by Karen Kelley
Savannah took a drink of her soda, then grimaced as the fizz hit her nose. She half-listened to the waitress taking the order of the man in the booth behind her. She liked the sound of his voice. Smooth, a little raspy with an accent she couldn’t quite pinpoint, almost southern with a rolling sound.
"You don't sound as if you're from Texas," the waitress said. "I can usually spot a Texan by his drawl."
"I'm from Louisiana."
That answered Savannah’s silent question. She continued to listen to their conversation. One of a handful of things she’d learned from watching Marco. Know your surroundings. Not knowing could get you killed.
"You headed back there?" the waitress asked.
"Yes."
"I'll have your steak out in just a bit, honey." She stopped at Savannah’s table. "Still doing okay?"
Savannah nodded, and she continued on. There was a beeping noise behind her, and a moment later, the man began to speak. She assumed he was talking on his phone.
"No, I'm glad to be out of Arizona. Two weeks of that kind of dry heat was enough for me. When that dust storm came through, I felt as if I was eating dirt for a solid damn week." He laughed.
She liked the sound of his laugh. Every time Marco had laughed, she knew it was fake, and usually deadly. This guy's laugh seemed genuine, though. The rest of his conversation was generic, and then he ended the call.
Maybe he would give her a ride. But what if he said no? There was another way. Once more, she tamped down the panic that rose inside her. Did she have a choice? She didn’t think so.
When the waitress arrived with his food, Savannah slipped out of the booth and made her way to the cashier. She handed her the five-dollar bill, hoping it would be enough to cover the soda. The last time she’d paid for anything was when she and Rena went to the store. Tears filled her eyes as she thought about her little sister. She’d tried to get back to her. That was the night Marco reminded her that she belonged to him.
She grimaced when a burning pain seared her shoulder. The burned flesh had healed eventually, leaving a small MS brand behind. Sometimes, though, Savannah thought she could still feel when the hot branding iron had touched her skin, and she would smell the stench of burnt flesh again.
"Are you okay?" The cashier asked.
Her head jerked up, and their eyes met. She took the change the cashier handed her and dropped it into the backpack. "I am now." She pushed strands of blonde hair that had escaped from beneath her cap back under it.
As she walked out of the restaurant, she scanned the scattering of vehicles parked in front of the building. There was only one with a Louisiana license plate. A late-model, dark blue sedan with more dings and scratches than she could count.
She glanced toward the restaurant. The man was concentrating on his food, rather than what was going on outside the window. She said a quick prayer, then hurried over and tested the back door, breathing a sigh of relief when she found it unlocked. With all the dings and scratches on the car, she was afraid the door might be rusty and alert anyone nearby that it was being opened, but it was surprisingly quiet.
Savannah quickly slipped inside, then made herself as small as she could, crouched down on the floorboard behind the passenger seat. If she could get as far as Louisiana, she might be safe from Marco.
It seemed like forever before the man came out to his vehicle. She bit her lip as he started the car, then drove away. They'd only gone a few miles before he pulled to the side of the road.
"Do you want to tell me what you're doing in the back floorboard of my car?"
She began to shake so hard that she couldn’t speak.
"You might as well come out." He reached up and turned on the interior light.
The only thought running through her mind was that Marco was going to find her now. There would be nowhere to run. She needed to get as far away from this area as she could.
She raised, then sat on the edge of the back seat. "I'm sorry."
"Get out."
She could feel the color draining from her face. She needed to lie, and lie fast. "Please, Mister. I'm trying to get to New Orleans. My mother was in a bad car wreck and the doctor said she might not have long to live."
His frown only darkened. "I'll take you to the bus station then."
Marco was sure to be checking the bus stations. "I don't have enough money for a ticket. Please, just take me as far as you can, and I'll make it the rest of the way on my own. You've got to believe me. I've never done this before. I wouldn't have now if I wasn't desperate."
He studied her in the dim light. "I've lost my ever-loving mind," he muttered. "Get in the front seat."
She scrambled out of the back and opened the front door. She quickly slid inside, then fastened her seatbelt. "I really appreciate this."
“Yeah, yeah. What’s your name?”
"Savannah." She could've bitten her tongue. She should've given him a fake name. It was too late for that now.
"Not that we’re going to get to know each other, but they call me Breaker."
Breaker. What an odd name. She didn't care what people called him as long as he took her as far away from San Antonio as she could get.
Then it hit her. This man was going to help her—at least as far as Louisiana. She would be free, finally free. She brushed away the tear that made its way down her cheek and stared out at the darkness as he started the car and pulled back onto the road.
She quickly reigned in her emotions. She refused to let herself get excited. It was too soon. She wasn't out of the woods yet.
"Are you a runaway?" Breaker asked.
Cold chills swept over her. "What do you mean?" How could he have guessed?
"Are you running away from home? How old are you?"
