17. Sebastion #2
“Nah, that’s your trauma brain, Princess.
You don’t need to apologize for existing.
” I drop my guy and turn to the other, moaning and attempting to climb to his hands and knees.
Since she felt the need to say sorry for this shit, I wind my foot back, then I swing it forward and destroy the side of his face with the steel tip of my boot.
He flies six feet to the right and wipes out the candy shelf, sending bottles of mouthwash crashing to the floor on the other side.
Individually wrapped toothbrushes fly like shrapnel.
Packaged shower loofahs bounce like beach balls at a rave.
Finally, finally, the cashier sprints back to his post, wide-eyed and horrified and completely fucking clueless to the bullshit that almost went down in his store. “What the hell, man?”
“I just stopped a sexual assault.” I hook my hand around the back of Scarlett’s head and tug her against my chest. Maybe she doesn’t want me to touch.
Maybe she’ll shove me away. Fuck knows, I’m probably the last guy on earth she wants to be near.
But she loops her arms around my hips and squeezes tight, howling into my chest like I may be the only thing tethering her to this planet.
“She called for you! She begged for help, and you were…” I glance around.
“Where? Out the back pulling your dick?”
“No, I was—”
“I don’t actually give a fuck. You weren’t here when she needed you.
You have a duty to your customers, and she has a right to feel safe when she’s looking for snacks.
Now your bitch ass is gonna spend the rest of today cleaning this place up.
” I wrap my hands around the sides of Scarlett’s neck and force her back until I’m met with tormented eyes and trembling lips.
“You probably shoulda tried shoving a knife into his brain. It never fails.” I risk a small smile and breathe a little easier when her sorrow doesn’t grow worse.
I mean, it’s not better, either. But still.
I reach around and take her wrists in my hands, then pulling them to the front, I pluck my shiny credit card from the tight grasp of her fingers and exhale a soft chuckle.
“I’m proud of you, babe. You didn’t let me down.
” I snatch the last remaining jumbo bag of chips still on the shelf and press them gently to her chest. “Time to go. The cops’ll be here soon, and I don’t plan on sticking around to chat with them. ”
“What?” She stumbles forward as I herd her toward the front doors. “We’re not staying to make a statement?”
“Fuck no.” I wrap my hand around her wrist and get her moving. Already, the clerk has his phone in hand. “We’re leaving. And we’re not paying for these, either.” I snatch a twelve-pack of water bottles stacked by the door, and the bottle of soda Scarlett already picked and dumped earlier.
“I’m calling the cops!” he screeches. “They’ll find you.”
“No, they won’t.” I drag Scarlett out of the store and onto the smooth driveway. Cameras face every pump and document license plate numbers and the make and model of every car filling up. They’ve probably got facial recognition technology, too.
“We can’t steal!” Scarlett’s feet move at an almost run just to keep up with my stride. “Sebastion! The cops will—”
“Nothing. The cops will nothing.” I unlock my truck and swing the driver’s side door open. Tossing her forward, I guard her back as she climbs in, then I lob our water into the back and slide into my seat.
“Sebastion! You can’t—”
“Seatbelt.” I peel out of the gas station driveway and drop my phone into the cradle on the dash. While I wait for it to connect, I snag Scarlett’s seatbelt and fasten it for her. “That place is older that Noah himself, and their cameras ain’t shit.”
“Even shit cameras will—”
“Hush.” I unlock my phone and tap on Mav’s name. Hitting the highway in seconds, I blindly reach into the back seat and find my hat, then pulling it low over my eyes, I glance up again as our call connects. “Mav?”
“You’re not very subtle, are you, Bas?” He shakes his head. I can’t see him. Obviously. But I feel it. “Hanging up the way you did got me a little curious, so I called tech and had her pull up the security feed for that gas station you were at.”
“Good. So you know what I’m telling you to do.”
He scoffs. “It’s already done. We watched you destroy a couple of Richards, save the damsel, bitch out the cashier, and steal… vodka?”
“Water,” I snort. “And the damsel can hear you. You’re on speaker.”
Scarlett stares across at me, her breath still racing, her heart still pounding. And fuck, her jaw still quivering.
“It’s not often Bas is assigned the really pretty ladies, Ms. Castro. You okay after that nonsense?”
“Y-you saw what happened? With the guys—”
“The guys who wouldn’t take no for an answer? Yeah, I saw. You don’t own a knife or anything? You were within perfect striking distance to addle that motherfucker’s brains. Little twist to the left,” he sing-songs. “Little thrust to the right. Swirl it around…”
Scarlett’s face turns green.
“That’s enough,” I snicker. “She’s not interested in your tutorial. Footage is deleted?”
“Yeah.” From whimsical to business, his tone changes. “It’s done. La Bruja’s gonna be pissed. For more reasons than one.”
“It happens. I’ll see you later tonight.”
“Yep.” He doesn’t bother saying goodbye. Not while we have an audience. He simply ends our call, so my stereo goes back to playing music, and in my peripherals, Scarlett brings her feet to the chair and her thumbnail to her lips.
“Don’t do that.” I tug her hand down again and swap it with a pen, then when I’ve put about ten miles between the gas station and us, I tear the truck onto the shoulder, skid to a sharp stop, unsnap my seatbelt, then I jump out and move to the back.
“What are you doing?” Warily, Scarlett opens her door and leans halfway out. Though her seatbelt stays on. “Sebastion? What are you—”
“Swapping my plates.” I unclip the old, just in case that clerk memorized the numbers, fold it in half so I remember they’re spent, then I toss it, grab a fresh set, clip them into place, and stride to the front.
“We’re good to move again now.” I zip away from the side of the road and increase my speed until we’re moving with the traffic, sliding amongst family cars and contractor trucks brimming with ladders and all the shit they need for a day on the job.