Page 31 of Bodyguard Baby Daddy

I’m staring off at the exit lane, which turns into a merging lane for the highway, and the forest beyond.

I go back out to the lane of cars.

They’re not there either.

I get down on my knees and peek under all the cars. They’re not anywhere. I get up and frown. I start heading back towards our van.

Where the hell have they gone?

I spin around, trying to look down the little paths between cars. I search for their car, their plates, but neither of the men are anywhere. Nor is their car anywhere.

I turn back and start to head for the truck when I stop cold.

What if I wasn’t meant to get to them?

Mimi!

I sprint back to the gas station. How could I have been so stupid? Of course, they would lead me away from the station and get me lost just to get to her. How could I be so stupid?

I’m running down the lanes between cars as quickly as I can. I didn’t realize how far I’d drifted from the gas station as I went after them. I cut down the lane to pass by our van, when I’m brought to another stop.

There’s a note on our windshield.

I pull it up and look at it.

I don’t know what the fuck to think now...

We’re waiting, Carlos

“What’s that?” Mimi asks.

I look up, surprised. I scrunch it up and stuff it in my pocket. “You scared me!” I joke. “Got me jumping out of my skin reading the receipt.”

Mimi laughs and heads to her side of the van, nodding for me to get in. She’s picked up two extra coffees to go too.

Why didn’t I tell her about the note? Why didn’t I tell her about the men?

More than that, what has Carlos been up to lately?

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By the time we pull into the motel that night, we’ve had many hundreds of miles roll by under our tires. We’re in Virginia, having crossed all of North Carolina in one day, I am fucking exhausted from driving and being on edge.

I still haven’t told Mimi about the note.

Or the men.

Or the fact that I did all that because of how I felt about her.

Then I curse Carlos again. Why the hell hasn’t he picked up all day?

Mimi’s in our room having a shower while I check on the van, and I use it as an excuse to call Carlos. He has not answered or replied to any of my texts. Not that I’ve outright asked him what business he’s been up to with the Russians, but he’s never been so slow to reply to anything. My paranoia over the last few days has put me over the edge.

And for some reason I keep not telling Mimi. Why? What would it solve? I’d just be lumping the worry onto her, and she’s had enough of her brother. Am I using that as an excuse to not anger her again? Around and around in circles I go, thinking these stupid thoughts.

He doesn’t answer his phone again, and I lock the thing and jam it in my pocket.

The van is fine; nothing’s happened since the crash. The men didn’t tamper with it back in the gas station parking lot, and even though I had a quick peek, there appeared to be nothing for tracking. All that had been done by them was the addition of the note.

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