I nod in agreement. “Well, let’s get going then. If we leave now, we could be in Hastings by lunchtime tomorrow.”
“How the heck are we supposed to get across the country that soon if only one of us can drive?” Della points to her plastered arm, which has been put back together with metal plates and screws from when the train struck her.
Because if I don’t, I’ll never forgive myself.
“There’s something I need to go to tomorrow afternoon in Hastings and if we leave now, stay at Aurora in Illinois and leave by seven tomorrow morning, I can make it, with an hour to spare.” I smile, but even I can tell it’s strained.
Della narrows her eyes and pushes back her blanket and swings her legs off the bed. “Why don’t we fly then?”
She has no idea how much I wish I could.
“Della, you don’t just have a hit put on you by Frank Lucini and then board a plane and get the hell out of here. He’s not in the mafia. He
is
the mafia, the king. He controls everyone who is corrupt or been backed into a corner. The mafia’s biggest enterprise is smuggling drugs from one country to another. He’s the reason most underpaid airport officers can send their children to private schools. I can guarantee you most airport workers within a 500-mile radius of Portland have already seen your picture and know to pick you up on the spot. We have to drive and pay with cash wherever we go. We’ll be off the radar so searching for us will be like finding a needle in a haystack.”
“Okay,” she replies weakly, staring down at the floor as if finally taking in how serious this situation is.
“I’ll get someone to help you change, and then we’re out of here.”
Della’s stare hasn’t moved, so I take a chance and step forward and place my hand softly on her elbow. Her face quickly rises to mine. “This is a dangerous time, but I promise you, Della, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Silence fills the room while her eyes search my face, for what I’m not sure.
Della steps back, and my hand falls away from her touch. “I believe you want to help me. Nevertheless, Brett, Dom, whoever the hell you are… don’t mistake my need for your help with love, because I promise you something also, the day you fucked me with a false name and nothing but lies behind your façade, was the day you killed anything I may have felt for you. I say I hate you because I don’t know any other word stronger, but the intense hatred I have for you doesn’t even come close to the storm that’s built inside of me for you. Don’t get too close because I’ll not hesitate to break you to save myself.”
***
Peering into my rearview mirror, I make sure we don’t have a tail.
All clear.
Returning my stare to the deserted stretch of Highway 65, I clench my hands around the steering wheel and push down harder on the accelerator. The rumble of the green Dodge Mickey lent me vibrates up through my body and eases my nerves. Knowing I’m behind a powerful and fast machine, grants me a small amount of relief that we may be able to outrun Lucini’s enforcers and make it to Minnesota unscathed. Hopefully, I can return Mickey’s car without any bullet holes.
I glance over to the passenger seat and spot my Glock close by and ready for me to snatch up at any moment to protect myself and my girl.
Glimpsing over my shoulder, Della remains sound asleep across the backseat. Her plastered wrist rests against her chest while her other hand holds it there for support. She appears small, like a child curled into a ball, frightened and not knowing which direction to protect herself from.
That ends now.
Her words were as good as a steel knife through my heart, but I’ll own those strikes, wear them like badges of honor. I’ll tear down her walls. I have a purpose, not one I’ve been given, but one I want. Nothing else in this world will touch Della King except happiness, family, and love. I hope by the end of this dangerous game we’re playing, I'm her savior and not her enemy.
Chapter Two
Dom
Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel to "Die a Happy Man" by Thomas Rhett, I sense movement on the backseat. Della must be waking up. Glancing over my shoulder, I see she’s still asleep, yet her face is pinched and her movements jerky.
“Dell,” I yell out, alternating between checking the road in front of me and seeing if she wakes up. She doesn’t, so I pull over on the side of the road and jump out. Noticing a large semi coming straight past us, I immediately cover my face and wait for the dirt gust to settle.
Opening the back door, I kneel on the seat. Della looks as if she’s in some kind of pain. Gently placing my hands on her shoulders, I rock her. Suddenly, I jump back as she bursts up from her sleeping position. Della’s face is pale, and her eyes are wide. She peers around us wordlessly and rubs what looks like her clammy hands together.
