Chapter 38 – QUIN
Thirty-Eight
QUIN
A very sleeps in the back of the Rav-4 in a comfortable car seat. Deb upgraded her seat while she had custody of her in Missouri.
Juliette insists that Mariah Carey is "just as important" to brain development as classical music, so that's what we have playing in the car at a soft, gentle volume. Driving back to Santa Fe with Avery in the back, Mariah Carey playing, and a mission accomplished without either of us dying, we both feel good.
I at least wait until we pass through Kansas to express my doubts.
"Don't you think that was too easy?"
"That's the trauma talking," Juliette replies calmly.
"What are you talking about?" I grumble, wishing I could disappear into my seat. Juliette relishes uncomfortable conversations in a way that I don't.
She excitedly wriggles in her seat as if she's been keeping this conversation topic loaded in the chamber.
"Well," Juliette starts dramatically. "You keep expecting danger around every corner. You have to train your mind to believe the world is a safe place."
"There's literally a gang of Nazi bikers hunting down members of the club including my boyfriend, and possibly Avery if her mom is connected to them."
Juliette is quiet for a beat.
“Boyfriend?!” Juliette says. “Is that what’s going on?”
“Girl, I don’t know. It’s the closest I’ve ever come. I think.”
“Yes… Finally, you are admitting real feelings.”
“When did I say that?”
“You are.”
“I am not ,” I reply. “And can we focus on the Nazi biker problem?”
"Sure, there may be Nazi bikers," she says. "But we made it this far."
"I'm amazed your relentless optimism hasn't gotten you killed."
"It got me to Santa Fe," Juliette says. "And it got me to go on an awesome road trip with my best friend."
She has a point there.
"Thanks, girl. I love you too."
"See? We're fine. Just relax and don't think about anything."
"We should think about some things," I say.
"Like what?"
"That orange light."
"Oh, we have thirty more miles."
"And we're in the middle of nowhere. Let's stop at the next place for gas."
Juliette is the type of person who "knows her car" and I'm the type of person who never likes driving a car with less than half a tank of gas. She makes me nervous as hell riding around like this. It's not like I don't want to believe in her optimistic worldview. It's just... Avery.
My protective urges surrounding her are stronger than I ever expected when I signed Tanner's contract. At least we have her back. A giant exit sign calms my heightening anxiety as I watch the Rav-4 give more aggressive signals about the dwindling gas tank.
Juliette calmly veers off and coasts us into a spot in front of pump number seven. I swear we must have seven drops of gas left in the tank. She grins at me.
"I told you we would make it!"
"You are the reason I have anxiety."
"Woo!" Juliette says. "I'll pump the gas. You get the snacks. Deal?"
She reaches into her purse and hands me a $50 bill before I can protest. I don't bother protesting since I know her husband gives her a giant allowance and I am hungry as hell. Avery might need some formula and a change too, but I'll get the snacks first and then assess the situation.
The gas station is called Sinclairs. I wonder if the owners have any relation to Hunter Sinclair, Juliette's husband. She seems completely convinced about our safety here, so I assume she must be right. I walk into the gas station, suddenly nervous.
It's just a gas station. A normal one at that. There are those giant machines with flavored ice. Donuts. Several flavors of burned, watered down coffee. Tiles that smell like disinfectant. And one employee at the front. She has dark hair in a single braid that hangs over her right shoulder and hazel eyes that have at least three colors on the irises. Woah. Pretty. But she doesn't look like Juliette's husband. She looks more like Wyatt.
"Hi," she says. "How may I help you?"
I glance down at her name tag. Lacey.
"Uh... I'm just looking around."
"Would you like to try our cold brew?" she asks. "It's a new product we have and nobody out here knows what the hell it is. You look more... urban."
I don't know if I should be offended or not, but I nod and accept Lacey's offer for cold brew. She ducks to the mini-fridge behind her when the gas station's side door opens up, ringing a loud bell, which isn't necessary to announce the newcomer, who yells the second she pushes the door open.
"SOMEONE HELP!" she screams, running into the middle of the gas station floor in a panic. "HELP ME!"
Lacey perks straight up, setting the cold brew on the counter.
"What's going on, ma'am?" Lacey asks, showing enough confusion that I'm guessing this isn't some local flavor accustomed to expressing herself like this. This woman came from the other side of the gas station too, so I can't just look behind me and see where the hell she came from.
"I NEED HELP!" the woman screams, but then she looks straight at me. "COME. YOU CAN HELP ME."
I don't want to go with her -- not without telling Juliette -- but she grabs my arm and starts dragging me towards the door.
"Ma'am!" Lacey yells at both of us, but I don't hear what she says because the crazy white lady who just dragged me outside shuts the door behind us. Now, I really don't feel good.
"I should go..."
There's no one out here. But the white woman's grip on my forearm gets tight. I whip it away from her and while turning my body around, I see that we are very much not alone at all. Shit.
A tall man wearing all black and a helmet gets off a bike, walking towards the gas station door.
