Page 127 of Past Due

Mom nodded. “Okay. If you trust him, I trust him.”

“What about the Weasel?” I asked nervously. Besian had neatly tied up all the other loose ends, but no one had mentioned the creep who had been following me and Rina in Albania.

Mom sat forward. “Weasel? What weasel?”

“Adrienne’s husband,” Besian explained, filling in the gaps. “He’s the one who was following Marley and my niece around and threatening them.” Besian grasped my hand and interlaced our fingers. “The Weasel isn’t a problem any longer.”

“Zec?” I guessed.

Besian shook his head. “Luka.”

“Luka?” I echoed in surprise.

“The man threatened his sister and his aunt and the sister of his best friend. Honor demanded it.”

Honor. Loyalty. Blood. Family. All the things that mattered most to Besian were becoming things that mattered the most to me.

We stopped only once on our drive to Freeport, popping into a small gas station to use the bathroom and buy something to drink. When we reached Freeport, the chemical scent in the air turned my stomach. Besian asked me to find the address for a specific motel, and I used my navigation app to get us there.

He asked me to check the burner phone he had used to call Zec earlier. There was a text message with a room number, and he parked in front of it. I learned forward to get a better view of the dingy, old place. It was the sort of motel that looked like it hadn’t been updated or renovated in fifty years, lots of crumbling masonry, dirty windows and flimsy doors that wouldn’t keep out a mosquito let alone an intruder.

My mother and I exchanged dubious looks before getting out and following Besian to the room. The door was unlocked, and he gestured for us to wait while he checked out the space. When he was satisfied the room was safe, he ushered us inside and closed the door, locking it and then peeking out the window next to it to make sure we hadn’t been followed.

“What’s this?” I pointed to the Walmart bags on the bed and the dirty red overalls with reflective striping. A pair of scuffed old work boots sat on the floor next to the bed along with a stained hardhat.

“That’s what your mother is going to wear when she leaves this place.” Besian picked up the dirty overalls and held them up in front of my mother. “They’re a little big, but they’ll work.”

Mom looked into the bags and started pulling out the items inside them. Toiletries, underwear, socks, sports bras, leggings and a package of men’s white t-shirts.

“I know it’s not fashionable,” Besian said, “but it’s the best you’re going to get on such short notice.”

“It’s fine,” Mom replied, grabbing up the toiletries. “Do I have time to shower?”

Besian checked his watch. “Yes. They aren’t picking you up for another half hour.”

“I’ll hurry,” she promised, grabbing the bag of clothing and rushing off to the bathroom.

When she was gone, Besian reached for me. He cupped my face and gazed down at me with such love and concern. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted uncertainly. “My mom just told me she killed someone and that she’s not actually my birth mom and now she’s running away forever. It’s a lot to process.”

“I know,” he murmured and kissed me sweetly. “I wish I could make all this go away, Marley. I wish I could take away all the pain you’re feeling.”

I leaned into his embrace and rested my cheek against his chest. “Just hold me,” I pleaded softly. “Don’t let go yet.”

He held me, combing his fingers through my hair and peppering chaste kisses along my face. I sought out his mouth for more intimate kisses, desperate to remind myself how loved I was and how good life could be. He returned my kisses with the passion I had grown to expect from him. By the time the shower stopped, I felt steady enough to pull away and sit on the end of the bed to wait for my mother.

“I’ll be back,” he said, heading for the door. “I need to get something out of the car.”

“Be careful,” I urged.

“I will be,” he promised. “Lock the door behind me.”

I followed him to the door and did as he asked. I returned to the bed and waited for my mother to emerge from the bathroom. She came out in a cloud of steam. Making a face, she said, “That water stinks.”

“It sure does,” I agreed, wrinkling my nose at the sulfurous smell amplified by the heat of the shower.

“The water on that ship will probably be just as bad,” she remarked nervously. “I hope I don’t get sea sick.”

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