Page 44 of Taken By the Bounty Hunter

Jefferson slips behind the wheel of the Charger and shuts the door, then takes my other hand in his. Together, our hands rest on the gear shift.

He says nothing at first.

“I’m not sure what’s happening,” I say.

“It seems to me like you’re having a panic attack.”

“Okay.”

“With a sprinkling of agoraphobia.”

“How do you know?”

“Trust me. I know about these things.”

When the feeling of terror passes, I loosen my grip on his hand.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“I’ll be ready to go in one more minute,” I say.

“No worries,” he says.

Jefferson swivels in his seat and grabs the lunch cooler. “One sub with cheese, one with no cheese.”

“What are you doing?”

“We’re having a picnic.”

“But I ruined our date. You still want to have lunch with me?”

“You didn’t ruin anything. And to answer your question, yes. I want to have every lunch with you. I want to have every breakfast, dinner, brunch, high tea, and elevensies with you.”

I smirk. “Elevensies?”

“I have to keep my calories up or I get cranky,” he says.

Laughing feels good.

Celebrating and remembering feels good.

Today, though, we’re celebrating a win. My uncle, who’s long been the enforcer for The Prophet, is dead. I don’t celebrate the fact that I killed a man. But his reign of terror is over. Orlyn Moffatt is sitting in a county jail cell.

The continued upheaval in the church means Olivia, Louisa, Goldie, and the rest of the gang have been able to help more people get out of the church.

And today, the sun is shining. Even if I don’t want to go outside just yet.

I carefully unwrap my sandwich. My stomach growls, and I’ve forgotten what scared me a minute ago.

I feel better when the food hits my stomach.

“So. How long did they lock you up?”

He asks this abruptly as if asking about my favorite color.

I nearly drop my Coke.

“What?”

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