“A friend’s place.”
She nods. That’s it. No panic, no protests. Just trust. I don’t know what I did to earn it. I’m not sure I have. Maybe she’s just done fighting.
After a while, she speaks again, voice small but steady. “Jack? Your turn. Tell me about you.”
That one punches through my armor. I glance over at her, caught off guard. “Me?”
“Yeah. You kept asking about me yesterday, but you never told me anything about you. Not really. I know you like pasta. So it’s my turn. I want to know about you.”
I bark out a laugh, a little taken aback. “You don’t want to hear my story.”
She shrugs and pulls her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. “Uh, yeah, I do. I want to know everything. Why me? Why are you risking everything? I want to know… who you are, not just what you’ve done.”
The highway stretches out ahead. It’s almost hypnotic. I grip the wheel and let it all go.
“My family’s Irish. Came over in the sixties. Southie, Boston. My dad was a drunk, a real piece of shit. My mom tried to keep us together, but it was always just survival. I learned early that nobody gives you anything. You take it, or you go hungry.”
She listens, her big eyes never leaving my face.
“I started running with the wrong crowd at a young age, constantly getting into fights, breaking shit, whatever made me feel less powerless. O’Grady found me before juvie did. Gave me a job, showed me the ropes. Made me into what I am now.” I almost spit the words. “I never had a choice, not really. You get a reputation, and it sticks. You do what you have to.”
She’s silent for a minute, then asks, “Do you regret it?”
I stare straight ahead at the road, jaw clenched. “Not all of it. Some things, yeah. But if I hadn’t done what I did, I’d be dead, orworse. I did what I had to. I don’t regret meeting you. Even if it gets me killed.”
She reaches over, puts her hand on mine. Her touch is light, but it grounds me. I squeeze her fingers. “Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re anything like them,” she says softly. I want so badly to believe her, it hurts.
The rest of the drive is quiet. Trees, fields, and the endless gray sky now replace the city. My mind is running nonstop.What if O’Grady tracks us down? What if Trent gets hurt worse? What if I can’t keep her safe?I try to push it all aside and focus on the road, on Lennon beside me, the weight of her hand in mine.
7
JACK
“When will we stop?”
Sitting in the passenger seat, she has her feet up on the leather, her knees tucked close to her chest. She wraps her arms around them before resting her chin on top. Except for that surprising blow job yesterday, she’s been quiet and thoughtful.
“Do you mean today or in general?”
“I meant in general, when will we stop?”
“I wish I had an easy answer.” A flash of lightning in the distance catches my eye. “Right now, I’m more concerned about the storm brewing up ahead.”
We left at dawn, grabbed a couple of sandwiches and coffee at the nearest gas station, then hit the road again.
Where are we going? I have no idea. When will we stop? I can’t say.
There’s no imagining a time when the boss will get tired of looking for her. I could be at this for years.
The idea pisses me off. Not for myself, but for her. She deserves better than this. She also deserves better than a father who gets himself into deep with the wrong people and can’t bebothered to manage his problems. A father who lets things get to the point when, even after getting the shit kicked out of him twice, he still couldn’t keep himself away from the poker table. And the sports betting, and just about any kind of gambling he could manage.
She gasps when lightning lights up the early afternoon. It might as well be night, thanks to the heavy, dark clouds filling the sky.
“I’ll see if we can find somewhere to wait it out,” I offer. The wind is picking up, causing the trees on either side of the wide interstate to sway. It’s so strong that it’s trying to push the truck.
But that’s not what sits at the front of my mind.
That spot is taken by a black Mercedes on my tail.
