Page 18 of Ravens
“You have.”
“I haven’t made a single fucking deal, especially not with you,” I hiss.
“You will.”
The waitress slips the bill between us, and I put the twenty on it, shaking my head in disbelief. Why fucking me? How’d I get so lucky?
“The hell I will.” I reach for my bag of bullets and wince. “I want to get out of Chicago, now.”
“Agreed, and as soon as you recognize that we’re all being used in this, it will get easier. You’re going to play your part, and I’m going to play mine.” He pulls me in close as he stands. “It’s up to you how difficult you make it all.”
I tear away from his grip and head out the door.
Nine
Our sole mission becomes finding a way out of the city without tipping anyone off. We need something where no one will look twice at us and there isn’t much security or other hoops to jump through. I could use a break and a bit of comfort too. I’m in rough shape and doing my best to hide it from him, but at least he has cash.
We stop at a clothing store so I can pick up clean clothing and a bag. The shirt he left me this morning has blood-soaked sleeves, and my jeans are covered in grime too. After changing clothes, I get a bit of makeup to cover up my bruised lip and a bottle of painkillers to manage the rest.
York decides that a bus is the only possible option and wants to head to Virginia, although I don’t know why. At least the bus will be slow going, which will give me time to rest, and the frequent stops will allow us opportunities to change plans if necessary.
We catch a cab to the bus station and have a half hour to kill before our bus arrives, so I sit on the curb and relax. York hunkers down next to me, flicking the tickets against his palm while looking up at the sky.
“So, who are you?” I squint up into the sky myself and let out a cleansing breath.
“I don’t know what you mean.” His head tilts as he follows a bird across the sky.
“Your name.”
“Ah, well, my mother called me David, but I’ve been York for much longer . . .” he says so easily that it surprises me. I expected him to evade the question. “Do you prefer Tripoli or Theresa?”
My heart thuds like he just threatened me, and I remind myself that he has done his research thoroughly. Knowing my real name isn’t that shocking. “I haven’t been called that in a long time.”
He hums, and then his attention comes down from the sky. “Tripoli doesn’t roll off the tongue.”
“Yeah, well, York sounds pretty stupid too.” I say defensively. “Besides,mycode name was assigned. Something tells me you picked yours.”
He huffs. Almost a laugh, I guess.
“Trip is fine.”
“I’ll just call you Theresa.”
“Sounds good, Dave.”
“We don’t play by the same set of rules, little girl, and if you’re going to get mouthy, I already warned you I’d put you over my knee.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” I lean back on my hands as the sun peeks out from the clouds and warms my face. “Besides, you’re not that much older than I am, so give the big bad daddy routine a rest.”
A shadow blocks out my light, and I find him standing over me. The bus rolls up in my periphery; it’s early. The look on his face is foreboding, and I probably should have let him believe the whole spanking thing was a punishment. God forbid he comes up with something that actually sucks.
“Old enough to be in a completely different generation than you, dove.” He leans over me with his hands on his knees. “Now get your tight little ass on that bus before I get it into my head that I need to make you call me Daddy.”
There is a pulse between my legs, and even I know, he’s already got it in his head now.
***
A few hours later, we’re heading down I-90 toward Virginia, and the sun is setting through the window of a bus with only a handful of riders on it. Turning away from the dwindling sunlight, the fear from earlier has finally subsided, and I relax my shoulders from up around my ears.
