by Zoey Parker
He walked over to the bricks of pot, picking one up. Then he took the gas can from Billie and started to dribble it in a line across the floor until they'd both reached the door. “Stay close,” he told her. “We're not out of this yet.”
He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a disposable lighter.
“Why do you have that?” Billie asked. “I've never seen you smoke.”
Carter favored her with a roguish grin. “I don't. But sometimes, when a cute girl needs a light for her cigarette...”
“That's corny as fuck,” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“Maybe,” he admitted, “but you'd be amazed at how often it's worked.”
They stepped out of the cabin, Billie clinging to Carter's side as he held the lighter under the brick of weed. No Chief and the Native American next to him had their shotguns aimed at them.
“Hey, now,” Carter chided them. “Shouldn't one of you have a set of keys in his hand?”
“What's all this?” No Chief asked, gesturing to the brick in Carter's hand.
“This?” Carter asked innocently. “This is just a friendly reminder that only you can prevent forest fires. You even twitch, and I'll light this sucker and toss it into the cabin. Now lower that gun, reach for the keys, and toss them to the woman standing next to me.”
No Chief hesitated for a moment, then slung the shotgun over his shoulder and yanked a set of keys out of his pocket. He slid one of the keys off the ring and tossed it to Billie. She fumbled it for a moment but managed to hang onto it.
“Thank you,” Carter said. “Pleasure doing business with you. I have to admit, I've never been in a Mexican stand-off with an Indian before.”
“You're welcome,” No Chief said evenly. “I'm sure I don't have to tell you that if either of you ever come anywhere near Taysha lands again, we'll stake you out over a fucking ant hill and call it self-defense.”
“Sounds fair,” Billie agreed. “Which of these rides is ours?”
No Chief jerked his thumb toward one of the ATVs. Carter climbed on, rested the brick of weed on the narrow dashboard, and started the engine. Billie got on behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist.
“What about that brick you're carrying?” No Chief yelled.
“Call it a tax,” Billie called back.
“I told you before, you're on a goddamn reservation,” said No Chief. “We ain't big on taxes around here.”
“And she told you before, the Taysha reservation's a mile that way,” Carter replied, jerking a thumb in front of him.
Laughing, they sped away on the ATV with shotgun blasts hitting the trees and bushes around them, and shrapnel from the wood and bark pelting their hair.
Chapter 24
Carter
“At this rate, we'll probably hit that desert again in a few minutes,” Carter said, raising his voice over the loud engine. “Do you have any idea what direction we should be going in?”
“Sure,” Billie answered. As she leaned in closer to him and spoke directly into his ear, the feeling of her warm breath against his neck sent a shiver down his spine, and he realized that he was stiffening in his jeans.
“Take a left when we get to the edge of the woods,” she continued. “After about forty minutes, we should run into Clay Allison Road. That'll take us around the edge of Caddo Corners and toward the border. Should we stop to grab another car soon? I mean, I know those Taysha back there won't be reporting this thing stolen or anything, but it's not like we can keep buzzing around on it without attracting attention.”
“Very true,” Carter said, shifting in his seat. He was suddenly conscious of her hands pressed against his midsection and her breasts against his back. The feeling made him wish they were both on his motorcycle and he felt a pang of longing, knowing he'd never see his beloved bike again. “You know the area. Are there any good places for us to boost a new ride?”
“Well, I haven't been around here in a long time,” Billie mused. “But the last time I was, there was an outlet mall with a pretty big parking lot. We could try for that.”
“Sounds good,” he said.
Once they'd finished riding up the edge of the woods, they continued for another twenty minutes on the narrow country road until Billie pointed to an intersecting highway. “The mall's about a half mile down that way.”
“Cool,” said Carter. “We should probably leave this thing by the side of the road and go the rest of the way on foot. Otherwise, people are bound to notice us.”
Carter stuffed the brick of pot into his bag and they left the ATV at the crossroads, shielding the sun from their eyes as they walked. Carter felt the sunburn on his cheeks heating up again and glanced over at Billie. She seemed fine, but he knew the sun's rays were probably hurting her too.
“Now that we're back in civilization,” Carter suggested, “maybe we should think about stocking up on a few essentials before we get a car.”
“Like what?” she asked.
“Like for starters, a tube of lotion to treat that sunburn of yours. And mine, too,” he added quickly. “Also some new clothes, while we're at it, to make both of us look a little less conspicuous.”
“But wouldn't it be a risk for us to go inside and buy stuff?” Billie pointed out.
“It would,” he agreed. “But the longer we keep walking around with me looking like a biker and you looking like...well, you, the riskier things are going to get for us. This might be our last chance to pick up new duds for a while.”
“I guess you're right,” she said. “I'm assuming you've got the loot from your bank robberies stashed in your saddlebag?”
