Chapter 25
Juliet
Harsh fluorescence pierced the early morning dim of the Amarillo truck stop.
I’d never been there before. The checkered tiles and endless steel shelving could have been any such place, but they were foreign enough to be unnerving, bleak enough to set my nerves on edge.
It was too easy to imagine someone watching from the shadowy parking lot outside.
But I knew it was just me and any number of other desperate people making their way to who knows where in the early morning Texas hours.
I moved quickly and deliberately past display after display, the ache of dread a dull and constant throb in my chest. My legs were wobbly with nerves and exhaustion.
I was being careful to keep the bond quiet, so Bronc wouldn’t feel my anxiety.
The few truckers inside barely glanced my way as I snagged a burner phone from a rotating rack, the plastic encasing slick beneath my fingers.
It would be safer than the one I’d brought, less traceable.
My pulse hammered faster than the heels of my boots on the tile.
I could have sworn the glances grew longer, more curious, suspicious even.
My imagination was running away with me.
I bought two prepaid Visa cards and a bottle of water. There’s no way I was the first person the clerk had ever seen make these types of purchases. Any number of people have reasons for moving from place to place, needing to keep off the radar.
“Uh, miss,” he said. He sounded uneasy. “Do you want a bag for that?”
The silence after the words stretched out far too long. I forced a smile, shaky and grateful to be dealing with strangers who didn’t know I was a breath away from screaming.
“Yeah. Sure.”
I snatched the phone out first. Already I was checking flights on it before I stepped foot inside the small diner inside the stop.
I couldn’t bear to head outside to do this clandestine business in the late September chill.
It was before dawn, and you could feel the crispness in the air.
Checking flights, Nashville seemed like my best bet.
Seemed, because I was flying blind and desperate.
But desperation was better than sitting still and waiting for something awful to happen to my mother.
Because of me. Once he took me, I’d contact Bronc through the bond.
He’d find me. I knew he would. And this would all be over.
I looked out the window. The blacktop was wide open, except for the looming shadows of eighteen-wheelers and the row of cars with men asleep in them, slumped and still.
I hurried past, keeping my eyes on the thin streaks of early light over the faraway canyon walls, hoping they’d be a good enough guide to get me out.
I should have packed lighter. Or heavier.
Or differently. The metal bench on the curb bit into my legs as I fumbled through my backpack.
No time to dwell on it. The flight was more important than clean clothes or even the fake ID stashed in a leather wallet.
I tried to convince myself of that as I booked the 6:15 a.m. flight and slipped the backpack over my shoulders.
My palms were wet and shaky around my phone.
It was the same way when I got the Uber called and confirmed.
The way the confirmation arrived in an instant, a buzzing satisfaction from the other side of the country, left me raw and wary.
I set the cards and phone up in a rush and managed to book an urgent flight with sweaty hands.
I worked the way I always did when I was on edge—fast and efficient, the way I had to before someone could get ahead of me.
My mind went to Bronc just for a moment.
I’d left my phone at home. It would be a while before Pearl would notice I was gone.
She normally didn’t check on me until lunchtime.
I ordered the Uber and finished everything before 5:15 am, with half an hour to spare and fear wrapped like an iron fist around my gut.
There was something strangely reassuring about the vehicle that arrived, about the female driver’s warm smile and chatty nature. It almost made me forget for a moment that I was going headlong into the arms of a monster.
“You headin’ far, honey?”
She probably would have been just as pleasant if I had told her the truth, if I said I didn’t have a clue. I glanced out the window instead, letting the quiet of an almost deserted main road sink into me.
“Just the airport,” I said. “Thanks.”
Just back to the man who used to break my bones for fun.
The street signs we passed were unfamiliar and surreal, and I closed my eyes as the car sped along, cutting through more nameless terrain.
It had to be enough. I’d tried to plan everything as perfectly as I could, account for every possibility.
But each turn the car took felt like it would lead me straight back to where I started, and a chill settled deep in my bones, unwavering.
I held my breath as we pulled into the terminal, tension vibrating through me like a tuning fork as I jumped out. I strolled up to the TSA agent just like I was heading out on vacation. Nothing to see here, folks. Just heading to confront a kidnapper. You know. The usual.
I tried not to look back as I boarded, rushing past the security checkpoint and to my gate in a blur of nerves and gut-twisting apprehension. I hated having to face Harrison. I hated him.
I found my seat and forced myself to breathe deeply and slowly.
The tears surprised me. They were there as the flight took off, unstoppable and hot, and I wiped at them with the heels of my palms, thankful that I had the row to myself. Bronc. My refuge. The only good thing I’d ever known in my short life was going to be so angry or hurt.
The sleepless night and endless worries left me heavier than I thought. They worked into my bones, pushing down until exhaustion finally overwhelmed every other feeling.
I dreamed of Bronc. His smile was a broad and familiar comfort, and my own widened in return.
We walked toward each other, through open space, his stride steady and easy and reassuring.
Nothing like mine. Nothing frantic or broken.
There were no worries that lingered over him like they did me, no anxiety. He called my name as he neared.
“Juliet.”
I started to run.
The rest was foggy. Hazy and uncertain. Memories and worry tangled, bleeding into each other until I couldn’t tell which was which. It felt like an eternity before the wheels finally touched down.
I left the airport in Nashville with just my backpack, a half-formed plan, and the gnawing unease that I was already steps behind. There was no way of knowing whether this was safe. Only Harrison’s promise that he’d find me. That my mother would be safe.
I wanted to believe him.
With the way my heart was pounding, with the way my blood ran cold, with the way that I knew him, I didn’t.
The cavernous interior of the terminal loomed around me as I walked toward the baggage claim, keeping my head down. There were too many people, too many possibilities. I hugged the walls and stayed close to the main thoroughfares, sure I could slip away in the crowds if I had to.
As soon as I thought I was out of sight, I dug my phone out, sending a quick message to the number Harrison had given me.
I’m here like we agreed.
A quick reply, then silence.
Good. My man is waiting. You did the right thing, Juliet. As soon as you are in the limo, your mother will be returned safely.
That was as much as I could have hoped for. The word of a criminal.
I swallowed hard and ignored it, the familiar burn of tears returning to my eyes. I needed to keep myself together. Keep my feelings from flowing through the bond.
The next text to Harrison was even shorter.
My man is almost to where you are.
They must have hacked into the airport’s security cameras. He could see me. I was certain. My eyes remained focused on the ground curb of the passenger pickup area. Until a deep voice interrupted my thoughts.
“Let’s go, Juliet.”
A giant of a man stood beside me dressed in full chauffer’s gear, complete with hat. He wore what had to be a mask. There’s no way he’d risk showing his face so blatantly in front of the cameras that were everywhere.
He took my bag and opened the back door of the luxurious limo and helped me inside. Before I turned my head to look at him again, a sharp sting entered my neck. Within seconds, my world went black.