Chapter 6
SIX
My legs felt like jelly when I finally reached the bus station, and the clock on the wall told me I had little time to spare.
The clerk, a bored-looking middle-aged woman, barely glanced at me as she processed the transaction. She handed over the ticket, her mouth turning down in disapproval as she slid it through the slot. “Boarding starts in ten minutes.”
Cheeks burning, I mumbled a quick “thank you” before making my way to a seat in the far corner of the waiting area, where I could see the entire room. I dropped into the hard plastic chair, hugging my backpack to my chest, all the while scanning the people who milled around the open space.
I half-expected Storme and his band of idiots to throw open the doors any second and drag me kicking and screaming back to the compound. But none of the people in the waiting area were familiar, and none resembled bikers in the least. Thank God. I exhaled and slumped back in the seat.
My fingers grazed the edge of my ticket. It was real. This was happening. Soon I’d be on a train, leaving everything—and everyone—behind.
Time dragged by, each passing second stretching into an eternity. My knee bounced anxiously as I watched the hand creep closer and closer to the departure time.
Suddenly, the glass doors at the entrance swung open, and my breath halted in my lungs as a man stepped inside. I recognized him instantly; Slayde was one of Storme’s men. And he wasn’t alone. Two others followed, their cold gazes inspecting every person inside.
Shit. They’d found me.
Heart slamming against my ribcage, I dipped my head, letting my red locks fall forward to shield my face.
I fumbled with my bag, fingers trembled wildly, zipping and then unzipping it again, as if I was preoccupied with checking my ticket.
I stared blindly at the slip of paper in front of me, my pulse pounding so loud I was certain they could hear it halfway across the room.
Slayde lounged against the ticket counter, questioning the clerk. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the way she glanced toward the waiting area made my stomach drop. I was running out of time.
Watching the men in my peripheral vision, I tracked them as they moved through the station.
I shifted in my seat and leaned one elbow against the hard plastic arm of the chair, propping my head on my hand.
Despite the fact that I couldn’t seem to draw air into my lungs, I forced myself to yawn, feigning boredom.
One of the men suddenly turned down the aisle where I was sitting, and every cell of my body went rigid. Oh, God. He was coming straight at me. My lungs screamed for air, but I kept my breathing even, fighting the instinct to panic.
The crackling sound of an automated voice over the loudspeaker shattered the tense silence, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
The tinny voice announced the departure for my bus, and I fought the urge to sprint from the room.
My hands shook as I gathered my backpack, trying not to draw attention to myself.
Even as my mind screamed to run, I fought to keep my movements slow and deliberate, doing my best to appear calm and unaffected.
I pushed to my feet just as Storme’s man paused at the end of the row. His gaze locked with mine, and my heart skipped a beat.
Shit. Surely he would recognize me. He would see right through the crappy dye job and cheap clothes. Any second now he was going to grab me, drag me out those doors and back to Steele. Or worse, Storme.
A loud thud reverberated throughout the room as someone nearby dropped their luggage, and the sound splintered the man’s attention.
While he turned to look, I ducked my head, letting my hair partially obscure my face, and strode toward the platform.
My heart slammed against my ribcage with each step, every muscle tense, waiting for angry shouts to rise up behind me.
Outside I seamlessly joined the flow of passengers moving toward the bus.
Angling myself away from the station, I stuck close to a family with two bickering teenagers, using their presence as a shield.
The driver barely looked at me as I handed him my ticket, his attention focused on ushering passengers aboard.
Once on the bus, I scanned my ticket and sought out my seat near the back. My legs felt like Jell-O as I sank down into the plush material. I slouched down, hugging my bag to my chest as though it could shield me from the danger still looming nearby.
My seat offered a clear view of the platform but kept me mostly out of sight. Through the window, I spied Storme’s men. They now stood on the platform, scanning the crowd. One of them spoke into a phone, his lips moving rapidly as he gestured toward the station.
Shit.
