Page 29 of Sinner
Twelve
Flint was so farout of his league he couldn’t think. The police sirens blaring on the other side of the street didn’t help.Not after us.They were fine. They’d escaped. He didn’t even know where he was driving. He just drove. Away would be good. Another fucking country better.
What he’d witnessed had left him paralyzed with fear.
Those soldiers discharged their weapons without considering the children in the van. They were so goddamned lucky that not a single bullet pierced the metal walls of the vehicle. He’d almost had a heart attack when the first gun had fired. If it weren’t for Mary—
His brain emptied.
Mary.
Fuck.
Fucking Super Woman that’s who.
Christ. He scrubbed his face and blew air through his nose. The shakes still wracked his body, aftershocks of adrenaline sporadically firing his nerve endings, lighting them up with nowhere to go. He was seriously jacked. He did not understand how she was so calm. Years of training, she’d said. Training as what? A mother-fucking-ninja? His fists tightened around the steering wheel, making his knuckles blanch. His foot tapped the floor. A quick check in the rearview showed the kids sleeping. They’d survived. More resilient than him.
It was okay. The kids were okay. Well, most of them were okay.
Shit.
Not okay. He rolled down the window and breathed the cold fresh air lest he vomit.
For the past forty minutes, he’d recounted the events in his head, seeing if he could come up with a different scenario, one where Gloria and the girl survived… but he couldn’t. He slammed his fist on the steering wheel, making Mary jolt.
He knew deep down there was no way they could have gone back for Gloria and Despair and save the rest of children at the same time. The guards were there.
Sure, Mary knew some serious Mission Impossible shit… he gulped—he had a flash of blood spraying, a guard’s artery being hit—he squeezed his eyes shut and forced the macabre image away, then opened to watch the road whiz by in the dark.
His fingers twisted on the wheel, making the leather squeak. He didn’t know what to think. They had had guns. They had fired. It was the only thing Mary could have done.
It was them, or us.
It was a miracle none of them had been hit.
He glanced at her and caught a snapshot of her profile, dark and brooding against the flashes of street light through the passenger window. The wind from his window whipped her hair around. She was so beautiful in that moment. So strong. So calm. She had single-handedly saved their fucking lives. He wanted to pull the van over, drag her from the car and kiss her senseless. He was in awe.
Flint rolled up his window.
Mary leaned forward to check the side mirror with a flicker of a frown, then settled back in her seat. Flint kept darting his gaze to watch her. Her arched black brows, her cute nose, full lips. A graceful neck that led down to… his gaze darted from her collarbone and over her shoulder to a blood stain on the back seat. She’d been hit. Blood oozed from a spot on her shoulder. He hadn’t noticed before because of her red neck scarf.
“Mary, you’ve been shot,” he said, breath hitching.
She didn’t respond.
“Mary.”
“It’s just a graze,” she mumbled vacantly.
Maybe she was in shock. The woman had just bled for them. The least he could do was see to her injuries, see about getting these kids to a safe place. Then he could figure out what the fuck he was doing next.
“Right. I’m stopping at a motel. It’s late.”
An odd look flickered over her face. For a minute, Flint thought she would not respond, but then she nodded. “A motel is a good idea. The abbey is too far to reach tonight.”
Ten minutes later, Flint pulled the van into the parking lot of a faded highway motel just off the expressway. It was the first one they’d found. The sign flickered and was missing a letter, but the lot was clean and half full. He hoped that was a good sign. More patrons either meant decent motel, or druggies and undesirables. They needed a place to crash for the rest of the night and recoup. He parked the van and paid for their largest twin share room with cash, making their stay untraceable.
The room wasn’t huge, but clean and private. Maroon curtains blocked the windows. The walls were mustard, and the paper peeled in places, but there was a TV, a bar fridge, a microwave and a small dining table. A modest couch lined a wall, and there was a bathroom behind a door. Two big quilted beds sat side by side. He pushed them together. It would be big enough for the kids to sleep on. There was a bassinet buggy in the van for the newborn. Mary could take the couch, Flint would sleep on the floor. He’d go out for extra blankets as soon as they settled. It wasn’t great, but it would do for a few hours.
