18. Lucas
Lucas
18
My eyes dart again to the car behind us. It isn’t any closer than it was when I noticed it ten minutes ago, but it isn’t any farther away either. Fuck, who knows how long it was following us before I noticed?
I can't just drive straight to the airport and do nothing. "I'm going to call Alden. Have someone stay on the phone with us until we get somewhere safe or this guy gets off our ass. It's probably Allen’s PI looking for proof of a cheating spouse. I doubt they’ll approach us. He probably just paid them to tail us.”
Ezrah nods, his eyes locked on Dil in the back seat. His bottom lip is almost bloody from him chewing on it.
“Hey,” I take his hand again over the center console. “I meant what I said. I’m going to protect both of you. I promise.”
He avoids my eyes. “I know. It's your job.”
I let out a sigh, heart clenching. “Oh, Ezrah, this hasn’t been work for a long time. You’re more than work.”
Before he has a chance to reply, I dial the main Alden number, Marie’s voice comes in clear over the car's speakers.
“Two calls in under an hour, Lucas. What’s happening?” her tone is light, almost joking but I can hear the knife of concern underneath.
“Hey, Marie. Heads up you’re on speaker. We’re driving now.”
“Good, I’ll ask again. Why are you calling me?”
“It could be nothing.”
She huffs. I can almost hear the eye roll. “Or?”
“Or we could be being followed.”
I can hear her typing aggressively on her keyboard. “I would hand you over to Marcus, but he’s actually not here for a change. Okay. How are you doing on gas?”
“That’s the other problem.”
“You’re kidding me.”
I let out a sharp laugh, eyes glancing back down at the fuel gauge. “I wish. Not sure how it happened, but we’ve got less than a quarter tank.”
“Sounds to me like you think you know what happened, but I guess there’s time for that later. How much do you figure you need to make it to the airport?”
“Just over half a tank.” I look over to see Ezrah starting to panic and wince. Fuck. maybe I shouldn’t have called.
“Alright,” she brings the focus back to the call. “That’s what I thought. Wait a little while to see if you can lose him, if you can’t pick a station with decent traffic, be quick and stay on the phone with me.”
“Got it.”
“Ezrah, I don’t want you to get out of the car.”
He nods, then seems to remember that she can’t see him. “I can do that. I’ll stay in the car.”
“I mean it. I don’t care what you hear, you stay put, got it?”
“Why? What do you think is going to happen?”
“Nothing, we’re just being safe. Lucas, I’m going to get on the other line and see who we know around there that I can call in. I also need to update John. I’ll still be able to hear you, though, so holler if you need me.”
“Thanks, Marie.” I don’t know what else to say. We fall into silence as we get closer to the city. The car follows behind us, persistent no matter how many people I pass, or which turns I make. The sand falls down the hourglass and we soon have no choice but to stop.
“Marie, it’s time,” I let her know I need to pull into a station.
The static comes back on her end of the connection. “We knew this was coming. He’s still following you?”
“Hasn’t budged an inch.”
“That’s about what I thought. Alright, you have a gas station coming up on the right. Looks like it should be busy enough. Keep me on the phone.”
“I will,” I spot the gas station up ahead. It’s small, three pumps and a store, but one of the pumps is occupied and there are two other cars in the lot. If someone was avoiding witnesses, this was indeed busy enough. It’s still a calculated risk. “I’m pulling in now.”
I park in front of one of the empty pumps and turn to Ezrah. “Whatever happens, don’t get out of this car. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He grabs my hand, “Lucas, wait!” then his lips are against mine.
As quickly as he started he pulls back. “Be safe.”
I get out of the car and work to fill up the tank as quickly as humanly possible. Sure enough, a few seconds later, the green car pulls in, parking right next to us.
A completely average-looking man gets out. He’s brown and brown, probably five foot eleven, and has an average build. There’s nothing notable about him at all except the rage on his face. He slams his door behind him and stomps over to me. “Who the hell do you think you are?” he yells.
“Can I help you?” I ask mildly, putting my body between him and the car.
“Yeah, you can give me my husband back.”
I smile, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do that.”
“What?”
“As far as I can tell, you don’t have one.”
“Because you stole him you fucking asshole!”