Page 23 of Dirty Gambit

“I have to pee.”

Startled out of her reverie, Lena jerked her gaze up to the mirror. “What?”

“I need the bathroom and I don’t think I’m going to be able to hold it much longer.”

Muttering a curse, she turned back to the road, the clock on the dashboard, the list of delays already putting them behind, a list he had a large part in helping create.

“Okay,” she breathed, more to herself than him. The sun glinting off the half-empty bottle of water in the seat next to her and like some sign from God and Lena blew out a breath. “Okay,” she said again, accepting her new reality with as a truly despicable human being.

A quarter mile from her designated stop, Lena pulled off the shoulder and cut the engine. She could feel Jaxon watching her, looking from her to their surroundings. It took all her resolve not to peek in the rearview mirror when she snatched up the water bottle, kicked open her door, and pushed out into the brisk wind. It snatched clumps of her hair and tossed it back into her face, blinding her as she staggered to the trunk.

The metal hinges barely made a sound popping open. She wondered if that was a sign as she tossed her nearly empty bottle into the trunk, but pushed the thought aside and reached for the duffle set to one side, away from all the others. Her fingers trembled tugging on the zipper. She held her breath as the teeth gave and the opening widened.

It was part of her emergency go-bag. Pablo had insisted she needed one, would need one when the time came. She had called him paranoid and ridiculous. Yet there she stood, staring down into the dark opening and wishing there was another way.

But there wasn’t. Her plans to keep Jaxon tucked away had failed and one failure was bad enough. She couldn’t afford another.

Gut twisted up in knots, she carefully reached for the Ziploc bag stuffed into one corner. The plastic, orange bottles rattled ominously, a sound she could have sworn could be heard from miles away. It sent fear and guilt scuttling up her spine.

By no stretch of the imagination did Lena know anything about drugs. It was never an aspect of her condition she wanted to explore, not when she’d seen what it did to people. Prostitution, weapons, and drugs. The Holy Trinity. The three strike disaster. But everyone on her side of the tracks knew about the white powder, the fairy dust designed to put beauties to sleep. It was highly illegal, and for good reason, but Lena didn’t need it for the same reason those other people did. She wasn’t out to hurt anyone. Its only purpose was to keep Jaxon under control should he become too hard to handle and only in the most severe circumstances, which this was.

Carefully, mindful of not spilling any of the dust, Lena cracked open a fresh bottle of water and scooped in three pinches worth of powder. She shook it until the cloudy residue swirling inside had dissolved back to clear.

She drew in a breath and closed her eyes. Her fingers trembled around the bottle, filling the brittle silence with the crackle of plastic.

Please,she prayed.Please don’t let me kill him and please forgive me for what I’m about to do. He’s not giving me a choice.

Waiting for a full second to let her request resonate through her, Lena opened her eyes and put the cap back on the bottle. She screwed it on tight and took another breath.

After returning the baggie back into the duffle and arranging everything the way it was meant to be, she shut the trunk and made her way to Jaxon’s side.

He peered at her from the other side of the glass, his expression thoughtful, but wary. She ignored the latter and pulled open the barricade.

“Be quick and don’t do anything stupid.”

She set the bottle on the car hood and reached into her pocket for the keys. She undid his restraints and stepped back, free hand resting on the butt of the gun still tucked in the waistband of her pants.

Both hands went up in surrender and he edged around the car towards the trunk. Lena waited until his back was turned and he was facing the ditch before making the swap, exchanging the water she’d given him at the campground with the one laced with diamond dust. She heard his fly snap open, then the distinct stream of water as she quickly set his clean bottle on the hood.

She was going to hell. She knew it as surely as the sky was blue. People who did underhanded and terrible things to the people in their care deserved nothing less. It didn’t matter what her intentions were or that she would never willingly hurt him, she was doing something so much worse.

Resisting the urge to swap the bottles back, she focused on the whisper of tangling wheat, the echoing hum of endless space, and Jessie’s babbling from the backseat. She didn’t turn back to Jaxon until the dirt beneath his feet crunched with his movement. She watched him fasten his fly with hands that just seemed much too large. The kind of hands that could be both gentle and violent without effort. Man hands.

She tore her gaze from long, blunt fingers and lifted them to the man himself, not at all surprised to find him already watching her.

“I don’t understand you,” he said, not a trace of mockery or disdain in sight.

Lena offered him the ghost of a smile riddled with self-depreciation. “Welcome to the club.”

She motioned him back into the car, waited until he was strapped in before motioning to the bottle.

“You should drink that.”

He eyed the bottle, then shook his head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Drink it!” she snapped with a lot more force and anger than she’d intended. “I’m not going to let you dehydrate yourself and die on my watch.”

Every word cut into her throat like knives. She hated herself a little more with every second that passed. It grew worse when he lifted the bottle and unscrewed the cap, not even registering that the seal was broken already.

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