How long until they forced their way onto the bus? I quickly scanned the interior. There weren’t many passengers on tonight’s leg of the journey. It would take no time at all for them to single me out.
I slouched down in the seat, peeking surreptitiously around my backpack. Outside, the men continued to mill around. Slayde stepped forward, seemingly intent on making his way toward my bus. My heart lurched frantically.
I realized suddenly that the bus was moving. Ever so slowly the driver eased the large vehicle out of the slip. The platform slowly slid past, and I kept my face averted until we’d turned onto the main drag.
My blood continued to pulse wildly in my veins, and my lungs felt like they’d been squeezed with a vise.
I clenched my hands into fists, nails digging into my palms to ground myself.
I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath.
Then another. Slowly regulating my breathing, I opened my eyes and stared out the window, the buildings a blur as we passed by.
Holy shit.
I’d done it. I’d escaped.
“First time?”
I jumped and snapped my head around to the woman on the opposite side of the bus, one row behind me. My eyes grew wide. “I—I’m sorry?”
The older woman smiled gently. “Is it your first time traveling?”
A shaky breath escaped my lips. “I… Yes.” I nodded. “Sorry. I’m a little… anxious.”
“Completely understandable.” She gestured to the seat across from me. “Mind if I join you?”
I glanced at the driver, then back to the woman. I guessed her to be in her fifties or sixties, her once-brown hair streaked liberally with gray. Her eyes were soft and brown, and filled with kindness. I smiled tentatively. “I’d like that.”
The woman gathered her purse, then moved into my row and dropped into the new seat. She reached across the aisle and stuck out her hand.“I’m Betty Jo.”
I shook it automatically. “I’m…” Before I could stop myself, the lie slipped out. “Lily. Lily Anderson.”
Betty Jo’s gaze turned sharp, her eyes lingering on my face a little too long. I suddenly became painfully aware of the scratches along my cheek, the cut in my lip, and the backpack that held everything I owned.
Her gaze flicked over all of it, and she gave a decisive nod.
“Well, Lily Anderson,” she said matter-of-factly, “it’s lovely to meet you.”
I gave a weak smile. “You, too.”
I was relieved when Betty Jo changed the subject. “I’m headed to Kalispell—that’s in Montana. Have you ever been out west?”
I shook my head. I’d never been anywhere except the compound.
She leaned her head back against the seat and smiled. “It’s beautiful, unlike anything you’ve ever seen. We have mountains,” she said, gesturing out the window, “but out there it seems so wild and free.”
Hearing her talk about it stirred my excitement. “I’m headed to Great Falls.”
“Are you?” She grinned. “Well, would you look at that. We’re almost headed to the same place.”
She was incredibly easy to talk to, and my curiosity won out. “I heard we’ll have several stops since it’s so far away. Wouldn’t it have been easier to fly?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I can’t abide airplanes. Imagine, zooming through the air in nothing more than a tin can.”
I smiled at her description. I’d never been on a plane and probably never would. “Can’t say I’d enjoy it much, either. Do you have family out there?”
“I’m helping a friend move.” Her expression turned sympathetic. “She’s recently divorced and having a rough time of it.”
“It’s nice of you to help,” I offered.
She shrugged. “Marge is like family. That’s what we do.”
A wistful feeling snaked through me. Even when my father was alive, we hadn’t been all that close. Certainly not close enough for him to sacrifice his own time and effort to help me.
Betty Jo studied me. “Does your family live here?”
I turned my gaze out the window, debating how much to tell her. Finally I glanced back at her. “I don’t have family anymore. My father passed away a few years ago, and…” I trailed off, unwilling to admit the truth of my circumstances.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“It’s okay,” I said. “It was a long time ago.”
Betty Jo, ever the optimist, quickly changed the subject. We chatted intermittently until eventually exhaustion won out. I woke the next morning to bright sunlight streaming through the window.
In the row next to me, Betty Jo stirred. Sitting taller, she stretched a little then glanced my way and smiled ruefully. “Only one more day of this.”