“Where are we?” she asks, confused.
“Three hours out from Aurora. You looked like you were in pain, as if you were reliving something terrible, so I pulled over to wake you.”
“Oh,” she says softly, pulling her injured arm against her chest.
“Nightmare?”
Della swallows roughly. “Yeah, they seem to have come back with full force.”
“Back?” I ask, cocking my head to the side, waiting for her reply.
“I used to get them a lot when I was a kid. Reading at bedtime was the only thing that would help. Having characters and a new world in my mind before sleep kind of cured my nightmares. They just went away. As I got older, I read less and less. My life, school, and work took over my thoughts, so I suppose that’s how they never came back, until Jae,” Della ends on a strangled whisper. She swallows nervously again. “And Rex.”
Stretching out my arm, I cup her cheek. “I’m so fucking sorry those bastards hurt you.” Della melts into my hand, and a few tears fall from her eyes. “I wish I could take the pain away for you, bear it for you.”
As if my words jolt her awake, Della lifts her head, wipes her tears and scoots away from me. She peers out the window and mutters, “No, you can't, and now you’re the reason I’m still hurting, why my life has taken yet another horrible turn when I should be with my family, getting on with things.” Her voice grows louder and angrier, and she extends her good arm and points to the highway in front of us. “It's why I’m in the middle of nowhere on the run and have to depend on a lying asshole for my safety.” Her body slumps into the back seat, and Della does up her seatbelt. “Can we just go, please? We're wasting time, and we need to find somewhere that sells water. My damn arm is starting to hurt, and I’m due for my pain-relief meds.” Her face is no longer soft; it's blank with wide, expectant eyes, as if to order the driver to get back in his place and leave her be.
It takes me a second to move my body and process her quick personality change. I hop back into the front seat and start the car, all the while gritting my teeth. I clench the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. Spying on Della with the rearview mirror, I see her head turned toward the outside world while biting her bottom lip as she stares down. Her forehead creases as if a million thoughts are running through that beautiful head of hers. The Della I know was there one moment and gone the next. She’s buried deep, bursting to get out, but too scared and hurt to try.
I wish we could go back to the way we were before. I’d give anything for this nightmare to be over.
Della thinks she’s pushing me away. However, she's only showing me I need to work harder. I will regain her trust and one day, her love as well.
***
Della
Dom pulls into a gas station and stops at a pump. Desperate to keep our conversations to a minimum, I quickly jump out and round the car to the trunk. I tap on it twice so Dom knows I want it opened. It pops, and I find the plastic bag that holds all my belongings that the police and hospital staff returned to me. As I sift through my bloody clothes to find my black handbag, memories of Rex and the terror I felt on the train tracks returns full force, and a stabbing pain in my stomach begins. My heart speeds up, and I’m left breathless. Instinctively, I place my hand over my scar on my stomach, but I know that’s not what’s hurting me. It’s the grief trying to surface, but I refuse to let it. I ignore any feelings that try to break free, and I push them back down to where they belong: to the black pit where all my other horrors live.
Sensing Dom coming around, I grab my bag quickly, fling it over my shoulder, and close the trunk. I walk straight past him, but he doesn’t let me walk off. He grasps my elbow, and that’s all it takes for a blaze to build inside me. He doesn’t get it, the fury I have for him, the hate I’m holding back to get through this trip with him. He’s just another long line of people in my life who have let me down, and he will be the last person outside my family who I would ever trust or care for again. This world has made a fool of me for the last time. From now on, I’m not letting anyone near enough to hurt me. I’m going to be a nasty bitch, and I’m going to push as hard as I can, so they give up and write me off. No one will ever have the chance to worm their way into my life again and cause me pain.
