3. Chapter 3
Chapter three
T he fight or flight response that the sirens ignited in Elio was so strong he almost leaped up and ran then and there. But his mind was still too entwined with Dr. Rissa Mahoney to follow his body’s urgent instinct.
His gaze returned to her face, part of him still regretting that their almost kiss had been interrupted, no matter how inappropriate. She had not pulled away from his advance and had even seemed to lean in closer. Until the sirens.
Rissa’s face now looked nearly as panicked as Elio felt. She glanced around wildly, biting her lip as if completely conflicted. Elio’s hands had dropped from her face and neck at the first shrill note of the siren. Now, as the keening melody grew louder, he found himself grabbing her hand. It was slender but strong, and her fingers closed around his in response as her eyes flew back to his face.
Blue. They were as blue as a Caribbean lagoon.
Elio’s mind leaped back to the flashes of memory he’d had: Rissa helping him down a hall, his hands in cuffs.
It’s the cops, he thought. That’s who we’ve been running from.
But why? His brain held no answer for that.
Rissa abruptly pushed to her feet, tugging his hand to bring him up beside her. Elio paused as he straightened, a wave of dizziness passing briefly through him and then vanishing.
“Come on,” Rissa said softly. “The clerk must have called the cops. We’ll have to go out the back to slip away before they get here.”
Elio nodded numbly. She started down an aisle toward the back of the store, keeping his hand firmly in her grasp. Her warm grip was like an anchor. Elio followed her, realizing he would go anywhere with her if she kept holding his hand.
After her initial panicked hesitation, Rissa moved swiftly and surely. Releasing his hand, she grabbed a couple of bottles of water from a shelf as they passed, and after a lightning-quick moment of sorting, a handful of clothing from another. A woman shopping without even slowing her stride—Elio found it impressive and would have said so if they hadn’t already been moving faster than his recently traumatized brain could form syllables.
Grabbing a canvas bag from a hanging display at the end of yet another shelf, Rissa stuffed the clothes, water, and medical supplies into it, her hands almost a blur as they proceeded to scrape several boxes of breakfast bars into the bag along with a jar of peanut butter. At the last minute, she swerved into a tech aisle and snatched up a phone charger.
The sound of sirens was growing closer. Elio’s panic and Rissa’s hurry accelerated alongside their steps.
“You understand I would not usually resort to stealing,” Rissa said between clenched teeth, shrugging the bag over her shoulder and reaching for his hand again. Their fingers folded together with ease as they reached the back door labeled “Exit: Alarm Will Sound” and pushed through it. Running across the back lot, they cut back through the woods, heading for another dim light that flickered at them from between the thinning trees.
Rissa halted abruptly at the edge of a yard, and Elio nearly stumbled straight into her. Ahead of them, across a few yards of weedy lawn, was a house, and next to it, an old Ford 150 pickup truck.
“Here goes nothing,” Rissa said just above a whisper.
Crossing the lawn with Elio at her heels, she beelined for the truck. She yanked open the door, hurled her bag inside, and climbed halfway into the seat, fumbling for something under the dash. She pulled out a handful of wires, a look of desperation on her face as she eyed the tangle. Then, she looked at Elio.
“I don’t suppose you remember how to hotwire a car?” she said.
Even as the word no came to his lips, Elio found himself moving forward and reaching past her. She scooched to the side, watching at his elbow as his hands performed the procedure he hadn’t known he was capable of. A moment later, the old truck roared to life, and Rissa let out a subdued cheer as he looked down at her in astonishment.
“Do you remember doing that before?” she asked hopefully.
“No,” he said. She nodded, not looking too disappointed, as if she had expected the answer.
“Muscle memory,” she replied. “This is something you’re good at.” There was a wry twist to her tone even as she smiled at him, and Elio felt his stomach drop.
So, it was true. They were outlaws. He felt strangely disheartened by the idea. If he had at some point chosen to be an outlaw, why did he now feel disappointed by the information?
It just didn't feel right, somehow.
It didn’t seem to match Rissa either, come to think of it. Nothing about this felt right, aside from the fact that they were doing it together.
Are we a couple? Elio wondered suddenly. The way she had responded to his kiss and seemed so heartbroken that he didn’t know her supported the idea. But it surprised him. Even with as little knowledge of himself as he had, a doctor—especially one as drop-dead gorgeous, courageous, and loyal as Rissa seemed to be—struck him as being out of his league.
Nothing like the girls I used to date, he thought, and then immediately latched onto the idea: Do I remember any girls I used to date?
He searched his brain for names, faces, and embarrassing first date details, but found nothing. He couldn’t even remember his parents or where he had gone to school.
It scared him, but only for a moment. The next, he was skirting around the front of the truck to clamber into the passenger seat, and Rissa was gripping the wheel, her lips set firmly and her hands steady. There was no more time to be scared.
So, he was an outlaw, apparently on the run with his outlaw girlfriend. Or more likely, she wasn’t an outlaw—she had simply helped him escape.
Is there even the remotest possibility we’ll get away with it?
As Rissa swung left onto the highway and accelerated into the night, Elio couldn’t help but feel pessimistic. The direction she chose meant nothing to him, but something told him that any direction they took could only lead toward catastrophe.