“I’m pulling over,” I rasp, my voice barely recognizable, my head spinning faster with every passing second.
I veer off the highway, the tires crunching over cracked asphalt and overgrown weeds. I don’t park in the front. I steer the truck around the side of the decaying building, hiding it behind a rusted dumpster and a row of dead oleander bushes.
I cut the engine and try to gather my wits.
“I think you’re dehydrated or something,” Rue squeaks out in a whisper.
I look over at her. She’s staring at me, her face pale beneath the dirt, her eyes filled with a terrifying mix of devotion and fear. I brought her into this hell, and right now, I don’t even have the strength to carry the bag inside.
She searches my face and then unclicks her seatbelt.
“I’ve got you,” she whispers, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Just sit tight. I’ll get us a room.”
“Remember to lie, Rue. Tell them it’s just you. Whatever the fuck it takes.”
She nods, planting a kiss on my cheek. “I will.”
And with that, she slips out of the truck.
54
RUE
The deadbolt slidesinto place with a heavythunk.
That was too easy.The man behind the counter didn’t even freaking ask me a single question, and apparently, cash is a very acceptable payment method.
I lean my forehead against the cheap veneer of the motel door, listening to the silence of the room. Behind me, the springs of the mattress groan. By the time I turn around, Noah is already out. He didn’t even take off his boots. He just collapsed face-down on the faded bedspread, his exhaustion pulling him instantly into a dark, heavy sleep.
The worry creeps into my chest, and I go for one of the paper cups, take it to the sink, and fill it. It’s probably shitty water. But Iknowhe needs it.
I set it down beside him and pull the heavy blackout curtains shut, sealing us inside the stale, cigarette-scented air. My skin is coated in a fine layer of red dust from the mine, my muscles trembling from the adrenaline comedown, but I know I can’t sleep.
There’s no freaking way.
“Noah,” I take a seat beside him, nudging his arm. “You need to drink water.”
He groans in protest, but I keep jabbing him, desperate to wake him up.
“We have to be in our best shape, and I have no idea how fucking close we are to Maricopa.”
“I don’t know,” he mutters, finally rolling over to peer up at me. His pale blue eyes are painfully bloodshot, probably from the dust. “But we’ll figure it out once we rest.”
“We could be swarmed with cops at any moment.”
“We could,” he breathes out. “But how are they going to know we’re here?”
I blink. “The same way they’ve tracked us all this way.”
“True,” he sighs, taking the cup from me.
My lips press together as I watch him down the water. “You’re really dehydrated.”
“I know,” he mumbles, dropping back and covering his eyes. “I just need to drink a ton of water and get some sleep, then I’ll be good to go.”
I refill his water and then bring it back, setting it down on the nightstand beside him. “It feels like it’s all just getting worse.”
“What is?” He takes a sip.
