Clearing my throat, my voice just above a whisper, “Yes. Please don’t worry about it.”
He doesn’t take his hand off my hip and I can feel his eyes burning a hole into the side of my face. I refuse to look at him and wait a few moments before I push his hand down and walk on. There is a sigh behind me and in a few more steps, he’s next to me again.
On the way back to the ranch, Mason pulls into the gas station across from the horse track, “I need gas, do you need anything?”
My mouth is dry from what seems like a heavy cloud ofemotion hanging over me and not talking for the last hour. “I’m thirsty, I’ll go in while you pump.”
Thoughts of every kind crowd my head as I walk into the small store, it’s an older building, and it’s obvious it’s been here as long as the horse track. The refrigerated section is against the back wall and is not very big, so I stand there for a minute looking for my usual papaya green tea, but I don’t see anything but soda and iced coffee.
“Sloane?”
My heart jumps into my throat at the sound of that voice, a cool frost settles over me making my hair stand on end, and my hands start shaking. Slowly I turn around and see Austin standing at the end of the food rack, my heart is beating so hard and so fast that it sounds like I am under water.
The sudden rush of blood and adrenaline almost makes me dizzy and I reach out to touch the food rack next to me.
His eyes narrow and I can see the hatred in his eyes, his voice is muffled behind the blood rushing in my ears when he says, “People have been looking for you.”
I take a step back and he takes a step forward, of course he would be where any type of gambling is happening. The way out of the store is behind him, and I look around to calculate every possible escape plan.
He chuckles and my eyes snap back to him, “Oh, no you don’t, you won’t get away this time.”
Swallowing around my heart in my throat, I choke down the sob that is trying to make me break down and try to calm myself. I just have to get out the door and walk to Mason’s truck, Austin won’t chase me or try to grab me with an audience.
Right?
I’m gambling that Mason won’t let him.
I take another step back, but Austin takes a step toward me for each step I take to back away from him. When I get tothe end of the food rack, I turn and walk as fast as I can up the next aisle to the door.
“Fuck.” Austin curses under his breath.
I don’t look back; I do the fast walk, run-a-step combo up the aisle to the door, his footfalls behind me. When I burst through the door, the cold air hits me in the face and I quickly step off the curb so I can get to Mason’s truck, I try to be as casual as possible because I don’t want him to see Austin chasing me.
I’m also gambling that Austin won’t touch me out in the open. There are other people at the pumps and cars line the front of the store. Almost like he can sense me, Mason looks over his shoulder at me as he secures the pump back in its cradle.
His eyebrows knit together as he looks over my face and I try to hide the fear he is probably seeing, but I can’t hide the short breaths that are puffing out in front of me in the cold air, then his gaze moves over my shoulder and his eyes narrow. In a split second, I see him transform, he goes from the easygoing Mason that I see every day to a hardass warrior that seems to grow in size in front of my eyes.
The look on his face is lethal and his hands curl into fists at his sides.
I reach the front of the truck just as Mason rounds the fender to meet me, he grabs my hand, surprisingly his touch is gentle even though his face is hard as stone, and pulls me next to him, “Get in the truck and lock the doors.” His eyes are on Austin, his body taunt and ready to fight.
When I shut the door, I click the lock button and look out the front window. Austin is backing away as he looks at Mason, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and just as he holds it up to his ear he looks at me and smiles before he goes back into the store.
Tapping my fingers against my lips as I keep watch on thefront doors of the store, I forget that I locked the truck doors. Tapping on the window pulls me out of my panic and I jump. I look over and Mason is standing at the locked door, his hand on the handle.
Shit.
Pushing the unlock button with shaking fingers, I try to think of what I’m going to tell him, still keeping my eyes on the front of the store. Austin was calling someone, we need to get out of here.
I’m a horrible liar, I have to keep it as close to the truth as possible. After he gets in the driver’s seat and shuts the door, he turns to look at me.
“Who was that?”
Turning my head toward him for a second before I look for Austin at the store again, I think of the first thing that might be believable and close to the truth, “That’s my brother and I owe him money.”
Technically, I don’t really owe him money, but he is associated with the people who are out a large sum because I ran.
He doesn’t move to start the truck and I’m buzzing with the fear of them showing up here. I can’t get a read on him, he’s schooled his features to betray nothing as he looks over my face.
