Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
“Mob guy car?” she suggests, finishing my sentence and almost making me laugh a little.
It would be funny if it wasn’t so true.
“Yeah, I guess that’s what I mean,” I drawl, waiting for some more of that feeling I had last night and even this morning.
That part where we get to live happily ever after.
This driving with a target still on my back isn’t what I had planned after getting out of the life we’re escaping.
I wonder why she’s so fine with going south, though. Hell, even I don’t want to. But we’re gonna kind of have to.
“You can’t go back. You know that, right?” I ask her, regretting my words instantly, but it’s also like I’m telling myself the same thing here.
Surprisingly, Jasmine only nods in agreement. As I drive, I can feel her crimping her mouth in agreement long before I look at her.
“Do you have a passport, anything like that?” I ask, but it’s as meaningless as my original statement.
I’ve got ten passports, all of ‘em fake. And none of them with me.
In my hurry to get clear of my family finally, I grabbed the only things that mattered to me most.
Jasmine and…. Well. I just grabbed her.
I figured we’d make up the rest on the fly, which is proving a little trickier than I thought.
Suddenly, I’m lit up from behind, a familiar peaked hat staring me down over the wheel of his patrol car.
The siren bleeping a digital bark makes Jasmine jump as I growl for her to keep her eyes front, not to turn around.
Jasmine tenses up, and even though it’s the last thing I’d use, I feel for the gun I lifted last night.
Hoping I don’t have to use it.
I slow down and indicate as I pull off the road onto the soft shoulder.
And to my surprise, the patrol car speeds up, sirens blazing anew as they speed off to something else.
“Just getting us out of his way, I guess,” Jasmine gulps. Both of us watch the flashing lights zoom into the distance.
But I’m not so sure.
The cop could have driven past us any time he liked.
It’s an out-of-place, odd kind of thing to happen. And I don’t like it.
Makes me feel…vulnerable.
Aside from the fact the bastard crept up on me, it could’ve been anyone, and I wouldn’t have even noticed.
You’re slipping, Rocky…You’re in too deep with this girl.
Shut up!
The sound of my Papa in my brain only adds to the tension building inside me.
I’m almost counting the seconds now for him to find out he snatched the wrong girl.
Sent me away with the wrong one, too.
And when he finds out how I feel about this girl and about my plans to excommunicate myself from his precious family?
Not a thought I enjoy having, I admit. But I’m not afraid.
Only worried. For Jasmine’s sake.
“We gotta ditch this car,” I mutter, breathing through my nose as I actually feel the strain of trying to think what to do.
Running from an unseen enemy I’m related to who doesn’t even know I’m running yet is all new to me.
But I can’t let my guard down. If we get sloppy now, we’re as good as dead long before we even try to disappear.
The sound of another vehicle breaks my concentration.
An old pickup that’s been converted to an RV.
We don’t see ‘em in the city so much. And out here, they’re not too common from what I’ve seen so far.
But one thing about this old truck catches both our eyes.
For Sale
I’d normally laugh, but given our current situation, I’d pay cash for a unicycle if I thought it meant us blending in rather than sticking out.
Even for a few hundred miles, anything would be better.
It’s not a bad-looking truck. Just…old.
Beat up in places, but nothing that wouldn’t stand up to a roadworthy test. I can tell it’s solid.
“I think you’d better hurry if you’re in the new car market,” Jasmine reminds me tactfully. Tugging at my sleeve as I sit with my mouth open. Watching the truck getting smaller as it drives away from us.
“We could sleep out under the stars,” she suggests in a mock dramatic, romantic tone.
But there’s something in her idea that moves me into action.
It might even get us across the border…I think to myself.
Again, old habits die hard.
And hiding in plain sight, driving a jalopy compared to a car registered and insured to a known mobster?
It’s a no-brainer.
I pull back onto the highway, and although the old truck’s heading North, I follow it until it turns off, taking a long dirt road I figure must be their driveway.
Slowing some before they get to their homestead in the distance, the driver pulls over and gets out.
Clearly annoyed at being followed.
“He’p you!?” the old woman calls out to me in a twang only country folk can deliver but giving me the clearest WTF city-face without saying another word.