“That bad?”
She looked at me with genuine pity. “It’s a miracle you made it.”
I unlocked the truck. Bandit launched himself against the passenger window like a demon in fur.
Savannah stopped cold. “That’s the cat?”
Bandit hissed.
I dropped the bacon through the cracked window first, then the burger scraps. Instant silence. Food fixed everything. Momentarily. I poured fresh water into his bowl while Savannah leaned closer, studying him through the glass.
“That thing hates you.”
“Mutual.”
Bandit looked up, chewing.
Savannah straightened. “You’re not making that drive tonight.”
I leaned against the truck. “Says who?”
She tossed my keys once in the air. “Me.”
“And why exactly should I listen?”
She looked over the truck with painful accuracy. Steam still curled faintly from under the hood. One tire looked suspiciously low. The back end sat heavy from everything I owned tied under tarps. My objection withered before it reached my mouth.
“You’d break down before midnight,” she said.
I looked at the truck.
Probably.
Her voice softened. “We’ll get you an escort tomorrow.”
I frowned. “An escort?”
Savannah laughed. “Not that kind.” She nodded toward the bar. “Trust me. Don’t fight Regan.”
“Why?”
“She’s got a thing for strays.”
Her eyes slid to the truck, then Bandit, then me.
I narrowed mine. “Did you just compare me to the cat?”
She smiled. “If the shoe fits.”
I looked toward the bar. Then at the truck. Then at Bandit, who had already forgiven me because bacon existed. My options were not impressive: keep driving in a questionable truck with a nearly dead phone and a feral cat, or follow a group of heavily accessorized women who laughed like trouble and moved like a small army.
Savannah leaned closer. “You’ll be safe.”
Then she added, “And no, we’re not lesbians.”
I laughed despite myself. “Good to know.”
“We’re all taken.” Her grin turned wicked. “And our protection?”
