Page 42 of Bleeding Blackheart

Her soft wailing starts, and I lay back down beside her, pulling her into my arms. Before she starts screaming, I start singing to her, whispering my lullaby into her ear. I can’t help but think of Willow while I do, and my chest aches, missing my girls and wanting to get home to them soon.

Montana’s wailing stops, but her body still shakes while I hold her. I sink one of my hands into her hair, bringing her face to my chest so I can wrap myself around her body tighter. It takes a few minutes, but the trembling starts to slow, and then it stops.

I finish my song, waiting just in case she starts up again, and when she doesn’t, I hum the tune to myself until I drift off too.

19

Montana

The smell of coffee hits my nose, and I open my eyes to Gunner standing over me, fully dressed with a paper cup in his hands. “Drink. Get dressed, and pack your bag. We’re leaving in thirty minutes.”

I sit up with my head pounding and chug the brown liquid, hoping it’ll help me wake up. Today’s the day. Today we’re going to Arizona, and I’m giving Blackheart my runaway fund. Today’s the day we say goodbye to each other.

I look down and see I’m wearing a shirt that’s not mine. My nightgown peeks out underneath. I look up into two blue eyes, and he shrugs his shoulders. “You got cold.”

I smile at him and set my half-empty cup to the side. “Thanks.” An image from last night flashes in my mind, and I wonder if what I’m thinking of happened or if it was a dream. “Were you singing?”

Gunner’s mouth hangs open and he tucks his hands in his pockets. “The fuck would I be singing for?”

Maybe I was dreaming. But no—I couldn’t have been.

I had the nightmare again. The one where my father . . . and then it just stopped. It stopped right before my father slammed his head into mine, and then I heard a voice. A man’s voice. Singing to me.

I sit on my heels and look up at him. “You were singing to me. I heard you.” He sang me to sleep. My angry, kidnapper, ass-beating cowboy sang me to sleep.

His cheeks turn bright red, and he rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Get your ass up. I want my money, and then I want to be on my way.”

Any bit of joy I just had turns into nothing at his brashness. This is what our entire arrangement has been about. Three days ago, he saved me for the sole purpose of a higher payout. And he’s right. We need to get to the money, and we need to do it fast. I was supposed to be dead by today, and since I’m not, Mason Barnes will be after me again. I can’t let him find me again.

I pull myself out of bed to use the bathroom and find my single T-shirt and a pair of denim shorts to put on. Gunner gathers his things, and I ignore my nausea while I brush out my hair. I need to wash it, and I need to do it soon. But right now, we need to get out of here.

After I put on my black rugged boots, we head out to the truck and get inside. Gunner hands me his shades, and I put my seat back while he drives down the road.

I play with my fingers as he drives, and after an hour, my mood starts to sink lower. Usually he tries to get a conversation going with me, but today, he hasn’t said a word.

Did he mean a damn thing he said to me last night? He revealed things I never expected him to, and I’m starting to wonder if I imagined the entire thing. Did he just say all of that so I wouldn’t run off in the night? Am I really nothing more than a money bag?

I wait another thirty minutes for Gunner to say something, and when he doesn’t, I start to drift off. My worries start to fade while the low vibrations from the moving truck lull me to sleep.

When I wake up, it’s noon, and we’re halfway to our destination. After filling up gas, we stop at some pancake house, and I’m suddenly reminded that I haven’t eaten today.

I wait for Gunner to hold my hand after he helps me out the truck, and when he doesn’t, I realize it’s time to face the music.

We’re seated quickly, and he holds out a chair for me to sit next to him, but I take the one across from him instead. After we get our menus, he takes off his white hat and finally speaks to me. “What’s this goddamn attitude about?”

I keep my eyes on the laminated page in front of me, trying to figure out what I can stomach. “What attitude?”

“The attitude you’ve had since you got dressed this morning, Montana.”

I feel my emotions brewing within me, getting ready to rush out like a geyser when I put my menu down. “I’m just tired and ready to be done with all of this. Why don’t we just hurry up and eat, and then we can go our separate ways.”

He puts his menu down, looking at me like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. Unlike our other meals, he doesn’t order for me. We choose different options, me with a BLT and him with pancakes, and after we eat, we go back to the car, and once I give him the address to the shed, I sleep the rest of the way.

I’m woken up a little after six p.m. with a nudge on my shoulder. My eyes trail up the white dress shirt in front ofme, and then I look into the cerulean pools that I met three days ago. Gunner holds out his hand to help me out of the truck, and I take it, still feeling tired and not wanting to fall on the gravel.

The sun is still high, but I feel cold. Like something is lurking nearby, waiting and watching. But I’m probably just freaked out being several rows deep into the storage lot with no one else here but me and my companion. I go up to my unit, typing in the code I have burned in my brain, and once we double-check that no one’s around, I open it, holding my breath the entire time with my eyes closed.

When the door is pushed all the way to the top, I open my lids, and my knees buckle when I see what’s before me.

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