“My shares from the first four, anyway,” said Carter. “We didn't really have a chance to split the cash from the Cactus Hollow job, not with Hazmat having a fucking conniption and threatening to kill you.”
Billie's jaw dropped and she gaped at him. “That's Yorick's real name? Fucking Hazmat?”
Carter kicked himself inwardly. He couldn't believe he'd let Hazmat's name slip like that. Still, he'd already told her his own name, so he figured it didn't matter much at this point. If she ever did end up telling the cops who he was, they'd probably be able to figure out who his companions were anyway based on the known associates listed on his rap sheet.
“Heh. Yep, that's his name, all right,” Carter admitted. “Not the one on his birth certificate, of course, but it's what everyone's always called him since I've known him.”
“'Hazmat' like hazardous materials?” she asked. “That might be the dumbest fucking nickname I've ever heard. How did he get it?”
“He loved to tell a bunch of different stories whenever the younger guys asked him that,” Carter said. “Usually, he'd say it was because of his temper, on account of how he could split open and unleash it at any time like a flood of deadly chemicals. One time, he even claimed it was because he'd been a stunt rider and he once jumped his bike over four hazmat trucks. But the president of our last MC once told me that the real reason he was called that was because of how he used to get so drunk he'd puke, piss, and shit all over himself.”
Billie laughed. “Seriously?”
“That's what I heard,” Carter chuckled. “When he'd pass out and prospects tried to move him, the older guys would say, 'Caution! Hazmat! Don't get any on you.'”
“He'd have been better off with Yorick,” she said. “So as long as I already know your name and Hazmat's too, how about the third musketeer?”
“Oiler,” he replied. “Which isn't nearly as bad as Hazmat.”
“Like the old Oilers football team from Houston?” Billie asked. “Is that where he's from or something?”
“Nah, it's because he's good at smoothing things over when shit's about to get confrontational,” Carter said. “A lot of guys in our line of work get off on escalating things for no reason, but Oiler has a knack for chilling people out. You know, like 'oil over troubled waters.'”
“Sounds like a useful guy to have around,” she said.
<
br /> “Both of them can be,” he answered. “Depending on the situation. Anyway, if you're still around when we meet up with them again, don't bring up the whole name thing with Hazmat. He's pissed off at you already.”
“If I'm still around?” Billie asked, grinning. “I figured that would be up to you.”
“Maybe it is,” Carter said. “Maybe I just haven't decided yet. Looks like we're here.”
Sure enough, they had reached the edge of the massive parking lot. It was surrounded on three sides by colorful stores with eye-catching posters advertising huge sales.
“Here, give me some of the cash from your bag,” Billie said. “Smaller bills. And make sure you crumple them up before giving them to me, so they don't look like they came straight from a bank.”
“You're going in alone?”
“Well, I'd better, right?” she said. “If people are looking for me, then they're probably looking for some badass outlaw to be standing right behind me, holding me hostage. If I'm alone, it's less likely they'll think it's really me and report anything to the cops. Besides, it'll give you a chance to figure out which car we should grab and switch out the license plates. You should probably lift a couple of extra plates, too, so we can throw off anyone who's looking for the car without having to steal a bunch more of them.”
“You're getting to be a pretty sharp outlaw,” Carter said uneasily. “Seems like you've thought of everything.”
Billie rolled her eyes. “You don't honestly believe I'll just walk in and call the cops on you or something, do you? After everything we've been through so far? If I really wanted to get away so badly, I could have made a run for it last night while you were asleep.”
Carter had to admit that she had a point. “All right,” he said. He reached into his saddlebag, peeled a few twenties from a bundle of bills, and crinkled them thoroughly. “Will that work?”
“It should,” she replied. “Keep an eye out for me coming out of the mall, so you can wave to me or something and let me know which car to go to.”
And with that, she turned and walked toward the shops.
Chapter 25
Billie
Billie walked the aisles of a discount department store, doing her best to hurry while looking casual. She realized she should have asked Carter what sizes he wore, but as it was, she'd just have to make her best guess.
She grabbed a pair of cargo shorts from a rack, then flipped through a pile of t-shirts until she found a nondescript gray one. As an afterthought, she yanked a pair of cheap flip-flops from a display.
Can't have him wearing those boots with shorts, she thought. He'd look ridiculous. This way, he'll just look like a slacker college dude instead of a biker.
An incredibly hot slacker college dude, she thought with a smile. Even though she knew these clothes would take away from Carter's outlaw look, the thought of his broad shoulders filling out the shirt still made her stomach flutter with desire.
And how was it that just being with him made her feel stronger and safer?
As she picked out a cheap sundress and a wide-brimmed hat for herself, she considered what Carter had said outside about how long they'd be traveling together. Even though he'd referred to her as a hostage the previous night, it was clear that he didn't really think of her as one. Otherwise, he'd never have allowed her to come in here alone.