I yank my arm out of Dom's grip and swing my gaze to his. I push every ounce of rage and betrayal swirling inside me to the surface, and hope he can see it all there in my cold, hard stare. I hope it conveys how much his touch repulses me. It’s a lie but a convincing one I know I can pull off. The anger fuels my hate, but I can’t conceal the truth from myself. Even though I crave him, I’ll never allow myself to have him again. Lessons: Phillip, Jae, and Rex, all of them lessons which only now can I see clearly where I’ve gone wrong… trust, admiration, and love, all of them weaknesses. I’ll never again trust anyone with my safety or my innocence, and definitely not my heart. That beating organ within my chest gave up a long time ago, all that powered it was my hope, and that died the day Brett did.
Dom’s face falls, but he recovers and says, “I’ll fill up and come in with you, just to be safe.”
My eyes roll skyward. "Geez, stop acting like the hero when
you’re
the villain and even then, you’re fucking bad at it. We left to get a head start, and I’m pretty sure they didn’t pass us on the highway simply to stop at a petrol station hoping we’d stop here too and then they’d catch us.” My sarcastic and bitchy tone annoys even me, so I can only imagine how much Dom must hate me right now.
I stalk off before seeing his face or letting him get a word in.
When walking through the electronic doors, the cool air-conditioned air hits me, and I head straight for the water fridge. As if holding a heavy boulder from falling, I fight with my own body not to look out at Dom and see what I left behind—pain etched upon his face or maybe frustration quickly turning to annoyance where soon he’ll drive off and leave me behind. Given his ability to deceive so well, option two is more likely.
Choosing the cheapest bottle of water, I grab it out of the fridge and place it on the counter. I rub the drink's condensation from my hand onto my jeans before opening my bag and pulling out some change.
A uniformed woman in a blue-collared shirt stops loading the hotbox beside the counter and takes my cash. No words are exchanged. She takes my money and gives me my change, and I’m both desperate to get out of the store and wondering where my "Hello" or "Have a good day" is. Customer service is obviously something she gave up on a long time ago.
Grabbing my water, I turn to leave and then freeze when I realize I need to pee.
I can hold it.
Looking down at my bottle of water, which I haven’t even had a sip out of yet, I decide I should go now while I can pee in a toilet and not kill a poor plant by the side of the highway.
Turning, I ask, “Do you have a public toilet?”
The woman, who's returned to placing food into the hotbox, doesn’t even look up when she answers gruffly, “Outside, left side of the building.”
Telling myself to be just as rude as she is, I decide not to thank her; however, within three steps to the door, I’m thanking her over my shoulder. It appears becoming a nasty bitch is going to take some time to master.
As if a reminder, my wrist and arm begin to thump in pain, so I exit the store quickly, not watching where I’m going. I bump into a large, warm body. Swiftly, my head rises to apologize, but then as if fate is laughing at me, I find it’s only Dom.
“Jesus, watch where you’re going, Dom,” I snap.
Dom presses his lips together tightly, and a tic appears in his jaw. His large hands that caught my hips slide off my body, and as if we’ve stepped into a slow motion movie, the agonizing seconds of his skin touching even only my clothing, sears a tattoo into my flesh. Internally groaning, I hastily get myself to the ladies’ room.
When I’m done emptying my bladder and taking my pain medication, I check myself out in the mirror.
I sigh. My blonde hair appears ratty and oily. Dark circles are starting to appear under my eyes, and my cast seems to be getting heavier each day that passes. I’m not only flesh and bone anymore. Now I’m also metal and screws.
Shivering with disgust, I look forward to the hotel tonight and a nice warm shower. I haven’t been able to wash properly nor have I been competent to do it alone without a nurse's assistance. I now know how to protect my cast in a plastic bag to ensure it survives a shower, though, and I can't wait. Since Rex kidnapped me and decided a mind fuck was a better punishment for me than death, the face staring back at me is who I've become. Staring back at my reflection, I’m not sure who that woman is who just thought that. I should be thankful Rex came to his senses seconds before I would have died. A lone tear tracks down my face, and I walk to the paper towel dispenser to wipe aside any traces of grief or memories from those horrifying moments.