Chapter 16 #2
After taking long strides to the shed, I grip the door and pull. Finding it locked, frustration burns through me, but just like the main door, I twist and pull, using all of my strength until I snap the locking mechanism.
Opening the door, I step inside, only to find myself staring at an old 1979 Pontiac Firebird.
It looks as though the owner has been fixing her up and is just about done.
Apart from a few inconsistencies in the black paint work, she’s absolutely perfect.
The question is, where the fuck are the keys, and does the old girl kick over?
Don’t get me wrong, it wouldn’t be the biggest hassle if the car doesn’t run.
It’s as easy as slipping into the neighbor’s property, grabbing the keys off the bench or from a handbag, and taking off.
But this right here, it’s too good an opportunity to pass up.
There’s nothing quite like convenience to make my day.
As for the keys. I’ll take one fucking guess.
Slipping inside the classic Firebird, I settle in, pushing the driver’s seat all the way back.
It’s squishy as fuck, but not every car is built for a man like me.
Not that I’ve had the pleasure of sitting in one for a while.
I’m going to enjoy this. Hell, I’m almost going to feel bad stealing it from the guy.
I’ll ditch it in a gutter somewhere once we’re far enough away, and I’m sure at some point, the car will make its way back home.
But until then, I’m going to sure as fuck enjoy driving the shit outta this thing.
Reaching up, I pull the sun visor down, and just as expected, a set of keys falls straight into my hand. There’s nothing I love more than a trusting small town, and believe me, Ash, Riley, and I have caused enough chaos in plenty of them.
Flipping the keys around in my hand, I go to push them into the ignition, only to find they don’t fit. “The fuck?” I mutter to myself, giving it a closer look and realizing that while they’re car keys, they’re certainly not meant for this car.
Shit.
Who the fuck puts keys in the visor that don’t belong to that specific car?
I start madly searching, checking the center console and glove compartment before pushing out of the Firebird and checking every nook and cranny this old shed has to offer, coming up blank.
I go to make my way back to the house, certain they’ll be there, when movement in my peripheral has my gaze shifting to the small window in the laundry room door.
Aria is there, wearing a pair of long tights and an oversized white button-up, only half the buttons are done up, her black bra peeking through the deep V-neck, and she has the sleeves folded up as though being fashionable is somehow the most important thing while we’re on the run.
Gotta give it to her, she pulls it off flawlessly.
Her hair is soaking, and as she rakes her fingers through it, she looks around, only there’s something in her stance that has my back stiffening, and I watch her a moment longer.
She glances over her shoulder, discreetly peering down the hallway before sparing a longing glance toward the laundry room door.
My brow arches, and I shake my head as I move around to the door, keeping my eye on my little menace.
She’s trying to make a run for it, but that’s not about to happen.
Slipping out of the old shed, I make my way down the side of the house as Aria takes one last glance around, making sure she’s in the clear, and as I lean up against the side of the house, kicking one foot over the other, I listen to the subtle sounds of my girl throwing herself out the side door and making a fucking break for it.
She careens around the side of the house, whipping her head back over her shoulder to make sure I’m not roaring after her, only to slam directly into me a second later.
She hits me with so much momentum that her long hair whips right around to my back, leaving a wet imprint on the back of my clean shirt.
“Oomph,” she grunts, getting the wind knocked out of her.
“Going somewhere, princess?”
“FUCK!”
She shoves her hands against my chest, about ready to have a tantrum, when the sound of a car rolling past the property has both our heads whipping around. The Sheriff’s patrol car crawling by makes my heart drop right out of my ass.
I grab Aria before she even has a second to comprehend what we’re seeing, and I slam her up against the side of the house. With one hand clamped over her mouth, I press hard against hers, concealed by the overgrown garden at the side of the property.
The siren turns on, the slightest whoop, whoop echoing through the street before the patrol car comes to a dead stop outside the neighbor’s home.
Aria stares up at me, wide-eyed, neither of us moving a damn inch as my body pins her to the wall. I feel her heart racing through her chest.
The Sheriff gets out of the car, barely having a moment to slam his door before the neighbor’s screen door whips open, followed by the subtle sound of baby footsteps on the porch.
“Da-da,” a child’s voice cuts through the tension-filled silence.