So why did he still have her with him? And how long did he intend to keep her around?
Granted, if he did turn her loose, he'd still have to worry about her talking to the police. Since she'd grown to like him so much, she was rooting for him to reach Mexico and get away with the money, so she had no intention of cooperating with the authorities when they finally caught up to her—but she could still understand why he wouldn't necessarily believe that.
Still, he clearly wasn't going to kill her, either. And he was already talking about bringing her to the rendezvous with Hazmat and Oiler.
Would he take her all the way to the border? Maybe even past it?
And for that matter, did she even want to go home again?
After the tense scene at the cabin earlier, Billie knew that she should have been scared straight, eager to return to the safety and familiarity of Cactus Hollow. But she'd survived and kept her head together, and she found that the experience hadn't shaken her up all that much. If anything, it had shown her what she was made of and convinced her that she needed to spend more time outside of her comfort zone, braving danger and the unknown.
Maybe she could keep tagging along with Carter and the other bikers and prove herself useful to them in whatever scenario they set up for themselves south of the border. Sure, Hazmat had done a lot of barking last time, but Carter could clearly keep him from biting when it came down to it. He could convince them to let her ride along with their gang, couldn't he?
If he wanted to, of course. Which, for all she knew, he didn't.
She went to the seasonal aisle and selected a tube of sunburn lotion with aloe vera and lidocaine. Then she walked over to the men's grooming section for battery-powered clippers. The way she saw it, if they were going to avoid scrutiny, they'd both need new hairstyles. He probably wouldn't love that idea, but...
Suddenly, Billie noticed that a morbidly obese woman with a shopping cart was staring at her. Three small children stood around her ankles, whining and babbling at her incoherently.
“Ain't I seen you somewheres?” the woman asked. “Like on the TV?”
“Sure,” Billie answered. “I do commercials sometimes.”
“Fer what?”
“Oh, you know, the usual,” Billie stalled, trying to think. “Tampons, douches. If it's something for your vagina, chances are I've probably shilled for it at some point. Excuse me.”
She walked over to the counter quickly, cursing herself for not being able to come up with anything more plausible. Tampons? Douches? Jesus Christ. So much for not drawing attention to herself.
Billie paid for her purchases quickly and left. As she did, she could still feel the fat lady's eyes on her, and she could swear she heard her whispering to the clerk.
Chapter 26
Billie
When Billie left the store, she looked out across the parking lot and saw Carter waving to her. He was standing next to a faded green Chevy convertible from the mid-'90s. Its engine was already purring. She walked over to him with the shopping bags.
“Another oldie-but-goodie, huh?” she said, eyeing the car.
“Always best to go for the older models,” Carter said. “The newer ones are damn near impossible to hotwire because of all the computer systems in them, plus almost all of them have locators and other security shit to worry about. And besides, cops don't usually make finding these beaters as much of a high priority, which can buy us a few hours or maybe even a whole day.”
“Hey, I'm learning something new every day,” Billie chirped happily, getting into the passenger's seat. “I got us some new clothes. It's not Armani, but at least we probably won't look as much like a biker and a hostage. Should we change into them now?”
“Nah, we can wait until we're about to check into a motel for the night,” Carter answered. He tossed his saddlebag in the back seat and situated himself behind the wheel. “I figure we're far enough from the dragnet the cops have set up, so getting a proper room should be pretty safe.”
“Are you sure?” she asked as they pulled out of the parking lot and started down the highway. “I mean, motels are okay and all, but it sounded like those Taysha were really eager to have us stay with them again. We could pack a big bong, maybe hit the casino...”
“Smart ass,” Carter smirked. Looking at his smile, Billie remembered when he'd walked over to her at the saloon to flirt with her, and she found herself getting wet for him all over again.
“So, how does it feel?” he continued.
“What?” she asked, caught off-guard.
“Well, you drove a getaway vehicle after a bank robbery, you've helped steal cars
, you've been in a stand-off with heavily-armed drug dealers,” Carter pointed out. “How does it feel to go from barmaid to stone-cold outlaw in less than two days?”
This reminded Billie of the dream she had last night, and she shuddered in spite of the heat inside the car. He was right, wasn't he? She'd come much too far and made too many decisions for herself to still be considered a helpless victim of circumstance. She had little doubt that if she genuinely wanted to leave Carter at this point, he'd let her.
But she didn't want to leave him now, and she wasn't sure she ever would.
So what did that make her? His willing accomplice. His partner in crime. Maybe Panzie and the other cops would still give her the benefit of the doubt if they caught up to them—a thought which upset her now, even though she'd initially thought it inevitable—but even if they did, she'd still know the truth. How could she just plead innocence and go back to her old life?
