"I'll keep my eye and ear on the bitch, and I have Stanson working to dig up what he can. Get to Montana and get back as fast as you can. And do me a favor. Stay under the radar.
"You take the car," Kade said. "Me and Hudson will ride."
If we were busting Miles out of jail, we needed Hudson to hack their computer system and clear Miles's history. It was the only way to get in and out without leaving a trace.
"We'll need a diversion," Kade said as Nick left us to it.
"Good thing we have a thirteen hour fucking drive to think about it," I joked. "Remind me to kick Miles ass when we get there."
Kade laughed. "You'll have to get in line. I have first dibs."
A couple hours later, I was behind the wheel of my 1970 Black Chevelle with the original white racing stripes. It was my old man's car, and the first thing he bought when he got home from Vietnam. After Mom left, he never dated. He had his fuck buddies, but he said the only girl he needed in his life was his car. He treated the car better than he treated most people and, when he died, I made a promise to myself that I would take care of it.
Taking care of it also meant driving it. One thing my old man hated about classic cars was that people only took them out on sunny days and for short periods of time before parking them back in their garage. A car was a machine built to be driven, and my old man drove this car everyday up until he died.
When I turned onto the highway, the sun pouring through the windows, and the open road ahead of us, I felt as if the old man with me. I cracked the window, put my sunglasses on and lit my cigarette. I had thirteen hours ahead of me, and I only hoped that by the time we reached Montana I'd have shit figured out.
Aubree
Blood poured from the wound in his head, and I stood there with the gun in my hands. But it was the wrong head. I shot the wrong guy. Cash was lifeless on the floor. No! I tried to scream out, but the words were strangled in my throat. I struggled to force them out, but there was only silence.
I dropped to my knees, taking his head into my arms. Crimson dyed his dirty blond strands, and matted around the wound. I pressed my hands to his head to try and stop the bleeding, but there was so much. Too much. It poured through my fingers, and tears spilled from my eyes. No. This couldn't be happening.
"Cash!" I screamed, sobs wracking my body as I rocked his head back and forth.
The guy who should have been dead crawled out from under the bed, his eyes black as night. Murder was in his gaze, and he focused on me. He got to his feet and lunged. I went to run, but my legs were stuck as if they were cemented to the floor. His strong hand wrapped around my throat and he squeezed, cutting off my air supply. I clawed at his hand, but neither his grip nor the murderous look in his eyes waned.
"Get ready to know what death feels like, you little bitch," he growled.
My arms flailed, hands scratched at his, trying frantically to survive. I was too young to die. My nails dug deep into his skin, determined to break free, but it only made his grip tighten.
The light around me dimmed, and the blackness began to consume me.
No. No. No! I tossed and turned, and, suddenly, his hand loosened. My body flung forward, and I gasped for air.
My eyes opened, and I felt the warmth of my down comforter beneath me. Felt the cool breeze from the central air, streaming through my vent, and the early morning light shone through my bedroom window. I took in deep breaths, trying to gain back all that I felt I had lost.
I grabbed my throat, making sure everything was okay. I closed my eyes, assuring myself I was home and safe. No one could hurt me. Cash was alive, and I was safe. He said he took care of everything, and all I had to do was forget it happened.
And I tried. But the nightmares were so vivid, and I couldn't control them. I returned to my old life, and tried to pretend that dreadful night never happened, but the memories were engraved in my mind. No matter how hard I forced them away, they always found their way to the surface, taunting me and making me wish I could take it all back.
I didn't regret pulling that trigger. If I didn't, that guy would have killed Cash, and that was something I wouldn't have been able to live with. But, maybe if we didn't go back to Cash's or if that guy never showed up, Cash would still be in my life. I wouldn't be a murderer, harboring a secret so horrible that it could ruin me. I wouldn't need to figure my life out if I was locked behind bars. I wouldn't even need to have to worry about my clothes. Though, I hated orange. My stylist told me it wasn't a good color for me, and the thought of wearing a jumpsuit …
I took a deep breath. I didn't have to worry about that stuff. Cash said he would protect me, and I believed him. I picked up my cell phone, and thought about texting him. I just wanted to hear from him, and know that he was okay.
I tapped in a few words, but quickly deleted them. I was an idiot. Of course, he was okay. A dead body in his house was probably just a typical day for him. I tossed my phone in the drawer, and headed for the shower.
The best thing for me to do was go about my day as I always had, and I'd already slept later than usual.
The hot steam felt good against my skin, and I hoped the water would wash away those horrible thoughts, but no amount of scrubbing seemed to help. I thought about shopping at Rainier Square, about taking weekend trips to Vancouver, and lunches at the club. It was the life I was accustomed to, and one I wanted out of just a few days ago. Now, I wasn't sure what I wanted. At least, the life I was used to was safe.
I finished getting dressed and headed downstairs. Dad walked into the foyer, holding his golf clubs on his right arm. He was dressed in his usual Saturday morning golf outing attire: khaki pants and a striped polo. Today's was light blue with white stripes.
"Hey, Daddy," I said, as he placed the bag on the ground. I descended the last step, and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.
"Hey, pumpkin." I smiled at the nickname he had been calling me since I could remember. Dad was the total opposite of Cash: clean cut, and not a single tattoo or scar. Yet, despite his lack of ruggedness, he had one thing in common with Cash. They both made me feel safe. Even when Cash was on the ground fighting for his life, I knew he would never let anything happen to me, just as I knew Dad wouldn't.
"How'd it go today?" I asked because he loved to talk about his golf swing, and I wanted to get Cash out of my head.
"Really good. I almost missed my tee time because of traffic, but I hit a par 4, and a near eagle." Dad walked out to the outdoor patio, and I followed, as he continued to tell me all about his game. We both sat down at the outdoor bar that was stocked with all of Dad's favorite bottles of scotch.
"You just keep getting better and better," I said, crossing my legs and resting my elbow on the marble surface.
"You know, I saw William at the club. We played a round together."
"Oh. That's nice," I said, not liking the turn this conversation was taking.
"He said his company is doing really well. He has a lot of financial backers and more are coming in every day."
"I'm happy for him," I said, while playing with the bottom hem of my skirt.
"He also told me you turned down his proposal." A rush of air escaped my mouth, and I didn't even try to hide my frustrations. The last thing I felt like discussing was the status of my and William's relationship.
"So … "
A loud bang startled me as Dad's fist came down on the bar. "Goddamn it, Aubree. What are you doing here? What were you thinking? He can provide a good life for you." My father's voice rose, and it took me by surprise. Out of my parents, he was usually the calm one.
I glanced up, and Dad had fire in his eyes. I'd never seen him look so angry and annoyed. It scared me, and I wondered why something as silly as me rejecting a man's proposal could create such hostility.
"I want more than just a good life," I explained.
"What more is there?" Dad questioned. "He can give you a home and security. You will never have to worry about anything."
"Love!" I finally yelled. "I want love, Dad. And I don't think I love William. The house, security … all of that means nothing to me if I don't get love with it."
"You learn to love the person you're with," Dad stated dryly.
"How romantic," I scoffed. "No wonder you won Mom over."
"Watch your tone with me, young lady," Dad said, pointing his finger at me and the single gesture curdled my stomach. I wanted to rip it off, and shove it back in his face.