I blamed the exhaustion on the fact that I burst out laughing. Jude cracked a smile as he relaxed in the driver’s seat.
“You know, I don’t think kidnapping your mark instead of killing her is going to get you that promotion to upper management.”
Jude’s eyes fell away from the road for a split second. His exhaustion was brief but very present. “If we make it out, I’m retiring.”
“I don’t think the mob would be too keen on people retiring.”
“They’re not. The severance packages suck. Retirement packages . . . those suck even more.”
A distinct heaviness filled the cab of the truck. I didn’t know how long Jude had been awake, but exhaustion crept through my veins the same way the chloroform had flooded my lungs. He had to be feeling it too.
“Where are we going, Jude?” I asked, tacking on his name to keep it personal. The more we saw each other as people, the more we’d trust each other.
Or maybe the more likely it was that he wouldn’t decide to cut his losses and leave me behind—or worse.
We passed two exits by the time he finally answered. “West Virginia. There’s a safe house out there. It’s not fancy, but it’s prepared.” He tipped his head toward the floorboard on my side. “I’ll find you some shoes.”
“Where is the safe house that Cole is taking Joel to?”
“I don’t know,” Jude said. I had a hunch that he wasn’t being evasive. Jude was tough to read, but I had a feeling he was telling the truth. “Sometimes it’s better not to know.”
“Why?” I croaked. “He’s . . . he’s safe, right?”
Jude swallowed and worked his hand down the side of his beard. “Someone can’t extract information from you that you truly don’t know.” He reached over and squeezed my hand. “So if I don’t tell you something, trust that I’m doing that to keep you safe.”
I wanted to cry the moment he let go. My eyes burned. My throat cinched like a belt. My skin prickled with pent-up electricity. My breath came in short gasps.
But the tears never happened.
“I know you’re scared,” Jude said softly. “I know you don’t trust me.” He squeezed the steering wheel again. “But we’re going to lay low for a little while and then figure out a way out of this.”
All I could do was nod.
Jude craned down, reached into the bag, pulled out a zip-up jacket, and handed it to me. “Try to get some sleep.”
15
JUDAH
Friday, May 23 | 6:41 a.m.
My shoulder hurt like a bitch. My bicep was numb, and every tendon and nerve down to my fingertips stung.
But Amelia was asleep on my arm, so I wasn’t fucking moving.
She had, reluctantly, fallen asleep against the door while using the jacket I kept in my go bag as a blanket. Somewhere around the dip into Northern Virginia, she had shifted over to rest her head on my arm.
I knew she was exhausted and probably still felt the waves of sickness that came and went after inhaling chloroform. Frankly, it made her little escape attempt at the gas station all the more impressive.
The truck’s fuel gauge was dipping too low for comfort. I needed to pull off, gas up, and take a power nap if I wanted to make it the rest of the way without crashing.
And food.
We both needed something more solid than the single soda and bag of pretzels we’d shared.
Traveling with cash was tricky. On the upside, it meant no credit card transactions to clue others into our location. The downside was that it meant I had to go inside and interact with another human being who would see my face and be able to identify me.
Amelia and I didn’t exactly blend in. She was a lithe little sprite of a thing—gold-spun hair, big blue eyes, and a brilliant smile when she wasn’t threatening to run away from me. On the other hand, I was six and a half feet of overgrown hair, tattoos on every inch of exposed skin, and had been called “menacing” on more than one occasion.
