“Jesus! You stole this car?” I gasped.
“Keep your voice down,” Rafe insisted. “And fuck yeah, I stole it. Where did you think I got it from? A vending machine? Now get in!”
I hustled over to the passenger's side and climbed in, tossing the shopping bags on the back seat. I probably should have figured out for myself that he'd stolen it, but I'd been so distracted by his smile and so surprised to see him in a car that I guess part of me thought he'd somehow traded his bike for it. The thought seemed kind of stupid in retrospect, but I'd been on edge for so long that I wasn't thinking clearly.
“This car seems pretty old,” I said as Rafe pulled out of the mall parking lot.
“Sorry, I guess I should have asked what kind of car you wanted,” Rafe smirked. “What would be up to your standards? Lexus? Bentley? Ferrari? I can go back if you want to shop around a little...”
“That's not what I meant,” I said, trying not to sound defensive. I knew how different his world was from the one I was used to, but I didn't like being teased about it, especially when I was so scared. “I just feel bad for the owner, that's all. If he's driving something this old, he probably can't afford to replace it.”
“It's not just 'something,' it's a goddamn Saab,” Rafe replied. “And it's in decent condition, which means he can afford parts for it. Saab parts mostly aren't around much anymore, so replacing them is pricey. I'd bet anything he's fully insured, so his insurance company will buy him a new ride once he reports this one's gone. Besides, it had to be an older car.” Rafe gestured to the wires twisted together next to the steering wheel. “You can't just jump into new ones and hotwire them without fucking with a bunch of computerized shit. Plus, the new ones have tracking chips. We wouldn't get far.”
I nodded. It seemed like he was being fairly glib about having stolen someone's car, and I had a hard time believing the poor guy's insurance company would just snap their fingers and give him a new car. But on the other hand, we were in a desperate situation, and I wouldn't shed any tears for a stranger who lost his car if it meant keeping us alive.
“What happened to your bike?” I asked.
“I called a friend of mine to come up and collect it. I hope he can get here before someone steals it or fucks with it, but that's a risk I had to take.”
I almost pointed out the karma inherent in Rafe hoping his vehicle wouldn't be stolen, but I decided against it. Instead, I asked, “So now what?”
“We look for a hardware store,” Rafe said. “We still have a few things to do before stopping for the night, if we want to make sure we stay under the radar.”
We drove past a sign welcoming us to Wisconsin. Rafe pointed out a sign directing us to Kenosha and we took the exit, heading into town. After driving around for half an hour, we found a shopping center with a large hardware superstore in it and Rafe parked the car. He separated the wires on the dashboard, killing the engine.
“Okay, before we go in, we'd better get changed,” Rafe said. “Let's see these clothes you got for us.”
I rummaged through the shopping bags, handing Rafe the Chicago Bulls sweatshirt and khakis I'd gotten for him. He stared at them for a moment, then turned to look at me incredulously. “Jesus. I'm gonna look like a massive nerd.”
I shrugged. “You said nothing eye-catching, so...”
“Yeah, but I was hoping for something with a little style, at least,” Rafe chuckled. “Damn. You got a baseball cap to go with this stuff? Or maybe a nice propeller beanie?”
“Ha ha,” I said dryly.
Rafe pulled his own shirt off, revealing his muscular body again. I couldn't stop myself from taking in as much of it as possible while the shirt was over his head, and my fingertips tingled as I thought about lightly running them over his chest and abs.
He tossed the t-shirt under the driver's seat and pulled the sweatshirt on. He reached down to undo his jeans, then turned to raise his eyebrows at me. I realized that I'd been watching him the whole time and turned away, blushing.
“You should probably put yours on too,” Rafe said. “If you're done enjoying your peepshow, that is.”
I reached into the bags, pulling out the black leggings and gray t-shirt I'd gotten for myself. As I unbuttoned my blouse, I wondered if Rafe was watching me while he put the khakis on, but I couldn't bring myself to turn around and look.
I put on the t-shirt and wriggled out of my skirt, revealing my pale legs and my simple purple cotton panties. I thought I heard the faint sound of Rafe sucking air through his teeth in appreciation, but I couldn't be sure. Part of me enjoyed the idea that he was having a look at my body the way I'd looked at his.
