by Ellie Danes
Then I remembered Bree's arm. I ran to the motel bathroom and was lucky enough to find a first aid kit, or the remains of one. As soon as Bree saw me returning with rubbing alcohol, she stirred.
"I can do that myself. Thanks," Bree said.
I bit my lip as she tried to peel off her shirt. It stuck to the wound, and Bree gave a little cry as she tore the wound open.
"I never meant for this to happen," I said.
"How would you know?" Bree snapped. She opened the rubbing alcohol and scowled at the clean motel towel that I handed her. "You can't remember, right?"
"I can remember how to clean and dress a wound." I snatched the towel out of her hand and swatted her hands back until she let me help her. "And I think I would remember if I had a group of men in dark suits trying to hunt me down."
Bree waited as I put gauze over the jagged cut across her bicep. "Well? What do you remember now?" she asked.
The patience was gone from her voice, and I knew I was losing her. Bree would listen to me flounder around one last time and then she would get up and walk out of the motel room forever. Just the thought was enough to kick my heart back up to panicked speed.
"I remember how you didn't run away and leave me to die. I remember how you hung on to that shoebox even though the world around you was exploding." I finished dressing her wound but caught her hand. "I remember you were the first person who believed me."
"Fat lot of good that's done either of us," Bree said.
I forced myself to go and sit at the small round motel table in the corner. Bree fussed over her arm for a minute and then stood up to pace the motel room. All I could do was watch her and hope she didn't head for the door.
Not that I would have blamed her. She probably thought she was getting in a fun little fling before heading back to the diner in Topeka. Bree hadn't counted on the mystery of the little girl, Maggie, or the men in dark suits with shiny guns.
"Were those men speaking Spanish?" I wondered out loud.
Bree flinched at my words as they broke her from her own terrified thoughts. "I don't know. Things got a little loud when they started firing at us."
She paced back and forth again, then stopped to pick up a bag of chips. Bree lifted it up with her thumb and one finger, crinkling up her nose as she considered the prepackaged dose of sodium.
"Hungry? I'll order a pizza. Then we should find something on TV. You know, relax a bit. Isn't that what I should do if I want to recover my memory?" I asked her.
"Relax?" Bree gave me an exhausted look.
"Well, at least say yes to the pizza." I picked up the brochure on the nightstand. "This place says they can deliver in thirty minutes. You should eat something."
Bree nodded and sank back onto the motel bed. I tossed her an extra blanket and was relieved when she wound it around herself. She certainly didn't look like she was going anywhere, but I was still worried.
Bree should have left. I shouldn't have wanted her to stay. But the only thing that kept repeating through my head wasn't the shattering gunshots but the thought that I didn't want to do any of this without Bree. I needed her to stay even as I understood exactly why her eyes kept sliding toward the motel room door.
Chapter Twelve
Bree
I curled up under extra blankets on the motel bed. It was the only way to get Nathan to stop hovering over me.
"Just try to sleep. Everything's fine," he said.
I heard him pace back and forth before settling down at the small table in the corner of our motel room. He scratched at his stubbled chin and shifted uneasily in the chair, but tried to stay quiet so I could rest.
I felt like screaming. Every car door slamming outside made me think those men were marching toward our thin door. Footsteps outside our room forced cold sweat from my body. I pulled the covers over my head and tried to breathe.
I needed time to think, but my mind leaped at every sound. Strange men were after us, after Nathan, and they had guns. He had assured me they didn't want to shoot us, but what he really meant was they didn't intend to harm him. I, on the other hand, was just some pawn they could probably use to make Nathan do what they wanted.
He heard me squirming in my panic. "They have no idea which way we went. And the police are looking for them now. There's no way they'll find us here," Nathan said.
I threw off the covers and sat up. "What about the police?" I snapped. "Shouldn't we be the ones going to the police?"
Nathan rubbed his forehead. "We can't. You know that."
I glanced over to the shoebox and remembered the bricks of cocaine. A dizzy wave crashed over me again, and I was glad I was sitting on the bed. Still, I braced myself against the faded bedspread and had to wait for the world to right itself again.
We needed help but we couldn't go to the police. Who else was there?
"Don't worry," Nathan said for the hundredth time. "I've got a plan."
"A plan?" My breath hitched over a heavy knot of disbelief. "What kind of a plan is going to save us from armed henchmen and keep us out of jail? We don't even know why they're after you."
Nathan winced when I put the emphasis on him. They weren't after me, the cocaine wasn't mine, and maybe the gunmen would just assume I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"The best place for both of us is on the road," Nathan said. "We're safe for now but when it gets dark, we're getting out of town."
I wrapped the blankets around me again. "How are we going to do that? What if they are watching this place right now?"
Nathan shook his head, not willing to believe we were in that much trouble. "It's taken them this long to make a move; they must be having trouble tracking me down."
"That doesn't mean they are getting closer," I said.
"All right, you're right," Nathan muttered. "The best plan is to try to change our appearances; throw them off. I'm going to shave and trim back my hair." He got up and headed toward the tiny motel room bathroom.
I squeezed my arms tighter around myself. "And what am I supposed to do?"