She immediately relaxed. "No, I'm not a runaway." What would Breaker say if he knew she was only nineteen? Would he think she was too young to help? Maybe take her to the nearest police station? Marco had men planted on the inside. She couldn’t take that chance. Besides, she felt closer to thirty. "I'm twenty-two." It wasn't too much of a lie.
“Take off your hat.”
She quickly did as he asked, holding it tightly in her lap.
He turned on the overhead light again and studied her for a moment. He finally grimaced and turned it off. "Okay, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt," he said.
"How did you know I was in the back of your car?"
"Your perfume gave you away. Don't worry, it's not that strong, but it's a hell of a lot different from anything else in my car."
Then it was a good thing Martin didn't have a backseat. His pickup was only a single cab. He probably would have noticed as well, and she wouldn't have gotten away. She stored away the information for future use in case she needed it.
She began to relax a little more with each mile until she noticed Breaker kept looking into his rearview mirror. She might not have worried so much, but they hadn't reached the interstate yet.
"What?"
He shook his head. "Someone might be following us. I'm not sure, but I'm going to check it out."
They couldn't have found her this quickly. There was no way. But then, she also knew Marco. He would've left no stone unturned searching for her.
Breaker turned to the right. She watched in the side mirror as the car behind them turned as well. No, no, no! This wasn't happening.
Breaker turned to the right at the next corner.
The car followed.
He glanced across the seat. "Is there anything more you'd like to tell me?"
"If they take me back with them, he'll kill me. They’re evil men." When he started pulling over, she whipped around in the seat and stared at him. "They'll kill you. Trust me. You can't stop."
"If I don't, they'll stay right on our tail. I don't like it when people follow me."
He shifted into park and turned the key in the ignition. He reached beneath the seat before climbing out and brought out a silver-plated, nine-millimeter pistol, slip
ping it in his waistband behind him.
Who was this man? What the hell had she'd gotten herself into? It was too late now. She'd made the decision to get in his car. She quickly realized her life was littered with bad decisions.
She unfastened her seatbelt and turned in her seat. Her heart sank when she saw two of Marco's men getting out of the car.
"I think you have something that belongs to our boss," Antonio said.
"And what would that be?" Breaker countered.
"The woman doesn't belong to you," Roberto said.
Roberto was almost as mean as Marco. The only reason he’d left her alone was because Marco had given orders she wasn't to be touched by anyone except him, unless he ordered it. She slipped out of the passenger side of the car.
“The last I knew, this was still a free country,” Breaker said with a hard edge in his voice.
"Don't be stupid, amigo," Antonio said. "The woman is coming with us. She is nothing to you. Not worth the trouble she will cause you."
Breaker turned to her. "Do you want to go with these men?"
She shook her head.
"You're making a big mistake, Savannah," Antonio said. "Marco will be angry enough that you tried to run away, but now you're going to get this innocent man killed. Do you want his blood on your hands?"
Her gaze flew to Breaker. The enormity of what was happening swept over her. She’d pulled Breaker into the mess that was her life. If anything happened to him, it would be all her fault, and there was no doubt in her mind that they would kill him. Savannah had never felt this much defeat in her life.
She turned to Breaker. "I'm sorry I got you involved." She raised her chin high and looked at Marco’s men. "Please don’t hurt him. I was the one who sneaked into the backseat of his car. None of this is his fault. I'll go back with you."
Breaker glanced her way. "Is that what you want?"
"I don't have a choice." Her bottom lip began to tremble. She quickly clamped her lips together. She refused to let them see her cry.
He suddenly grinned. It was just a sideways lifting of one side of his mouth, but it was almost as if he enjoyed the situation.
"Then get back in the car where it's safe,” Breaker told her. “Hell, there are only two of them. I’ll join you in a moment." He turned and looked at the two men again. "Make this easy on yourselves. Leave right now, and you won't get hurt."
Antonio and Roberto laughed, then grabbed for their guns, but Breaker was faster. There were two quick pops. She jumped back. Both men crumpled to the ground. Breaker walked over to their bodies and checked for a pulse before straightening and walking back to the car. He opened the driver's side door, then looked at her. She still stood beside the car, mouth open.
"Are you ready to go, or did you want to hang around for someone else to show up looking for you?"
She closed her mouth and shook her head as she got back inside the car. Before he turned the key, he looked at her.
"Now, do you want to tell me the truth?"
Chapter Three
Breaker started the car and pulled away, but he still expected an answer from Savannah, if that was even her real name. One of the men had called her that, so yeah, she was probably telling the truth there. Probably the only truth she’d told him since stealing into his car.
"I at least deserve to know what might be headed my way, why I just killed two men, and why are you running away from this Marco guy?”
He glanced across the seat, but she was looking out the window. From the moment he’d laid eyes on her, his gut had told him that she was going to be trouble. He'd been right. There was something about her, though. As if she'd been beaten up her whole life. Not just physically, but mentally.
She was beautiful, with long, blonde hair that reached down to the middle of her back, when she didn’t have it stuffed under that cap, and big blue eyes that held a wariness he’d seen before.
