"Yeah, I guess we should."
But neither of us moves, preferring to just sit here, wrapped around each other, breathing in sync.
Finally, he shifts me back to the passenger seat and we dress quickly. He starts the van and pulls back onto the highway as the adrenaline starts to fade, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.
"You okay?" he asks after a few miles.
"Yeah." I look at him, at the blood still drying on his knuckles, at the firm line of his mouth. "Are you?"
"I’ve never been more okay in my life."
“Me too,” I say, smiling, the post orgasm warmth washing over me, making me sleepy.
We drive in silence for a while, the highway stretching out ahead of us. I take comfort knowing that behind us, Lisa is safe, along with any other women that man abused. Carl is gone and soon he will be found, along with everything on his phone, and his wife will see she was actually married to a stranger.
And somewhere ahead of us is the rest of our lives.
"How long can we do this?" I ask finally.
Dom glances at me. "Do what?"
"This. Moving, surviving, handling people like Carl."
"As long as we need to."
"And when someone comes looking for us?"
"Then we handle that too."
His hand finds my leg again, that possessive touch I've come to crave, and I cover it with mine.
"Together," I say.
"Together."
The word seals us together like a promise, and I lean my head against the window, watching the road blur past.
We're dangerous together. More dangerous than either of us would be alone. And maybe that should concern me, the knowledge that we're capable of this, that we'll do it again, that we're building a trail of bodies that will inevitably have consequences.
But it doesn't.
Because for the first time in my life, I have someone.
I have him. And he has me. And that's the only truth that matters.
CHAPTER NINE
DOM
It’s been three days since the small town, and I'm counting surveillance cameras.
Gas station, two outside, one inside pointed at the register. Motel parking lot, none visible, but that doesn't mean they're not there. Highway rest stop, state-funded, which means cameras at every entrance, every bathroom, every vending machine.
I'm cataloging exits, memorizing license plates, watching for patterns in the traffic flow. The paranoia isn't new, I've always been aware, always watching, but now it has teeth. Now it matters.
Because now we're not just two people moving through the world. We're wanted.
Lisa saw us. Carl's body will be found. Fuck, it probably already has been. And somewhere, in some police station in some small town we'll never go back to, someone is putting together a timeline with witnesses and evidence. A trail we left behind because we were too focused on chasing the high to think about the aftermath. I guess they might connect it to the drunk guy at the bar, even though the update on that is that the police still have no leads.
