She sprinted down the hall, Sam and Lachlan on her heels.
THREE
Gina, present day
The sun was hot but the desert air cool the next day when Gina pulled up to the low, flat building and its cactus-shaped neon sign. She and Fleur would look different by the time they left, which might make the desk person look twice, but it was a risk Gina had to take. She checked in and went straight to her room. Gina was starving and the diner across the street smelled greasy and good, but the fewer people who saw her the better. She unpacked only what she needed from the go-bag—a couple of energy bars, Fleur’s food, and plant-based doggie hair dye she’d mixed up at home from sweet potatoes and blueberries.
After a quick, unsatisfying breakfast, she got to work dying Fleur’s fur. Her girl was not happy about the process. When Gina was done, Fleur had new dark markings over her ginger fur, making her look like she had plenty of German Shepherd in her. It wouldn’t last forever but would get them through the next part of their journey.
She hoped.
Gina felt her gut clench with uncertainty, an unfamiliar, unpleasant feeling.What is wrong with me? How many times have I needed to run, to hide? Why is this any different?
But of course it was different. This time, she was leaving the ones she loved behind.
This time, she had friends. Real ones, who cared about her.
She had Lachlan in her life, the way it should have always been.
And now she was sacrificing all of it to keep them out of harm’s way. And to figure out how to survive this mess.
Gina fought the temptation to pick up her phone and contact Lach, let him know where she was and ask him to come to her. Just turn his back on everything they’d built and disappear together.
How selfish would that be?
Because she knew he would say yes.
None of them could know where she was or where she was going. It was too dangerous. Gina would rather die herself than put any of them into danger saving her sorry ass. She tried to frame it the way she always did after a mission.Walk away, don’t look back, it’s over.
But she didn’t want to do that this time. She wanted to go out with Elissa, Rachael, Elena, Jordan, Annalie, and Samantha. She wanted to gossip at another Bette’s Backyard Bash while eating a cheeseburger perfectly grilled by Grant.
More than anything else, she wanted to feel Lach’s lips on hers. Feel his arms around her, pulling her body against his while he nuzzled in her hair and told her everything would be all right.
Because Lach saw her—really saw her. The woman inside who wasn’t always calculating her next move. Who didn’t always have all the answers. Who was nervous around people she considered actual friends, afraid to do or say the wrong thing, be less than poised and perfect. He knew she could be an emotional wreck underneath the cool façade, and that sometimes she was scared to death.
And he still respected her.
Still loved her.
Gina picked her phone up. Then put it back down and picked up a box of hair dye and a pair of scissors instead. An hour later, she didn’t recognize herself in the mirror.
* * *
Gina woke early the next morning. Fleur was curled up next to her on the hotel bed. The dog raised her head and yawned loudly. Then she watched Gina go through her usual morning ritual. Gina picked up a pen off the nightstand. She wasn’t supposed to have tattoos. No identifying marks, like SEALs in the old days. So she drew them on each morning, which was almost better than having tattoos. Taking time to draw them created a practice, a chance to renew her resolve at the beginning of every single day.
She opened her right arm, exposing the softest skin hidden at her side. She drew a perfect circle with a dot in the center on the inside of her upper arm. Then she did the same to her other arm. The circles were an ancient symbol for the sun. For the highest, purest goal one could reach.
When Gina was done drawing them, she said her usual prayer.
God grant my arms the strength to touch the sun today.
After that, she drew a tiny lemon on the inside of her left ankle, a faint, fond smile on her lips.
To Gina’s relief, a different receptionist waited behind the desk when she checked out of the motel. One less thing to explain away or worry about. Her stomach grumbled when she went outside and smelled the greasy spoon again, its chrome and faded paint beckoning from across the street. Even Fleur looked up at her and gave a little tug on her leash.
“Fine,” she mumbled. The parking lot was practically empty. She’d go in, order a burger and fries for herself and Fleur to eat there and a second meal for the road, and be on her way.
“Sit anywhere, hun,” the waitress behind the counter said as the bell above the door dinged when they walked in. The dining room was blessedly empty.