Her features were delicate, soft, but she had nice curves. Breaker could see why Marco wanted her back. There was just something about her that was hard to describe—an ethereal kind of beauty.
He'd seen something else, too. A bleakness in her eyes. That same look had been in the eyes of the kids that flocked to him when he'd been living on the streets in New Orleans after he ran away from home when he was fourteen. He frowned. They'd thought he was some kind of hero or something, but he was no hero. More like a bad example.
Those kids had a lost, vulnerable look about them, too. Hell, he hadn't been much older, but he took them under his wing, even back then. They called themselves the Trinidads. He smiled. They’d thought they were a badass gang, but mostly, they just did a little shoplifting or pickpocketing. He’d been their teacher.
Once, he and Natalie, a friend of his caught up in the foster home system, had stolen a car. They hadn't thought too much about the little blue convertible sitting in front of a brake shop. He should've realized it was in for repairs. Natalie had been driving and crashed them into a convenience store.
A friend once told Breaker that he was a softy because he collected people, but then added it would get him killed one day. He’d always been a sucker for the underdog. Now might be a good time to find out what exactly he was getting into. She still hadn’t answered him.
"Why did you run away from Marco?” he pressed. “What is he to you?"
"He's obsessed with me," she finally said.
"Your husband?"
Her head whipped around. "No!"
He was pretty sure she wasn’t lying about being married to Marco. At least he didn't have that to worry about. Domestic disputes could get ugly fast. He didn't want to get between a husband and his wife. Bad news all around with that kind of trouble.
"Who are you?" she countered.
"Just a guy who apparently picks up strays," he mumbled.
"You shot Marco’s men."
"Because they were about to shoot me. Self-defense. Does that bother you?"
She shook her head. "It's not the first time I've seen someone shot. They were two of his thugs."
Now he was intrigued. "Tell me about this Marco. Is he going to send more men after you?"
"Yes." She turned and looked out the window again.
He reached into his pocket and brought out his phone after he pulled onto the interstate. He tapped the number one. He had Carter on speed dial. He raised the phone to his ear. As soon as he answered, Breaker began to talk.
"I have a situation. Two men down. I'll send you the coordinates." He punched in some more numbers, while still watching the road, and then hit send. "Coming at you now. Yeah, thanks."
He ended the call, then noticed Savannah watching him.
"Are you a criminal?" she asked warily.
He laughed lightly. "Some people might think I am, but no, I walk the straight and narrow…most of the time."
She seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Yeah, he’d guessed she was mixed up in something bad by the looks of the two men that had come after her. Those weren’t toy guns they’d pulled.
"I take it Marco is a criminal." He wondered if she would give him the truth. He'd already figured out she was a consummate liar when she said her mother had been in a car accident.
"His name is Marco Sanchez." She pulled at her bottom lip with her teeth. "If you're smart, you’ll take me to the bus stop in the next town and drop me off, then forget you ever saw me. I'll make sure he knows I got on the bus, then lose myself in the next city."
"How about you let me worry about what this guy might do. Now, what is he involved in?"
"He's with the drug cartel. He's not the big boss, but he runs most of San Antonio. Marco is bad news." Her shoulders suddenly drooped. "He swore if I ever left him, he would find me, then kill me."
"Do you believe him?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Then we’ll make sure he doesn't find you."
"I'm not sure anyone can keep that from happening."
"Then why did you run?"
&nbs
p; Her eyes held a sadness that went deep inside her. "Sometimes death is preferable to the life you live." She sighed deeply. "If you don't mind, I think I'll rest for just a bit. I didn’t get much sleep last night." With that, she closed her eyes and turned her face away from him.
He was a fool. Hell, it wouldn't be the first time he’d done something stupid. It did make him wonder who this Marco was, besides running drugs, and how someone as beautiful as Savannah could get mixed up with the drug cartel. Maybe she'd been looking for a better life and just gotten confused. Then when she realized how deep she was, she’d made a run for it. She was right about one thing. Marco wanted her back, but how far would he go?
He glanced across the seat after a while and saw the even rise and fall of Savannah's breathing and knew she'd fallen asleep. One thing kept running through his mind; she would be safe at the bar. He'd listed the ownership under an alias. He didn't want his work for the government to follow him home. The bar was his sanctuary.
Could someone like Marco find him? Yeah, if they wanted something bad enough.
He’d been driving a couple of hours when his phone rang, he quickly answered, not wanting to wake Savannah.
"Yeah, what do you have?"
"Your problem has been taken care of," Carter said. "We had someone in the area. They also ran the licenses of the two men. They worked for a man named Marco Sanchez. He runs the San Antonio area for the drug cartel."
At least Savannah hadn't lied about that. "What else can you tell me about him?" He knew Carter would have already looked up Marco in their database.
"The usual drug dealer shit. He's a mean son of a bitch, but he always stays one step ahead of the law. He also has a few dirty cops on his payroll. I found pictures of him and the same woman at a few functions. He’s surrounded by his men most of the time."
