12. Talon
twelve
Talon
A s if this trip could get any more fucked up—and behind schedule. Of course, the convenient little car I’d bought off one of my long-time customers had to go and take a shit. I’d given the vehicle a quick tune up before making my way to Chicago, but I hadn’t anticipated that Milo would have bunked up all the way across the fucking country. If I had, I would’ve taken further measures to ensure that the hunk of junk could make it. I hadn't wanted to take my own vehicle—it would have made it too easy for Kyle to track my plates, and for reasons I still didn't understand, I wanted to keep the finer details of this trip under wraps.
Still, this was my fault. I’m a mechanic for fuck’s sake. I should have been prepared before leaving. So eager to get on the road—and get Leo out of Kyle's line of sight—I didn’t even grab my tool bag before I left the shop. Rookie fucking move.
Now we were who-the-hell-knows-where, and Misely’s heeled boot was tapping incessantly against the dusty concrete floor with impatience. I shot her a look but she wasn’t paying me any attention, her focus on the old man who was sat behind a rusty metal desk, clicking through his computer. The desktop was about as ancient as the surface it sat on top of, a yellowing, off-white monstrosity that was making a loud humming noise.
After what felt like ages, the man clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Sorry to say, I think we’re out o’ luck on that belt. We’ll have to order one.”
My jaw ground together painfully, but I held back the curses I wanted to dispel. “And how long will that take?”
He shrugged, unbothered brown eyes meeting mine. “Hard to say. Paulie is the only one allowed to do the orderin’, and he won’t be back from his huntin’ trip for a few days.”
In my peripheral, I saw Misely’s mouth gape in time with the widening of my eyes. “Why can’t you order it?” I demanded, trying and failing to keep my temper at bay.
“Paulie is the only one allowed to do the orderin’. His shop, his rules.” The man’s tone was apathetic, and I knew it wouldn’t do any good to argue with him.
“Well, are there any other shops around? We’re on a pretty tight schedule.”
“‘Fraid not. We’re the only auto shop ‘till St. Rawlins, and that’s about an hour out.”
This time, the curse fell free. Pulling up the directions on my phone, I weighed my options. St. Rawlins was, in fact, about forty-five minutes out but it was at least in the general direction we were headed anyway. The engine was already ticking. If the belt snapped before we could replace it, there was a pretty solid chance that the engine would go to shit. “We’ll have to chance it. Let’s go, Blondie.” To the man I said, “Thank you for your time.” Because I’m not a complete asshole.
His bushy brows rose just slightly in surprise before he gave us a short nod. “Not a problem. Here.” He passed me a worn looking business card. “If the belt don’t last, give me a call and I’ll come get ya. We got a tow truck in the other garage.”
The car didn’t make it out of the parking lot. I put the keys back in the ignition, and the engine wouldn’t even bother to turn over. Unable to help myself, I sent my fist flying into the steering wheel over and over again until I felt the skin at my knuckles split. Beside me, Misely was stone still, her skin paler than usual. She was facing forward, not daring to look over at me with her hands squeezed tightly together in her lap. She was scared of me.
Mentally I berated myself, even as I jumped back out of the car to check under the hood. Sure enough, the belt snapped as soon as I had tried to start the engine. If we were lucky—which was at this point was highly unfuckinglikely—we would be able to replace the belt and all would be well. But it looked like for right now, we were sitting ducks.
Rodger, who had been watching from where he leaned into the doorjamb of the shop, began walking over, a toothpick caught between his teeth.
“Come on, I’ll give y’all a lift into town. I’m sure Susie’s got a room open. Then I’ll see if I can get ahold o’ Paulie and get you an ETA for when he’ll be back.”
I glanced over to Misely, who was inspecting her nails with a hip cocked against the side of the car. At least that look of frozen panic had left. She sighed and gave me an expectant look. “Pop the trunk, I need to get my bags.”
A weight settled into my stomach. This was really happening. We were delayed, yet again. Every second that passed was like a ticking time bomb in my gut, counting down until—just like the timing belt—Kyle decided enough was enough and snapped. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it right now; the control over the situation was out of my hands.
Kyle wouldn’t give a shit if the car I was using broke down. He wouldn’t care if I’d had a heart attack and was dying in the hospital. If I didn’t deliver Milo at his feet soon, he would follow through on his threat. My throat felt tight.
