I didn’t have time to think about that, though.
I rushed through my room, grabbing clothes, toiletries, medication, chargers, and electronics. Then, when I was sure I had everything I would need to survive for a few days—minus my insulin, which I’d have to figure out as soon as possible—I started gathering Sugar’s favorite toys, her treats, food, and bowls.
“This is a lot,” I declared, looking at my pile of bags.
It was too much to carry.
And I had no car.
“Okay, baby. We’re going to stash all this in our unit until the morning.”
It was too late to find a car of any sort.
We were going to need to lie low until an appropriate hour.
With that, we took several trips down to the unit, then started on a careful walk toward town. And the twenty-four-hour coffee shop there.
I got a table in the back, and I ordered half-caf coffee after half-caf coffee—black, since I had no way to regulate my sugar aside from my daily slow-acting medication.
Sugar slept at my feet.
I stared out the window, watching the night shift toward day, and thought.
The car solution came to me easily enough.
I needed a place for Sugar and our things. But also my bike, since there was no way I could leave that behind.
I was going to rent a moving truck.
To go where was the question.
I had a decent amount of money. But I wasn’t sure where to go. Or if I was going to get someone else to agree to renting to me when I didn’t have a current job.
There were long-stay motels.
Not ideal.
Almost always dirty.
Sometimes full of creeps.
But I could make do.
Get a job to sock away some more money.
It was going to set back my revenge plans.
Then again, those weren’t going to move forward very easily now that they were onto me. And that they’d screwed around with another club.
I straightened at that.
The other club.
They had to be pissed off at Roach and his guys.
Someone had tried to murder one of them.
They had to retaliate, right?
