toying with their laptops and consuming endless mugs of coffee. It’s a nice place, with low wood beams overhead and lots of plants in the big, paned windows.
“It’ll be fine,” I look around us on the street, checking for anyone watching us, or suspiciously slow cars. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”
She cackles, “I’ll be buying my own drink, are ya remembering you’re broke?”
We’re walking up to the counter as I scout for exits to the bathroom or other doors to the outside. “This is true. How about if I buy you a scone after?”
She pats my shoulder. “Let’s get ya sorted.”
The hipster at the counter is scrolling through something on his laptop and he hastily shuts it as we approach. He was watching porn, then. He’s got a multitude of piercings and wears eyeliner like a pro. I can’t even get mine that straight.
“Aye?” he says crossly.
“Hi, we’re here to redeem a cash link?” I thrust Flora’s phone at him hopefully, still checking the door over my shoulder.
He eyes the phone like it’s a snake about to bite him. “Need some ID.”
With an impatient sigh, Flora slaps down her wallet, opens it to her driver’s license, and glares at him. While he goes through the steps with all the speed and enthusiasm of a eucalyptus-stoned sloth, I check the door again. Three girls wearing University of Glasgow sweatshirts stroll in, laughing and whispering to each other.
It’s okay.I try to soothe my pounding heart.We’re almost out of here.
The hipster is casually opening another window on his computer, taking a leisurely drink from his coffee mug.
“Look-” I force a smile, “if we could be quite quick, I’m late for my shift at work, and…”
“Aye,” he yawns, “on it.”
God, I want to punch him in the face.
I check the door again. No one comes in, a rumpled-looking businessman leaves with his traveling mug sloshing tea over the edge.
Sighing as if I’ve sent all the plagues of Egypt upon him, the hipster pulls Flora’s ID closer. “Here ya are…” He squints. “That’s a lot. I’m gonna have to access the vault.”
I feel like pounding my head against the counter. Flora gives him a sharp glare. “Well, get to it then!”
I hate this I hate this I hate this…The frantic little voice in my head keeps fretting and I try to shut it up. This is a gigantic city. The MacTavishes cannot be everywhere. I’m almost home free.Then on to Spain, maybe. Greece? The islands off the coast there are so beautiful… Maybe Morocco?
Our clerk is back, giving us a resentful expression as he slaps a cash envelope in front of us. “Count it here before ya leave,” he grouses, “no changes or refunds.”
My fingers are shaking and I drop a couple of bills, cursing myself and quickly starting over. I’m so involved in speeding through the count that the scent registers first.
Scotch and mint. Expensive cologne and clean cotton.
“Darling, I’ve been waiting for hours,” Ethan says in a fond, indulgent tone as his arm wraps around me like a steel vise. “Are ya all settled, then?”
My breath’s caught in my throat, strangling me. His mouth dips to my ear, “Dinna make a fuss.” Then I see his asshole cousin Michael, cold and expressionless and standing behind Flora, pulling back his jacket to show a giant pistol in his shoulder holster.
Mindlessly shoving the cash back into the envelope, I’m too loud and cheerful. “Sure am!”
His grip on my waist tightens as he steers me toward the door. Flora’s right behind us, shadowed by Michael, who’s subtly looming over her with his height and bulk. There’s a rattling sound and I realize it’s me, my hands are shaking so badly that it’s a miracle I haven’t dropped the money.
Once outside, Ethan half-lifts me with his arm, speedwalking toward a black SUV, waiting at the curb with the engine running.
