Chapter 17
Elara
I zip around the room and bathroom, trying to gather everything of mine. I come to a halt as I process what Ryder just said. ‘Let’s’. I drop everything I’m holding onto the bed and look down at the unpacked bag, closing my eyes. As much as I don’t want to say this, I know I have to. "I can't let you come with me, Ryder." The sound of his movement ceases instantly.
"What are you talking about, El?" He asks, a solemn tone to his voice. I open my eyes and look up at him. "By staying with me, you're insinuating yourself as an accessory. Even though I'm innocent, they'll still see you as an accomplice." I hesitate, sighing. "I know how we feel about each other, but you have no reason to risk your life for me. What we have is new and who knows, you might decide you hate me in a month. I can’t let you ruin your life on account of me. "
He walks over to me and puts a hand on my face, cradling it while using his other hand to hold mine. My light eyes meet his dark ones as tears threaten to escape. "I need you to listen to me. How I feel about you is the exact reason I will risk my life for you. And I could never hate you. As much as I tried to deny my feelings before, I knew where I stood the moment I walked into Hartwell’s office… I'm staying with you. We’re going to figure this out together and it'll all be okay." A tear slides down my face as I smile, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him.
Maybe having a partner isn't so bad after all. Ryder has shown me that, in more ways than one, and I will be forever grateful for it.
“So, where to?” Ryder asks, wiping the tear from my face. “I’ve always wanted to go to France.” I offer, like we’re going on a spontaneous vacation, and he grins. “France it is.” He replies, kissing my forehead.
He steps back, turning around to keep packing, and I follow suit. I’m not even folding any of my clothes, I’m just shoving them into the duffel. I may get wrinkly clothes but as long as the bag closes, I don’t care. Now is not the time to be meticulous about clothing presentation.
We have packed everything and cleared the room of anything suggesting our presence. We also took the liberty of tossing our government issued devices and our personal phones in the garbage. Wherever we end up staying, we’ll get burners.
I take my bag and head for the door, Ryder right beside me. I open the door, peeking my head out to make sure there’s no one in the hall. I walk out, making a beeline for the stairwell. The lobby is empty for the early afternoon and thankfully, there’s no sign of agents inside or out. Once we get outside, Ryder walks towards the rental and I stop.
“We can’t take the rental. They’ll put out an APB for it as soon as they see it’s gone.” He nods and tosses the keys in the driver’s seat and shuts the door. “Where can we get another ride, then? France is over nine hours from here and flying isn’t an option.” I hesitate, looking around. “We’ll walk to the next town over. It’s less than two miles from here.” I respond.
We walk the mile and a half and come across an alleyway between the first two buildings. There’s a blue sedan parked along the curb and I walk over, trying to open the doors. “Isn’t this a little bright for being on the run?” Ryder chimes in. “Exactly. They’d expect us to choose a more discreet car; like black or white. They won’t immediately suspect a sparkly blue one.” I reply, grabbing a rock from the ground. I back up to avoid the glass and throw the rock through the window, shattering it. I unlock the door and use my sleeve to brush the broken glass off the seat. Once I get in, I reach under the steering wheel panel, looking for the starter cables. Ryder moves around to my side to see what I’m doing. Thankfully, the car is older, so the panel doesn’t have a cover.
"Are you sure this is a good idea, El?" He asks, keeping watch. I huff. "I'm being framed for murder and espionage, and I’m probably on someone’s hit list. Do you really think I give a shit about grand theft auto right now?" He moves my head from side to side and shrugs his shoulders. " Fair enough, carry on." He concurs, and I snort as I continue pulling at the wires.
I separate the wires, keeping my grasp on the red, purple, and orange ones. I mutter quietly to myself, going over the steps. “The orange and red go together and then bridge the purple.” I take a screwdriver out of my bag, turning the ignition. “Do you always pack a screwdriver with you?” Ryder asks, looking at me as if I just pulled it out of thin air. “Never know when you might need it.” I shrug.
I guess this is my life now; hot-wiring cars and running from the feds. How the hell did my life go from exhilarating, toe curling, amazing to downhill and rock bottom in ?twenty-four hours?