Truly, I didn’t mind. It was an adventure, everything new and exciting. Even if my muscles were sore from the strange sleeping position on top of biking dozens of miles the previous day.
The bus pulled to a stop in Chicago about an hour later, and we disembarked. Betty Jo and I ate lunch in a small cafe, enjoying the break before boarding the bus again. The next leg of our journey would take us most of the way to Montana, and we were scheduled to arrive early tomorrow morning.
Aware of my quickly dwindling store of cash, I ordered only coffee and a bagel. Across the table, Betty Jo raised a silvery brow my way. “No wonder you’re so thin. You hardly eat more than a bird.”
I smiled a little as I blew over the cup of coffee to cool it. “I like to cook, but I don’t eat much.”
She nodded a little and dug into her plate of eggs and bacon. My mouth salivated just looking at it. Once I was more settled, I promised myself—then I could indulge. For now, I needed to watch every penny.
Suddenly, Betty Jo set her fork on the edge of her plate and sat up straight in her seat, her gaze fixed on me. My heart gave a little lurch.
Oh, God.
Had she somehow figured it out? That I wasn’t who I claimed to be, that every word out of my mouth had been a carefully altered, sanitized version of the truth?
“I know it’s presumptuous,” she said finally, tilting her head and studying me. “But I was thinking…”
The turn of phrase only served to heighten my anxiety. My heart slammed against my ribcage and my lungs constricted, threatening to hyperventilate. The coffee cup shook in my hand, and I quickly set it down to keep the liquid from sloshing over the rim and burning me.
Though, really, it would just be par for the course at this point. I’d been scratched to hell, chased down by a thief, and followed by the men whose leader I’d possibly—probably—killed. What was a small burn?
“I think you should come to Kalispell with me.”
I blinked at her. Once. Twice. The words didn’t immediately penetrate my brain. When they did, a profound sense of relief rushed through me.
On the heels of the relief that I hadn’t been found out, came shock. I was floored. My mouth dropped open before I could stop it, and my teeth gnashed together when I snapped it shut again.
My mind whirled, those words still ricocheting wildly around my brain. Go to Kalispell with her? Why?
I didn’t even know where the hell that was. She’d spoken of it, of course, and I knew it was somewhere in Montana. But besides that… I knew nothing of the place.
For that matter, I chided myself, I knew nothing of Great Falls, either. It was a fanciful name I’d selected off a board on a whim. All I knew was that it was far away from Steele, from his men and my past.
“I—” I shook my head, the reflex immediate. “I don’t know…”
“Think about it,” she pressed, leaning forward and folding her arms on the table. “You don’t have family waiting on you. No job tying you down.” Her eyes softened just a touch to take the unintentional sting out of her words. “
I dropped my gaze to the coffee cup between my hands, unable to look at her any longer. I was too afraid she’d see the guilt in my eyes, the truth of what I’d done. If she knew I’d lied about everything, she would never consider asking me to come along.
“I think you’ll love it there,” she added gently. “It’s quiet. Safe.”
My gaze snapped back to hers. She stared back at me, unflinching. My stomach swooped the tiniest bit before righting itself. Maybe Betty Jo was far more intuitive than she let on.
“Just think about it.”
With that, she picked up her fork and went back to eating, as if she hadn’t just upended my fragile existence.
I picked up the bagel and ripped off a tiny piece, then popped it in my mouth. I chewed but didn’t taste a single thing. I could only focus on one thing: Kalispell.
What would it be like? Small and quaint, or chaotic and boisterous?
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to imagine.
My mind conjured images of neighbors passing each other on the sidewalk with a friendly wave, mom-and-pop shops along the main street.
Old-fashioned lamps gracing every corner. And best of all, safe.
I lifted my gaze to Betty Jo again. As if sensing my inner turmoil, she didn’t look up this time. She just kept eating, allowing me to work through it on my own.
My fingers curled around the coffee cup, and I drew in a deep breath.
“Tell me more about Kalispell.”