Ahh fuck. I chose the Sheriff’s neighbor’s place to break into. Just my fucking luck.
“Hey, baby,” the Sheriff says, scooping up the child and walking back toward the door. “Being good for Momma?”
“Uh-huh.”
A woman scoffs, joining the two at the door. “Now you know she’s lying,” the mother laughs. “She’s not happy unless she’s giving me a hard time.”
The Sheriff laughs and hands the baby back to her mom. “Just dropped in to grab my wallet. Left it on the table.”
“No, you didn’t,” she tells him. “I’ve cleaned that table six times already this morning. There’s no wallet there.”
“Crap,” he sighs, moving into the house and letting the screen door fall closed behind him. Their voices fade away, but I don’t move, my hand still braced against Aria’s mouth, her terrified stare locked on mine.
She breathes hard, her chest heaving just as much as mine, and as the silence drags on, that same tension I felt in the lake comes rearing back, growing like never before.
Our hearts race in sync, only I’m not so sure it’s from the fear of being caught, not anymore.
It’s something much more. Her stare shifts.
The terror in her eyes morphs into an odd curiosity before shifting again into something a little more familiar.
Her brows crease as though something has just occurred to her, and I can’t tear my gaze away.
Realizing she’s not about to scream and run for the hills, I lower my hand from her mouth, and she shifts under my hold, her hand lifting to my chest before reaching up to my face. She brushes her fingers over the top of my brow before trailing them down over my cheekbone and further to my jaw.
“I think . . .” She pauses, her voice the most subtle whisper. “I think I’m remembering you.”
My brow arches, my heart suddenly racing for a whole new reason. “Yeah?”
She nods. “I think so. It’s your eyes. I remember them. Only they were younger. Not plagued by so much . . . hurt.”
Fuck.
My hands shift to her waist, gripping her tight as she continues to consider me, those fierce green eyes seeing straight through me like nobody ever has before, and as her hand lowers back to my chest, hovering right over my heart, her gaze fills with the deepest understanding. “You were in love with me.”
I swallow hard, feeling as though my whole fucking world has just turned to ash. How could she possibly know that? Not even as kids did she know, yet staring at me now, years down the track, she can somehow figure it out.
I clench my jaw as the tension tightens between us, and my hands involuntarily lower down her body, grabbing hold of her perfect ass. Then in one swift motion, I lift her against the wall, her toned legs wrapping around my waist as I bear down against her, feeling her heat through the thin tights.
We’re eye to eye, her lips barely a breath away.
All I’d need to do is close the gap and take everything that’s always been mine, but I can’t do it.
I can’t allow myself to get lost in her, not like I always was as a kid.
I can’t risk it. Keeping five steps ahead of law enforcement needs to be my only priority.
No matter how damn tempting these lips might be.
“Sweet, Menace,” I rumble, shifting her weight and freeing my hand before closing it around her soft, delicate throat. The rapid thrum of her pulse beats against my palm.
Aria reaches up, her fingers hooking into mine around her throat, not daring to pull me away, and her heavy, panting breaths continue.
Then just as she decides to throw caution to the wind and close the gap between us, the neighbor’s screen door whips open again, quickly rebounding against the brick wall, pulling me right out of Aria’s orbit like a bucket of ice water was tipped over both our heads.
Her eyes go wide again, that longing I saw briefly shifting right back to fear. “I’ll be late again tonight,” the Sheriff says as I move my hand back over her mouth and shake my head, warning her to keep quiet. “They want to brief us on that escaped prisoner from Hartley Creek.”
“They haven’t caught him yet?” his wife asks.
“No, but it’s all a waste of time. He won’t be coming this way. Not when there are so many better areas for him to hide out. We’re too quiet here. Newcomers stand out too much. They get noticed. Not like in the big cities where they can blend.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Just keep your eyes open anyway,” he tells her, before the familiar sound of a kiss fills the air. “Don’t wait up. I’ll grab dinner from Macy’s Diner.”
“Okay,” she tells him. “Be safe.”
“Always, baby.” And with that, he makes his way back down the porch and across the lawn before climbing back into his patrol car and taking off, allowing me the chance to breathe for the first time in ten fucking minutes.
“Come on,” I tell Aria, grabbing her hand and slipping straight back into the house through the laundry room door. “We’ve gotta get the fuck out of here.”