I took the time to carefully fold the blouse and skirt. Rafe grunted impatiently. “Hurry up and toss the clothes under the seat, will you?” he demanded. “This isn't a fucking origami project. We're in a hurry, here.”
“I'm going as fast as I can,” I answered. “This outfit was a gift from my parents. I don't want it to get messed up and wrinkled.”
Rafe looked like he was about to say something else, but instead he closed his mouth and waited, tapping his foot on the floor of the car.
When we'd both finished changing, we got out of the car. I almost reminded Rafe to lock the doors until I remembered that he didn't have the keys to open them again.
A stolen car, I thought. I'm riding around in a stolen car. My life has gone completely crazy.
I followed Rafe into the hardware store. He moved through the aisles quickly and purposefully, picking out cans of black spray paint, face masks, plastic ponchos, and rolls of masking tape. I wanted to ask what they were for, but I figured he wouldn't want to talk about it with so many other people around. When he was done, he went to the check-out counter and paid with cash. As we left, he stopped to pick up a thick stack of advertising newsletters.
“So what was that about?” I finally asked as we got back to the Saab.
“This baby's probably been reported stolen by now,” Rafe answered. “If we want to stay under the radar, we'll need to give her a fresh paint job. But first, keep a lookout and let me know if anyone's coming.”
Rafe pulled a Swiss Army knife from his pocket and extended the screwdriver tool, crouching down in front of the car's front license plate. He quickly removed it, then did the same to the rear plate. “See anyone coming?” he asked.
I looked around. The closest people were two rows away. “No, you're fine,” I said.
Rafe shifted over to the car next to ours and unscrewed its plates too, replacing them with the ones from the Saab. Then he screwed the other car's plates onto the Saab instead. “There. That should help a bit. Now let's roll.”
We drove away from the shopping center and Rafe steered us onto the back roads again until we came to a barren field next to a deserted farm. “This looks pretty perfect,” Rafe said, driving up the dirt road to the dilapidated farmhouse. He hopped out of the car, knocked on the front door, then walked all the way around the house before getting back in.
“Yep, this should work,” Rafe said. “No one's been here for a long time, from the look of it.” He pulled the car around to the back of the house and we got out. He handed me a stack of advertising pages and a roll of masking tape. “Start taping these over the windows. Make sure they're totally covered or it'll fuck the whole thing up.”
I carefully taped the pages into place on one half of the car as he did the other half. Then he handed me a face mask and poncho. “Go ahead and put these on.”
We put on the safety gear, and each of us took a can of spray paint. “Now remember, it doesn't have to look nice,” Rafe said. “It just has to cover the whole car so people think it's just a shitty paint job instead of a cover-up.”
We spent the next hour carefully walking around the car and spraying every inch of it. Even with the mask on, the paint fumes were nauseating. Not only that, but I kept expecting to see people with guns running toward us, since that seemed to happen almost every time we stopped.
But no one came, and we were able to coat the entire car. The paint was clearly not intended to be used on cars and it had a dull, flat look to it, but at least the original color was completely hidden.
While the paint dried, Rafe stripped off his poncho and wandered over to the back door of the house. I followed him, taking off my gear too. Rafe tried the door, discovered it was locked, and used a nearby rock to smash one of the panes of glass in it. He reached in gingerly and unlocked it from the inside, stepping in. I walked in after him.
Dust motes hung thickly in the air, dancing in the pale beams of light from the windows. Most of the furniture was gone, but in the kitchen, there was a row of empty beer bottles standing on a high shelf.
Rafe looked at the bottles for a long moment, then turned to me, smiling.
“Ever fire a gun before?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Well,” he continued, “there's a first time for everything. Help me get those bottles down.”
Chapter 20
Jewel
As the sun started to set, Rafe and I carried the empty bottles out of the house. Rafe found a few old wooden crates in the barn and arranged them upside-down in a row behind the barn before carefully setting the bottles on top of them. Looking at them reminded me of scenes from the old Westerns I used to watch with my dad when I was a kid, when the grizzled gunslinger teaches the young deputy how to shoot.