Page 42 of Consumed By the Mafia

Ryoma reconfirmed their goal, disconnected, and handed back her phone. “We need to move. Let’s cut across the road and stay in the trees for a bit before we slip up to the road on the other side. We’ll be an odd pair of hitchhikers, but that happens. We’ll make do.”

“You want tohitchhike?”

“I’d rather call a cab, but if we can’t find a rest stop or other landmark to do that from, we’ll have to deal.” He held out his hand.

Abigail cut her eyes to the SUV. “Can we really afford to abandon that?” She wanted to get going, she didn’t know why she was hesitating.

“Absolutely. It’s not in either of our names, I’m guessing your prints aren’t even linked to your real identity, and Mikey’s already aware of the risk. Right now, what we need most is distance. The cleaners will be here in a few minutes to do the rest.”

The part of her that was FBI and had been struggling for months to attach anything of substance to the De Salvo name had the powerful urge to sit right there and wait for these magical cleaners. These people who could make murder scenes either disappear or lose all evidentiary viability. But she knew that was unreasonable. More than unreasonable, it was stupid. So Abigail nodded, mostly for herself, and took his hand. “Okay. Let’s go.”

They jogged across the street and Ryoma opted to backtrack into the thicker brush of the trees until they found a trail they could follow out toward the interstate. He wasn’t sure how far from anywhere Gerardo might have taken them, so he remained firmly unoptimistic as to their chances at finding a good place to pause and call up a cab. Not that cabs were ever the first choice, but under certain circumstances they could be useful.

He was sure Abby was as surprised as he was at the sight of the small gas station tucked alongside the road, almost directlyacross from where they emerged. And there was a yellow cab parked off to the side of the lot.

Abby held tighter to his hand. “We have to cross the interstate, don’t we?”

He grinned down at her. “At least this is the narrower section.” He encouraged her to start walking, keeping himself between her and the racing traffic. It was shortly after the morning rush, for what that was worth, but traffic was never nonexistent on major roads. “We’ll just run. If someone flashes blue lights at us, we flip the script and you whip out that badge of yours.”

“That’s aterribleplan,” Abby said as another vehicle whizzed by.

She wasn’t wrong. But getting busted by a cop eager to score favors with their new protective crew by hauling in one of the Dragon’s heavies was worse.

Ryoma took a few seconds to scan traffic, his head swiveling from side to side. They were outside of town, but not by as much as he’d initially thought. The flow of traffic was still somewhat impacted by the previous intersection, and that was helpful. “Get ready,” he said as he spotted a gap in the oncoming lane.

Abby threaded her fingers with his and he felt her draw a breath. “This is still crazy.”

He tried not to grin. She hadn’t said a word about him slicing through a man’s spinal cord, but crossing the interstate on foot she balked at. “Three.”

Her exhale carried over the roar of a passing truck.

“Two,” he said, watching the point he had his eye on open up. “One!”

They sprinted forward as soon as the closer vehicle was past, hurrying through the lane nearest them with the smaller opening and across the raised divider of mostly dead vegetation. Then it was into and quickly through the second lane. Never once did Abby’s hand slip from his. Never once did her steps falter. They hit the graveled edge of the of pit stop driveway at the same time and Ryoma released a silent breath.

The tension of their gripping hands eased to something more relaxed, but Abby made no effort to withdraw from his hold.

Side-by-side, they walked into the parking lot. Ryoma swept his gaze around, noting the open pair of gas pumps, the three other parked vehicles, and what looked like a camera tucked up over the door to the convenience store. Only the cab was parked off to the side, out of the way, almost as if it didn’t want to be seen. He angled them toward it and as soon as they were close enough for him to spot the seated figure on the cab’s other side, he understood why.

Ryoma let his lip curl. “Yo, you supposed to be smokin’ that shit when you’re driving this thing?” He dropped the knuckles of his free hand on the cab’s trunk for emphasis.

The too-skinny male with the frail looking brown hair jumped to his feet, red-rimmed pale green eyes blown wide and a blunt dangling from his fingers. Smoke wafted from his gaping mouth as he stared at Ryoma like he couldn’t believe someone had spotted him lighting up in broad daylight. “I-I’m on break, man.”

Ryoma tilted his head. “Uh-huh. How high are you right now?” They needed to get away from the area, but fuck if he was letting some stoner get behind the wheel.

The other man coughed and held up his weed. “It’s my first one!” He seemed with it enough to recognize the disbelief on Ryoma’s face, because he glanced down at the object he still held and more quietly added, “Since my shift started, I mean. I swear.”

Ryoma mulled the words, and the overall tone of the response, over in his mind. In all honesty, he’d probably taken worse risks. “Well, snuff that out. We need a ride.”

The man frowned, scrunching up his face as even more lines appeared on his skin. “Fuck. At least let me take my break, man. Gimme ten more minutes.”

As he spoke, Abby’s grip on Ryoma’s hand tightened again and she leaned into him. The fingers of her free hand dug into the skin of his exposed arm. He even thought he heard her drag in a hard breath.

Ryoma felt a scowl bend his lips and turned his focus to her. No one else had approached them, he didn’t understand what she was reacting to. He needed to know. He’d looked away from the pot-head in front of them, so he missed whatever expression crossed the man’s face before the man spoke again.

“Oh, shit. It’s you.”

Abby was shaking, but mounting rage was all Ryoma could see on her face. “Corey Wells,” she said, speaking barely above a whisper. “This—thisis what you’re doing with the life you were allowed to keep?” Her voice escalated with the intensity of each word, until she was nearly yelling.

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