Page 61 of Wanted

“No, which one do you normally like to use?”

She stops her fidgeting to look at me. “How do you know I have a preference?”

Without taking my eyes off the assortment of spiral-bound books, I dig into my pocket and retrieve her note from the day she stole my van. “Anyone who can draw like this doesn’t get that way without practice.”

“You kept my drawing?” she whispers.

“No.” I tuck the slightly worn paper back into my jeans, along with my vulnerability. “I kept your note as evidence in case you decided to steal my van again. The drawing is a bonus.”

That isn’t the truth and we both know it.

She looks behind us both ways before walking into the aisle. After a short perusal, she selects a spiral-topped notebook and continues down the aisle to the pencils on the other end. She pokes her head out, looking left and right. Her shoulders fall, and she turns her attention toward the rack.

“Frankie?”

She quickly grabs a pack of wooden pencils. “Hmm?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She drops the items into the basket. She steps around me and looks up and down the main aisle again.

I catch her wrist. “He’s not here.”

Guilt clouds her brown eyes.

“I promise he isn’t going to come near you again.”

“How do you know that?”

Blindly, I reach into the basket until my fingers find the cell phone. I hold the packaging up. “Because this is for you. As soon as we get home, I’m programming mine and each of my brothers’ numbers in here. If you see him, you call me. If you can’t reach me, you call one of my brothers. Until you remember what happened, we’re going to assume he’s dangerous, and that means we have your back until he’s no longer a threat.”

“It’s a big ask.”

“Nobody knows the meaning of family more than the Powells, and you might have just got here, but they’ve already claimed you. Just ask any one of my siblings.”

15

Frankie

I never imagined a cell phone could be so heavy.

I study the black rectangle clenched in my fist. The screen lights up with the pressure, revealing the image of Ashe I set as my background. Her black snout is centered on the screen so that I can give her a nose boop throughout the day. Seeing the big puppy that keeps me warm at night settles some of my nerves.

The contact list is already long. Jude filled in each of the Powells just like he said he would. The men are all numbered one through five in order of who I should call if Dillon shows up, and it groups them together, bypassing the alphabetical function.

1. Jude

2. Jack

3. Lee

4. Aiden

5. Corjan

His sister, the partners, and his mom are all listed alphabetically, as well as the number to the Sanctuary and Jack’s motel.

The other day, I programmed in the only numbers I cared to remember from home. Since I used to own such a cheap cell phone that failed to work more often than not, I memorized any numbers I thought could be useful. Even after a few weeks, they were easy enough to recall. Lola from the boutique where I sold my art, two other friends from home, and my parents. The last one is the source of my current turmoil. I’ve been putting off reaching out for weeks now, and while there’s nothing particularly special about today, it seems just as good as any to make that call.

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