Misely must’ve seen something change in my expression, because hers changed to one that almost resembled concern. “Talon?” She took a single step forward, the movement snapping me out of my momentary lapse of sanity.
“How much room you got? This one packed a mall.” I hooked a thumb in her direction, dodging a hand that hovered in the air between us as I made my way to the trunk.
In less than a second, the concern vanished and was replaced with a scoff. “I packed an appropriate amount for a woman who was going on a spur of the moment trip across six states, thank you very much.”
Rodger looked her up and down before jolting back to me with a questioning brow. I gave him a subtle shake of my head. Man Speak for, You sure you know what you got yourself into with this one? And Yeah, pray for me.
Out loud he said, “I’m sure I’ve got the space. Let’s get moving before the snow comes in.”
It was a five-minute drive to The Lodge, a historic looking hotel tucked between bare trees on the outskirts of the forest. The windows inside lit up the walkway leading to the porch, and a few people could be seen beyond through the glass sipping at steaming cups of hot chocolate. It was like looking at the cover of a fucking Hallmark movie.
Rodger told us to leave our things in his truck until after he talked to Susie, the woman stated to run the hotel. Misely gave me a questioning look that I had no response for, but everything fell into place on its own within five minutes of being in the company of Susie. The expression she gave Rodger was one of pure reproach, her small arms coming up to cross over her chest.
She was a slim, older woman with white hair piled atop her head in a neat bun and thin lips pressed into a sharp line. She wore a dress that seemed almost as historic as the house we were standing in the foyer of.
“Rodger,” she scolded, her voice impatient. “Check in is at four . We can’t keep having this conversation.”
The man in question removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. It was the first I’d seen the man look anything other than bored. “I know, Miss Susie, but there’s a storm comin’ in and these folks don’t have nowhere else to go. Their car is broken down at the shop.”
Her eyes, warm despite her obvious annoyance with the man beside me, darted between Misely and me. She released a sigh, before clapping her hands together. “Oh, all right. Let’s see what we’ve got available. Even in the snowy months we tend to book up.” She skirted around us to a podium close to the door, flipping through a spiral bound ledger. “Ah, the Lapis suite is available. You’re in luck, it’s the only one left.”
Susie smiled brightly at Misely and me, clicking her pen emphatically. “What name can I put down for the reservation?”
Misely spoke first, not hesitating to give her real name. Internally I groaned, wishing I had the freedom to shake her. But before I could give her my best you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me look, Susie was turning to me expectantly. “And what is your first name, Mr. Fisher?”
Misely’s mouth gaped, but a curl of sick satisfaction had me smiling back to the older woman. “Talon, ma’am.” Without a clue in the world to what she had just implied, Susie jotted our names down on her roster.
“Go on and get their things, Rodger. You know the drill.” He grumbled something but obeyed, toddling out the door like a well chastised child. Susie’s smile was still fixed in place, humor laced into the creases beside her eyes. “He keeps bringing me you strays after check in, he might as well get a job here as a bellhop.”
Misely, seeming to have recovered from her momentary stunned paralysis, giggled. “Does that happen a lot?”
Susie nodded. “Unfortunately, around this time of year a lot of folks run into car troubles, especially when there’s snow. There isn’t a whole lot of autobody shops in the area, and with the holidays just coming to pass, some of our locals aren’t quite back from their trips.
“Especially our Paulie. He likes to take his time in Florida with his daughter or out on his hunting trips. But no Paulie means that Rodger is out here by himself and there’s only so much he can do. A lot of the times his customers will have a bed here while they wait for their vehicles to be repaired.”
“Are there no other hotels in the area?”
This made Susie’s smile broaden. “Oh, there are. But Rodger insists—”
“There’s no better spot to stay in Elk Mountain.” Rodger’s gruff voice interrupted her, the tops of his cheeks turning pink when she gave him a scornful look. He whispered an apology her way before hefting our luggage in our general direction. “You weren’t kidding. This girl needs a U-Haul.”
Misely’s enraged harrumph paired so beautifully with fists clenched at her sides, that it made me bark out a laugh and was almost enough to help me forget what a total shit show this day had been.