Nathan looked back at me, his eyes lingering for a long time on my hair and face. "You really are beautiful, Bree."
"Am I supposed to cut off all my hair?"
Nathan shook his head. "Try tying it back, put on a scarf. We'll buy some of those cheap sunglasses from the motel office. You'll be fine."
I heard him start the shower but he left the door open. I listened to the peaceful hiss of the water for a few minutes and wished everything was different. I wished I had never taken that job at the diner. Maybe it wasn't too late to go back and try to make everything different, better.
"If you don't have a scarf, you might have to rip up one of your blouses or something," Nathan called from the shower.
I got up in a burst of defiance and yanked a scarf from my bag. My hair was tangled with dust, and I brushed it hard. Then I twisted it back into a painful bun and experimented with tying the scarf tight around my head.
At the right spot, the scarf made my face more angular. The softness was gone from my expression, and all I could do was stare into the mirror and try not to cry. Where was my smile? My eyes were dull, my lips too heavy, my shoulders slumped.
Someone outside slammed the lid of the ice machine and I cried out. I pulled the scarf off my head with shaking fingers and worried about PTSD. Loud noises erased my thoughts and left me blind with panic before the world refocused. What if I wasn't able to bring myself back to normal without help?
"Normal," I spat. "No more normal for you."
The shattered woman in the mirror gave me a desperate look. What in the hell was I doing? Why wasn't I trying to save myself?
Nathan needed help. I knew that from the first moment I saw him. Letting myself get distracted by his wide shoulders, his quirky smile, and those fathomless eyes had been just plain stupid. The sex had been explosive, but I couldn't be willing to trade my life for it.
Was I really willing to give up the life I knew to run
away with Nathan? The idea was absurd. I had no idea who he really was or what he had done. The cold hard facts were that Nathan was in trouble and every minute I was with him I was getting entangled in his terrifying problems.
Nathan didn't even know who he was. What if he was some psycho killer who went AWOL?
Even as I thought it, I doubted it was true. Deep down, I felt that Nathan was a good guy but that didn't mean I had to be a stupid girl.
I wrapped the scarf tight around my head again and headed to the motel room door.
My hand shook as I held the doorknob, inching the locks open as quietly as I could. Nathan was still in the shower, calling out bits of advice now and then like how to use my makeup to make fake beauty marks or scars, anything that would change my face.
He didn't hear when I slipped outside and shut the door behind me. I pressed my back flat to the wall and gave the motel parking lot a quick scan. As if I could spot the people following us, and then what? I inched along the wall toward the motel office, determined to grab a pair of cheap sunglasses like Nathan had suggested.
My bag caught on the office door and the bell above the door jangled my last nerve. I fought down a clawing panic and tried to smile at the clerk behind the desk. He yawned, having clearly seen stranger guests than me.
I pretended to look at the display of travel brochures, as if I really was interested in visiting the local historical sites. Then I slipped a pair of large sunglasses into the front pocket of my bag; I needed every bit of cash I had to get back to Topeka.
"Skip the tour and head straight for the ice cream," the clerk said.
I glanced down and realized I was holding the brochure for a historic dairy farm not far out of town. "Thanks. I will."
I didn't breathe again until I was out the door and around the corner from the motel. Any minute, I expected to hear yelling voices rushing after me. Either Nathan, the motel clerk, or the men in their dark suits with guns drawn. It took everything I had not to run down the sidewalk.
Then my phone rang, and I stumbled into a crosswalk, narrowly missing an oncoming pickup truck. The truck honked at me, and I was sure my heart had stopped.
"Sorry, Janice," I gasped at my cell phone. "Can't talk now. Too busy dying of fright."
The truth was I had no idea what to tell my coworker. She had fully supported me running off to have a hot fling with a sexy stranger, but what would she say now? Knowing her, she'd make me wait while she poured herself a glass of wine and then she'd want every detail.
I promised myself I would call Janice back as soon as I was on my way back to Topeka. It wasn't home, it wasn't where I wanted to be, but my life there had been stable, boring even. I wanted boring back.
The more I thought about returning to the diner and my job, the more I realized how badly I wanted to be back there. The sheriff came in every Thursday to celebrate the end of his longest shift with a burger. He'd sneak a shot of whiskey into his soda and chat with all the other customers.
Nathan had said we couldn't call the police, and I knew he was right, but I thought about sitting down across from the Topeka sheriff and explaining the whole thing to him. He'd raise his hairy eyebrows, but listen. Then he'd reach his hand across the booth and tell me everything would be all right.
Or he'd tell me to turn myself in. Either way, it would be better advice than staying on the road with an unknown man.
I imagined just how I would explain the situation to my small-town sheriff. I came out sounding like a saint, giving a troubled Navy SEAL a ride back to his base. But when it came to the small details, like sharing a motel room, I cringed. Everyone would know I had run away with Nathan to fulfill some wild sexual longing for adventure.
"So much for a sexy adventure," I muttered.
It took me a long time to find my car again. In the rush to escape, I had not paid attention. Nathan had led us on a circuitous route, and I took a lot of wrong turns trying to retrace our steps. It would have been easier to head straight back to the bank and find my car from there, but I was afraid of being seen by any of the bank employees again.
