Page 107 of Bad Seed
“Aubry!” I point to them and start to crouch down.
He floors it. Right toward the line of men. They dive to the side, unable to get a shot off until we’re flying past. Bullets erupt around me, tearing through the truck bed.
I cover my ears and start to scream. Then I grab Astin’s carrier, nestle him in my lap, and cover over him.
The truck leaps under us, wheels squealing on asphalt, before it peels out into the lights.
All the while, Aubry calmly stares ahead. It’s not until we’re past the casinos that I risk sitting up. Light shines through a hole right above my head.
As I strain my finger up through the exit wound that was nearly in my skull, Aubry sighs. “I’m not getting that deposit back.”
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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
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AUBRY
I slide into the room with a bag of tacos in one hand and the Glock in the other. The lights flicker on the other side where she’s sitting on the bed. She hasn’t said much since we made it out of Crudité with our lives. I don’t know what I want her to say.
I forgive you.
Thank you for saving me.
It’s totally cool that you’re a wanted murderer who could kill me. Tear my clothes off and take me.
“I brought dinner,” I say, setting the steaming bag down on the dresser. She stirs, sliding her legs out from under her.
My shirt I loaned her strains at her belly and chest, the buttons just begging to be torn open. There was no chance she could wear my old sweatpants—I’d have ripped them off with my teeth if she did.
“What is it?” she asks, still holding Astin who—upon being let out by Sadie—refused to leave her lap.
“Tacos, a mess of them, and I think some tater tots or something. I don’t know exactly. I just asked for what’s popular and doubled it.”
She nods and tries to delicately untie the bag. Her empty stomach screams out for food. Without thinking, I tear the bag apart. Tacos roll across the dresser toward her. She blinks a moment as if needing to be ladylike while eating fast food tex mex in a seedy motel. But her hunger, and the fact they left her starving for days, wins over. Grabbing two, Sadie works her way back to the bed.
I’m not hungry, but I pick up a taco anyway and stand awkwardly between the bed and bathroom. “Careful,” I call out as she unravels her food.
Teeth lunge before I can get a word out. Lettuce and cheese tumble to the blanket as the culprit tries to slink away with his steal.
“Astin loves Mexican food.”
“I can see that,” she says. Despite her being the one starving, she plucks a bit of meat from the tortilla and passes it to my fat cat. He’s not very delicate taking it from her hand.
Everything’s a mess. The truck’s running on fumes thanks to their bullets. I drove until it gave out, leaving us outside Vegas and at the kind of motel that charges by the hour. My clothes aren’t in much better shape, either riddled with bullet holes, or covered in various fluids from the dying truck. I had no choice but to put on an old purple T-shirt and a pair of zebra sweatpants I didn’t even remember buying.
I wish my sartorial style could be my only concern.
We eat in silence. Every time I thought of something I can say, I’d back down. Either she won’t want to hear it, she’ll hate me for it, or…she’ll leave. I can’t let her do that. Not right now.
Sadie finishes off three tacos and a mess of the tater tots. I tell her she can have the rest, but she calmly folds up her papers, then adds them to the bag.
What do we do now?
There’s one bed, cause seedy motel outside Vegas. They don’t tend to need two. But I saw the way she looked at me. When she finally understood what I am. That bed’s not going to be seeing any action tonight.
I should check the perimeter again. He’s not as connected as the Brassicas, but even Mr. Ato has his favorites in the police department. They might be checking traffic cams right now to track the truck. I reach for the gun.
