Page 110 of The Way We Win

We’re quiet, and I shrink down in my seat. Up to now, it was just a kidnapping. Up to now, I didn’t know what to expect. Now I’m afraid.

Now somebody might die.

“I’ve heardthere’s some really nice places in Mexico.” We’ve arrived at our old shotgun house near the river.

At night the trains go by, laying on the horn as they pass street after street. During the day, the barges float by overhead, taller than the streets below, the waters of the Mississippi River held up by the levees.

Rip replaced the zip ties with nylon rope. I guess he decided it wouldn’t look like I came to him out of the goodness of my heart if I have ugly purple bruises around both my wrists. That might indicate force.

“You could live on the beach,” I continue, doing my best to redirect his thinking away from a gun fight. “You could start doing hair again. You were really good at it.”

It’s how I met him. He was punk rock, cool and edgy. Skinny in a ripped white tee with tattoos and a gold-toothed smile, and I thought he was the most fascinating man I’d ever met.

“You liked having my hands in your hair, didn’t you baby?” He looks up from where he’s packing a bag to give me a smug grin.

“I couldn’t believe you weren’t gay,” I quip.

“That’s a stereotype.” He throws a pair of socks intothe duffel.

“Stereotypes exist for a reason.” I’m in a chair at our table, and I shift away from him to look at the dark window. “I so naive, thought I was in love. Now I know what real love looks like. It’s kind and generous…”

“If some man’s being generous to you, he wants in your pants.”

“If a man’s being kind and generous, you’d be surprised how far that goes toward a womanwantingto sleep with him.”

He walks over to where I’m perched, his boots thumping on the hardwood floors. “You never had a problem in that department, did you, Allie-girl?”

“What are you doing with that bag?” I nod in the direction of the bed.

“We’re going to Jackson to meet up with Donnie. He’s got a lawyer who’s going to get me a meeting with the judge.”

“Donnie’s a two-bit hood.” I lift my chin. “How much is he charging you for that favor?”

Rip’s eyes narrow, and he pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You used to be sweet. I don’t like this new attitude.”

“Hell, I wonder why my attitude changed.” I hold his gaze. “It couldn’t be because I was chased through a maze, knocked out, kidnapped, and now I’m tied to a chair. That would be a silly response.”

“If I thought you’d help me on your own, I wouldn’t have to do any of this.”

“You realize how crazy that sounds? You’re not that far gone, are you?”

He blows a breath through his lips and clomps across the room to the bed. “We’ve got to find something for you to wear. You can’t go looking like… Miss Priss or whoever.”

“Jane Austen.”

“Who’s that?” He frowns at me, and I shake my head. “Maybe Donnie can find something.”

“So we’re going to Jackson tonight?” My chest tightens.

I’ve been holding onto the hope that Garrett knows where I am, since Rip had to register his address with his parole officer. They’ll never look for me in Jackson, Louisiana. It’s 100 miles north of here, and I have no connection to the place.

“We’ll sleep here tonight and get on the road in the morning. Donnie’s not expecting us until around noon.”

I exhale a quiet breath while holding my expression steady. I don’t want to appear too relieved and make him suspicious.

“Am I sleeping in this chair all night?” Annoyance helps.

“No way, baby.” He grins, walking over to me. “You’re sleeping in the bed tonight with me.”

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