Page 83 of Forbidden Sins

“Ten minutes,” Sebastian says, digging through the duffel. “I’ll come join you, but we have to make it quick. Nothing extra.” He winks at me, but his expression is deadly serious.

I make my way to the bathroom, wincing with every step. The wound in my side throbs with a dull, persistent ache that makes it hard to think about anything else. I turn on the shower, letting the water heat up while I carefully peel off the bandage Sebastian applied last night. The wound looks angry and red, but at least it's not bleeding anymore. The area around it is bruised black and blue, and I can see how close it came to hitting my ribs. I was very, very lucky.

I get into the shower, wincing when the hot water hits my side, stinging painfully. But it’s worth it for how good the rest of my body feels as the warmth seeps into my aching muscles. I'm just starting to wash my hair when Sebastian joins me, his broad frame taking up most of the small shower stall. He’s taken off the bandage for his shoulder wound, too, and I can see the tension in his jaw as the water hits it.

"Let me help," I say, taking the washcloth from his hand. I gently wash around his wound, careful not to touch the actual wound itself. His eyes never leave my face, and there's something in them I can't quite read—something beyond desire, beyond the urgency of our situation.

"Estella," he says softly, and just my name on his lips sends a flood of heat through me that has nothing to do with the water temperature.

"I know," I reply, though I'm not sure what I'm acknowledging. That we need to hurry? That this moment of tenderness is stolen time we can't afford? That everything has changed between us in ways I'm still struggling to comprehend?

He takes the soap back, returning the favor by washing me with the same gentle care. His fingers trace the curve of my waist, skimming over my injury with feather-light touches. Evenin this rushed moment, there's an intimacy to it that makes my heart ache. I wash my hair quickly, grimacing as the movement stretches the skin and muscle in my side, but Sebastian’s shoulder would hold up to the movement even less.

"Time's up," he says after what feels like seconds. "We need to go."

We dry off quickly, and Sebastian helps me apply a fresh bandage before doing the same for himself. I dress in the clothes he's laid out for me—one of the pairs of jeans I purchased yesterday and a simple black T-shirt that will hide the blood if any should seep through the bandage. Practical clothes for a life on the run. Not the designer labels I'm used to, but I find I don't miss them at all.

I don’t miss anything about my old life. I wondered if I might, a little bit—the excellent food, the indoor swimming pool, the hours of leisure. I miss my painting supplies and the sunroom that felt like my own private sanctuary, but those are things I can have again, if we manage to escape and get away for good. What I have now instead of luxury—Sebastian, and what we’ve become to each other, can’t be replaced if I lose him.

"How are you feeling?" Sebastian asks as we gather our few belongings. "Be honest, princess.”

I consider downplaying the pain, but the look in his eyes tells me he'll see right through it. "Like I've been shot," I admit. "And like I could sleep for another twelve hours. But I'll manage."

He nods, satisfied with my honesty. "We'll get you some painkillers at the next stop. For now, we need to focus on getting a new car and putting more distance between us and Vito's men."

The mention of my former fiancé sends a chill through me. Yesterday's confrontation plays in my mind—Vito's cold eyes, the crack of gunshots, Sebastian's body shielding mine as weran. I still can't believe how close we came to being caught. How close I came to losing Sebastian before I'd even really had him.

“I want to throw away the ring.” I glance toward the duffel, where I know Sebastian stashed it in some inner pocket after we left the first motel. “I don’t want any part of him with me any longer.”

“I can appreciate that,” Sebastian says, as he unlocks the door and checks the walkways and parking lot, gun drawn. “But we might need to pawn it at some point, princess. That ring probably cost him upward of a hundred grand. No use in throwing away cash when we might need it eventually.”

His logic is sound, as much as I hate it. I let it go, for now at least, because there’s no time to really talk about it, and I don’t want to spend what precious minutes we have arguing.

“Do you think we can lose them?” I ask as we slip through the parking lot to the truck. Sebastian throws the duffel in the backseat, sliding in to hotwire it again.

“We’re going to fucking try,” he says determinedly, as the engine roars to life. “We’ll ditch this car and pay cash for another beater. As much as I don’t love spending the money, having the cops on our tail for stolen vehicles is one more problem we don’t need.”

I can’t argue with that logic either. My breath catches in my throat as I glance over my shoulder, looking for any sign of headlights in the darkness, and Sebastian catches my gaze. “Are you alright, princess?”

“I’m scared,” I admit, looking back at him as he puts the truck into gear. “But not of the future. I’m scared of losing this—losing you—now that I've finally found something real."

He kisses me then, brief but fierce, like he's trying to imprint himself on me. "Let's go," he says when he pulls away. "The sooner we get across the border and into a different country, the sooner we can start figuring out what 'real' looks like for us."

We drive until the sun rises with no issues, sticking to the back roads. Sometime after seven, we pass through a tiny town that has one drive-through restaurant, a pharmacy, a few stores, and an old car lot that looks as if the building in the center of it would fall down with a strong wind. We stop at the pharmacy first, with Sebastian reloading my revolver and handing it to me.

“If anyone tries to talk to you?—”

“Shoot first and ask questions later.” I manage a weak smile. “I know.”

He nods, getting out of the truck and walking quickly to the pharmacy. He’s back out in ten minutes with a small bag. “I got painkillers,” he says. “Not the type of town where I can get Plan B.”

“We’ll see what happens.” I smile at him. “Right now, I want ibuprofen more than anything.”

“Let’s get something to eat, and you can take the painkillers while I negotiate a car.” Sebastian glances across the street at the drive-through. “We’ll leave the car and walk to the lot.”

I nod, leaning back in the seat and taking a slow breath as Sebastian drives us to the restaurant. We get greasy breakfast food and coffee, and I take three ibuprofen while we scarf the food down. Sebastian grabs the duffel bag and the gun, and we head down the road toward the car lot.

It takes all of twenty minutes for him to pay cash for a car, very few questions asked, especially when he gives the ancient man running the lot five hundred extra dollars above the asking price. Still, on my feet and out in the rapidly heating morning, it feels more like an hour, especially when I can’t stop looking over my shoulder.

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