When I came to the alley, a cold cloud wrapped around my body. The bullet holes in the cement wall seemed to echo with the loud shots, and my body jerked at the remembered sounds. I found the spot where I’d sunk to the ground, too shocked and afraid to go on, and I just stood there.
How was I going to make it back to normal from there?
My car was miraculously untouched, and I almost cried out with joy when I spotted it. My hands shook as I fitted the key into the driver's side door, but soon I was safe inside. It didn't matter that I only had a half a tank of gas left; it was enough to get me out of town.
I eased my way down the alley, taking one last glance at the bullet holes. It felt good to say goodbye to them and know I was on my way to forgetting the whole terrifying thing had ever happened.
It wasn't so easy to say goodbye to Nathan. I stopped at the intersection near the bank and thought about driving back to the motel. He'd be looking for me by now, so our room would be empty.
I felt a twinge of guilt. I was leaving Nathan to deal with a mountain of problems on his own. And I was making him go forward on foot.
I forced myself to remember the fat rolls of cash in that scary little shoebox, and I told myself not to feel bad.
"Don't look back, Bree," I said.
Then I looked in the rearview mirror and saw the dark car turn through the intersection and follow me down the road.
Chapter Thirteen
Nathan
I wasn't surprised to get out of the shower and find Bree gone. Just like I wasn't surprised to look in the mirror and see that my efforts hadn't changed much. I still looked like me and that was a bad thing. No wonder Bree had bolted when she did.
I got dressed, making sure to add more layers to change my shape, adding a little pudge on my stomach with a crumpled-up t-shirt. It would be easy to swipe a baseball hat from the motel lost and found. My disguise would help me make it out of town, but I had no idea where to go from there.
Or how I'd get there.
My heart froze as I thought about where Bree had gone. If she was smart, she'd find another hotel and hole up until someone from Topeka could come and get her. Maybe that older waitress with the mischievous eyes. But if Bree had headed for her car, there was no doubt in my mind the men after me would soon be tailing her.
I hoped once they saw she was heading out alone and not circling back to get me, those armed men would leave her alone. Maybe the smartest move Bree had ever made was ditching me.
I moved around the motel room, shoving my few belongings in a plastic bag. It was impossible not to hope that every car I heard was Bree coming back for me. I had only known her a few days but, in that time, I had come to depend on her support. She listened to me, she wanted to help, and, most of all, she believed that I was a good person.
Or maybe she'd finally gotten smart about that, too.
Bree deserved someone a thousand times better than me. Someone not broken, with pieces of his memory missing. Someone who could take care of her, really concentrate on loving her, instead of leading her on a wild goose chase with dangerous obstacles everywhere.
I opened the shoebox and took out the bricks of cocaine. I couldn't very well travel around with them and expect to stay out of trouble. It just doubled my resolve that Bree should get as far away from me as possible. Then I pulled a chair over to the vent on the wall, unscrewed the cover, and shoved the cocaine as far back as I could. I was a disaster, and she deserved a knight in shining armor.
Even the thought of Bree with someone else revived a spark of determination in me. I wanted her, her bright smiles and easy laugh, and the way that she called me out on anything that sounded like bullshit. Why hadn't Bree just laid into me? Why had she left without saying a word?
Because I had frightened her into a state of shock. I thought about her pale face, her eyes too wide and unfocused. I had done that to her. No,
those gunmen had done that to her. And it was time I found a way to make them pay.
I grabbed up my bag, hooked the Do Not Disturb sign on the motel door, and made my way to the motel office. The clerk barely batted an eyelash when I asked where the lost and found was or when I reappeared wearing a hat that read Catch Something with Hooker's Reels.
My hand was on the front door but I couldn't help myself. "Hey, did you see my girl in here earlier?"
The clerk gave a lazy nod. "She was checking out the dairy farm brochure. Told her the ice cream there is great."
"Is it?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Not much else to do around here."
"She say anything else?" I asked.
The clerk gave me a little smirk. "What, are you the jealous kind? Not that I blame you; that girl is a looker."
I took a step toward the desk, and the clerk held up both hands.
"Nah, man, she didn't say anything else," he said.
"We're keeping the room for a few more nights," I said. "Don't bother with turn-down service."
The clerk gave me a weak salute and went back to leaning on the counter. I headed outside and hoped the rest of the motel staff was as lazy as he was. I didn't want anyone finding the bricks of cocaine that I had hidden in our motel room vent.
The rolls of cash I had divided up and hidden on my person, and the gun rode heavy in my belt. I felt it every step I took and couldn't decide if it was a comfort. It was a toss-up what was worse: knowing I had needed a gun at some point in the last few days or not being able to remember why.
I wanted to curse Bree for taking off and leaving me on foot, but as I walked down the sidewalk toward town, all I could do was worry about her. It didn't matter that I was stuck in some town where the only people who knew me wanted to take me somewhere at gunpoint. I just wanted to know that Bree was safe.
I scanned every vehicle that passed for her little economy car. Would she head back to Topeka or go home? Bree had said something about not being welcome there, something with her sister, so I hadn't even asked where she was from.