The woman blocks the door so I can’t get back in, trapping me there for him I assume. I don’t give her motives much thought. She's about half my size, so I do something I never thought I was capable of and I suddenly turn into a goddamn NFL player. I grab her ass and haul her out of the way.
She screams, but I scream even louder because the biker shoots at us. Well, he's probably just shooting at me, but he clearly doesn't give a fuck who he hits. The bullet nearly deafens me, but I rip the door open anyway, and since I'm still running, I assume he missed.
I need to keep moving. When I burst into the gas station, I slam straight into Lacey and smack my jaw hard on the shotgun she's holding up. Thankfully, she has the muzzle pointed at the ceiling so we both just scream loudly and shooting pain surges through my jaw from whacking my damn face against the gun.
"GET BEHIND ME!" Lacey says, swinging her black braid over her shoulder and pointing her gun straight into the screaming woman's stomach as she chases after me. Lacey shoves her back, avoiding the trigger as she shoves the woman against the glass.
The biker outside keeps approaching the door and he fires again.
"GET DOWN!" Lacey yells at me. I want to be the type of woman to jump up and senselessly join in a gunfight, but I obey Lacey's command and immediately get down on the ground. I can't just go running into battle when Avery is on the other side of this gas station and for all I know... she's their damn target.
Once I get down on the ground, I abandon loyalty to everyone except Avery and roll around to face the other door so I can army crawl to the second exit and sprint back to Juliette and Avery in the backseat. Juliette must have heard the gunshots, so I know she's in the driver's seat ready for a getaway.
I run towards the other door expecting to see Juliette outside, safely in the car, prepared to drive us both to a second location. Instead when I open the door, I nearly bowl Juliette’s wild ass over and get myself shot in the process. She yells at me to be careful and then tells me to duck. I cover my ears and duck, correct about my instincts that her crazy ass fully planned on firing that weapon. She fires and a display explodes.
“He’s down by the coffee!” Lacey screams, aware enough to recognize that Juliette is on our side. Maybe she knows her, but I can’t tell if that’s it. Juliette whips her pistol around, but there are no gunshots for a few more seconds. Then, I hear Lacey scream.
“LET GO OF HER!”
Juliette runs past me and I rise to my feet, still locked on my mission to get to Avery. Unfortunately, the gas station has turned into a war zone. I shove through the door as I hear another two gunshots — from the pistol this time. I hear Juliette screaming one last time as I open the door and run towards the Rav-4.
My first thought is to check for the keys in the car. They’re in there. The windows are down, and by some miracle… Avery is safe. I don’t know if she’s the target or not, but adrenaline pushes me to do everything in my power to escape. Juliette has a gun. Lacey has a gun… they’ll be fine.
After checking on Avery through the back window, I rush around to the other side of the car as fast as possible so I can drive. Normal driving wouldn’t make me nervous. Driving a Rav-4 faster than a motorcycle scares the crap out of me. I don’t want to flip the car. I don’t want to hurt Avery.
Glancing back one last time for Juliette, I hop into the driver’s seat. I don’t want to leave her behind but… if I don’t protect Avery, who else will? I can’t let anything happen to her. I put my hands on the steering wheel, gripping tightly, frozen in place for just a few seconds longer when I hear the gas station door open and Juliette screaming.
I can’t make out her words at first, but she wants me to know something. I move as quickly as I can, leaning over to open the passenger side door. As Juliette gets closer, I can hear what she’s saying. Finally. And it’s not good.
“THEY GOT LACEY. WE GOTTA GO EAST. WE GOTTA GO EAST.”
“East? I thought we were going?—
“DRIVE, QUIN. DRIVE THE DAMN CAR.”
I start moving before she gets the door shut. But it’s Juliette. She screams. She hollers. But she gets the door shut and I skid out of the parking lot back the way we came from. She’s my best friend. I trust her. Avery does too, clearly, because she thinks my crazy driving is hilarious and starts laughing, gurgling and clapping her hands in the backseat.
I watch the speedometer climb from 65 to 75 to 85. My hands are white knuckling the steering wheel. At least it’s flat out here, but I’m already scared as hell.
“You’re gonna have to push that shit to 100,” Juliette says. “They have five more guys stationed West that just left another Sinclairs. Lacey will have called Southpaw but… our only chance is heading East.”
“Do you think they have people stationed East too?”
“I don’t know,” Juliette says. “Step on it.”
“I can’t,” I tell her. I don’t even want to glance back over my shoulder at Avery, but she’s the main reason I can’t fuck this car up and push almost 100 miles per hour.
“They’re behind us,” she says.
“No, they’re not.”
I don’t want to look. I know she has no reason to lie but… I don’t want to accept it.
“There’s another Sinclairs in 20 miles. If you push this car to 100, we can lose them.”
“We can lose our damn lives,” I tell Juliette. My heart feels like it’s a giant ball of yarn stuck and growing in my throat.
“That man wants to kill us, Quin. I know you’re scared but at least if we die… we die together.”
“Only your crazy ass would think that’s a good thing…” I mutter. But I plant my feet on the gas and push that damn car to 105.
Let’s lose those motherfuckers…