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SUTTON

What the hell had I done?

That same question replayed in my head like a merry-go-round that refused to end. The things I’d seen over the course of the last few weeks played on repeat in my brain as I rested my head against this cold window. I swore it was the only thing keeping my head somewhat upright after the hellish several hours I’d had.

The bus hummed beneath me as I watched the rain pick up once again. The water distorted the landscape that I should have been able to see out the window, turning it into something unrecognizable. Not that I would have been able to pick a thing out given how dark it had become outside.

But once again, what the hell had I done?

The question wasn’t rhetorical unfortunately. I genuinely needed to know what had happened since the last time I saw Cain. Had I killed him? The thought should have horrified me, but I couldn’t bring myself to go that far. Cain Ashcroft, billionaire extraordinaire, philanthropist, my… what exactly had he been to me?

Did our relationship status really matter in the grand scheme of things? Because I probably murdered a man tonight.

I clenched and then flexed my hand as I thought about how heavy the paperweight had been. I’d struck him with the full force of all my might and rage. Some might regret their actions seconds later, but the adrenaline was pumping through my body too hard to think of anything but getting out of there as quickly as possible. How I’d managed to get away without getting caught by security I’d never know and frankly, I didn’t want to find out.

I pulled back slightly to stare at my reflection and all I could see was a ghost of the woman I’d been just a few hours ago. I swear my face looked thinner, my gray eyes looked slightly too big for my face, but I wasn’t sure how that was possible given the small amount of time that had passed. Then again, it was fascinating how quickly life could change in the blink of an eye.

Sutton Prescott, the woman who had put together plans to protect companies from men like Cain Ashcroft, was now the woman who might have killed him.

I pulled the hood of my “INY” sweatshirt over my face as the bus slowed to make another stop. Three people boarded this escape vehicle and none of them looked my way. The tension that crept up every time the bus slowed down eased because I was paranoid enough to think that every stop was another chance for someone to board the bus and drag me out of it. As of now, invisibility was the biggest goal for me.

The bus began moving again, and I let my head rest against the cool window once more. No matter how this all ended, I knew I was screwed. If Cain was dead, I’d be a murderer. If he wasn’t, I’d be hunted by him to the ends of the earth. The bus hit a pothole and, as my head knocked against the window, I bit back a cuss word. The pain made my head throb but also cleared out the fog that had been sitting there since I fled Ashcroft Group. I needed to think like Sutton the strategist, not Sutton the fugitive.

I swallowed hard and forced myself to focus on the present. I was somewhere in Delaware now, according to the last sign I’d caught. It looked like I was in the middle of nowhere and that was precisely the point.

My phone had been the first thing I turned off, although I still had it with me. Yes, I’d considered tossing it out the window somewhere between New Jersey and here, but something stopped me. Call it sentiment, stupidity, or say it’s because I have too many important numbers in here that I might not get back, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Powered off, it was useless to anyone trying to ping its location to find out where I was. Powered on, it was basically a lighthouse.

But I kept it and called it a compromise between my own safety and pure paranoia. Having a burner phone did help ease the anxiety I felt but, to be honest, it wasn’t enough.

Cash was another matter altogether. I’d luckily had some cash on hand and then took some money out of an ATM during a longer break that we had on the ride down. In my desperation to get money, I’d forgotten that ATMs photographed faces and logged times, and that withdrawals left a trail. It was a rookie mistake and one I hoped wouldn’t bite me in the ass as I had to quickly adapt to this ever-changing situation. I checked to make sure the money, my phone, and some other odds and ends that I’d quickly acquired were still there for the millionth time before taking a shaky breath.

Everything was going to work out in my favor. Or so I kept repeating to myself in hopes that I would start to believe it too.

I quietly stretched as the bus kept trudging along. I was pretty sure the next stop was mine and while I was nervous about not being on the move, I was also ready to get off and find the motel I decided looked half decent so that I could get some rest tonight.

By the time the bus came to a complete stop once again, the rain had slowed and I was exhausted. If the adrenaline was what had been keeping me functioning for the last several hours, it had completely left my bloodstream at this point. I lifted my head to look around, decided it was safe and started gathering the few things I had with me. It took some maneuvering, but soon I was descending the vehicle’s steps and walking further into the unknown.

I checked my burner phone to make sure I had the right directions and walked as quickly as I could to the motel I’d be staying in for the night. The rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time I arrived at my home for the night. I crossed the parking lot in the sneakers I’d purchased at the last minute before leaving New York City and thanked my lucky stars that the rain didn’t pick up during my walk.

The motel was a single-story L-shape building that had a flickering vacancy sign to welcome me. The front office’s main window looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since 2018. I’d chosen it on purpose because I thought no one in a million years would think I would stay here. As far as I could see, there were no security cameras and no one would ask any questions.

The bell above the door rang as I walked into what I guess could be called a reception area. Behind a worn counter sat a man who looked like he’d been there since the building’s foundation was poured.

“Room?” he asked, barely looking up from the paperback novel he’d been reading.

“Yes. Just for tonight for now.”

He glanced at me then and the look he gave me made my skin crawl. I’d chosen the baggiest outfit I could find, but of course that meant nothing when it came to some people.

“Cash only,” he said, returning to his book. “Seventy-five.”

I mumbled, “Thank fuck,” as I counted out the bills, careful not to show how much money I actually had on me. At least his attention was back on the book in his hand and not on me.

He slid a worn key across the counter without looking up. “Room ten. Checkout’s at eleven.”

I took the key and rocked on my feet slightly. “Is there a back exit out of the room?”