Page 49 of Love Bleeds Red
It’s a humid summer day and the fresh air barely helps. I need food. I can’t remember when I ate last. Ten minutes go by,then twenty, when he slows to pull into a gas station. “I need a cup of coffee.”
There’s people everywhere—commuters on their way to work, parents hauling children into car seats, busy workers in commercial vehicles filling up their vans for the day. I can’t help but stare.
Sweeper’s eyes narrow and he holds up his phone.“You’ll stay by my side and I’ll let you get something to eat. If you try anything, I’ll make one call and your friends are dead. Understand?”
My friends. He must mean Cat and the others… unless he means Layne and my friends back home. God, I haven’t thought about them in too long. I let my gaze linger on the bustle out the window for another second before nodding.
“Good. Let’s go.”
He leads me through the convenience store until we reach the busy coffee counter. “Other assholes pay eight bucks for this,” he says, holding up the steaming Styrofoam. “It’s all the same shit.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I say.
“You’re not a coffee girl? Let me guess, college age… You must love those energy drinks?” He adds a splash of milk and pushes a lid on.
I shake my head. “Don’t like the way they make me feel.”
He gestures for me to lead the way. “Go ahead, pick something to eat and drink.” The coffee seems to perk him up. It’s been so long since I’ve had any agency. The choices are almost too broad. I reach for a pack of chocolate donuts, and he nods. “What else?”
“I can get more?”
“Yes, just hurry up.”
I grab a bag of salt and vinegar chips, my mouth already watering. Near the counter, I grab a water, too overwhelmedby the decisions, and at the last moment he picks up a pack of gum. The cashier, a guy who looks about my age, checks us out without even looking in our eyes. I couldn’t have signaled him for help even if I wanted to.
Sweeper shoves the bag at me to hold, and leads me back to the car with his free hand on my shoulder. It moves to the back of my neck when my gaze strays toward a woman pumping gas and staring right at us.Help me, I silently scream. She looks away quickly anyway.
Back in the car, I tear into the donuts immediately, not caring that chocolate crumbs fall onto my clean shirt. The sweetness hits my empty stomach like a shock, but I force myself to keep chewing. Sweeper pulls back onto the highway, merging into traffic with aggressive lane changes that kill my already queasy stomach.
“Easy,” he says, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “You eat too fast and you’ll just puke it back up.”
I slow down, taking smaller bites, needing to finish every last crumb. The chips are next. The sharp tang of vinegar makes my mouth water and my eyes tear up. It tastes so good I could cry. I never thought I’d be so grateful for gas station junk food.
Outside my window the view changes from city buildings to suburbs, then to what looks like the middle of nowhere. We’re definitely not going back to the house, and I’m not even sure that we’re staying in New York. My chest tightens with each mile that takes me further from everything I know. From any chance someone might be looking for me.
The clock on the car shows that another hour has gone by when Sweeper’s phone buzzes. He answers it through his Bluetooth, his voice changing to that same friendly tone from earlier. “Yeah, we’re about thirty minutes out... No issues... She’s been compliant.”
Fire runs through my veins.She’s been compliant. Like I’m cargo being delivered. I guess I am… but to hear him say it that way disgusts me.
“Copy that. See you soon.” He ends the call and catches my eye in the mirror again. “We’re almost there.”
“Where’s there?”
My question goes unanswered.
Twenty minutes later, we turn off the main road onto a smaller one, then through an unmanned gate. A sign readsPrivate Airfield - Authorized Personnel Only.My heart starts pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.
“No,” I whisper, not believing what I’m seeing. He’s taking me on a plane. Flying me God knows where.
The airfield comes into view, where a sleek white jet stands waiting, engines running. It might as well be a casket.
“I can’t get on that plane.” I reach for the door handle, desperate to get out of the car. It’s child-locked. “Please, don’t do this.”
Three men in dark suits stand near the aircraft staircase, watching as Sweeper parks the car. He turns in his seat to face me fully for the first time during the ride. His face shows something that might be sympathy or maybe just exhaustion, but it’s gone so quickly I might have imagined it.
“You can walk onto that plane, or I can drag you. Your choice.” He opens his door. “But either way, you’re getting on.”
The men in suits approach the SUV, like a dark cloud closing in. One opens my door while the other flanks the vehicle. I keep my eyes locked on Sweeper’s, shaking my head again and again. What can I do? There’s nowhere to run. Even if I could somehow get away, I’m surrounded by empty fields with nowhere to hide. I’m utterly alone.
