Page 1 of Dark Secrets

ChapterOne

She was in desperate need of a good, stiff drink. Picking her way through Philadelphia’s maze of streets in the dark when she was running low on fuel—both for herself and for the beat-up 4Runner that seemed to shudder whenever the wind blew too hard—had a headache creeping up the base of her skull.

Getting gas was the more immediate need even as her stomach grumbled in protest, and she squinted through the haze of blowing snow, looking for a well-lit gas station. She hated getting gas in the dark. It invited far too many unsolicited advances no matter how plain she tried to make herself.

She pulled into a station boasting a ten cents per gallon discount if you paid in cash and cut the engine. Perfect. Cash was all she’d allowed herself for months because cash was untraceable.

She peeled two twenties off her meager wad of bills and stuffed the rest into the safety of her bra. She’d have to find a stopping point somewhere soon and work for a bit to save up more money before hitting the road again.

Glancing out at the parking lot, she took careful stock of the two cars parked at the pumps to her right and the sedan angled haphazardly between two spots by the gas station door. No one seemed to pay her any mind, which was exactly how she preferred it.

Pulling her jacket tighter around her, she hopped out of the car, locking it and testing the door before jogging inside to put forty on her pump. She eyed the sign that said free coffee with purchase and wondered if gas counted as a purchase.

Not that gas station coffee was any good, especially the free stuff. But she’d eaten worse to keep her going over the last year, and it would quell the incessant rumbling in her stomach that was getting harder to ignore.

Once the bored teen behind the counter rang her up, she sidled over to the coffeepot and poured herself a cup, satisfied when no one said anything. Adding as much cream and sugar as she could stand to make it palatable, she took it back outside and used it to warm her hands as much as drink while she slid the nozzle into the tank and pressed the buttons to release the fuel.

She sipped the hot liquid while the gas hissed through the line, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste. After another tentative drink, she tossed it unfinished into the garbage can and shoved her hands deep into her pockets. She’d rather starve than ingest whatever the hell that was.

The wind blew her curls into her face, so she kept her head in constant motion, making sure no one got too close to sneak up on her. The hiss of the pump slowed as the total on the digital readout neared forty, and it shut off with a thunk.

Lifting the nozzle and setting it back in the holder, she twisted the gas cap into place and climbed behind the wheel. Rubbing her hands together to warm them, she decided on her next move.

It was too late to try and make it to another city. The wind was picking up and blowing fresh snow across the roads. Driving in near white-out conditions in the dark didn’t appeal, especially when the internet on her shitty prepaid phone was spotty at best.

She was hungry, but she had practice ignoring that sensation when other needs were more pressing. Right now, finding somewhere to sleep for the night that was relatively safer than the confines of the rusted Toyota was the more immediate problem to be solved.

Unwilling to waste gas driving around looking for a motel, she used the station’s free Wi-Fi to look up some possibilities. Anything that looked halfway decent would completely wipe out what little money she had, and she needed something to get her to wherever she would rest for a few weeks to build her reserves back up.

There was a motel out near the highway, but the fact that it rented rooms by the hour was a sure sign it attracted a lot of sex workers or drug dealers. Or both. She’d learned that the hard way back in Idaho.

Ultimately she found one that didn’t look too terrible. She’d long since stopped turning her nose up at peeling wallpaper and dirty carpet. As long as it didn’t have bugs or mold, she could make it work. And this place was only fifty bucks a night.

Easing out of the parking lot, she followed the curt directions of the GPS as it sent her through the heart of Philadelphia to the other side of town. She nearly missed a turn when the internet stalled the monotone order to take a right but made it just in time. Waiting for this shitty GPS to recalculate anything made her want to scream.

The traffic had thinned in this part of the city, and she gripped the steering wheel while she followed the barely discernible tire tracks in front of her, easing away from the center line as a snowplow came toward her from the opposite direction.

She was reaching for her phone to turn up the volume when she noticed the flare of headlights and the sedan barreling toward her, impatient to escape the plow. Forced to slam on her brakes, she fought against the urge to jerk the wheel when the car fishtailed on the slick of compacted snow. The asshole had the nerve to honk at her as he whizzed past.

Breaths coming in sharp pants, she pulled even with the curb and took deep, steadying lungfuls of air. What the hell was wrong with this city? At the sound of laughter and conversation spilling out into the dark, she glanced up to see people haloed in soft light. She could just make out the warm wood tones of a bar filled with people before the door swung shut.

Tallying up the bills tucked against her skin in her head, she decided one drink wouldn’t put her too far behind. She’d still have enough for a couple nights in that motel, some food while she picked a new destination, and the gas to get her farther south and out of this goddamn cold.

Liquor might be a bad idea on an empty stomach, but maybe she could grab a quiet seat at the end of the bar and nurse a soda or something. Just to get out of the snow for a bit and let her nerves settle.

Cutting the engine, she carefully picked her way over the snowy sidewalk. The door was heavy, and it took some muscle to pull it open against the wind. The noise of the place assaulted every sense as soon as she stepped inside.

It was packed; people shoved in wherever they would fit against the bar and crowded around the tables lining the walls. A single waitress in jeans and a black t-shirt with the words The Black Orchid emblazoned across the chest scurried from the swinging kitchen door to the bar to the tables and back again so fast it was a wonder she wasn’t dizzy.

A man, tall and lean with the shadow of dark stubble over his jaw, worked the bar, rapidly pulling beers from the tap and mixing drinks. The hard set of his mouth told her he’d been at this for hours. She thought about turning around and leaving, but then he glanced up and, impossibly, met her gaze across the room.

Instead of retreating, she pushed forward, around a couple making out by the door and past a table of what looked like frat boys and claimed a spot that freed up at the end of the bar. He finished the cocktail he was mixing and set it down on a black napkin, adding the money to the till and smiling politely at the woman who flirted with him.

When he made his way to her end of the bar, something funny fluttered in her chest.

“What can I get for you?”

His voice was deep and warm, and that funny flutter kicked up a few notches. What was wrong with her? Men did not make her flutter. At least not in a way that wasn’t fear.

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