by Zoey Parker
“Yes,” she said quietly. I almost couldn't hear her over the wind in my ears.
“Good. Tell me how to get there.”
“Go back on the highway at the next on-ramp,” she replied. “Go about six miles, then take the Zion exit. There's an outlet there.”
“Thank you,” I said.
We rode in silence for a long time before I realized why she was acting so terrified. “Hey, when I said I needed your help or I might have to kill someone else today, I didn't mean you,” I said, trying to sound gentle. I hadn't realized she might take it that way. “I'm not gonna hurt you. I hope you know that.”
“I know,” Jewel answered.
“And I'm doing everything I can to keep you safe and make sure you get to go home,” I continued.
“I know,” she said again.
This time, she sounded a little less sure.
Chapter 17
Jewel
I didn't think anything could shake me up inside more than the bullets that had been flying in my direction, but standing by as Rafe choked the life out of someone gave me a sick, ugly, squirming feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Watching someone get killed slowly just a few feet away from me and seeing the life leave their eyes planted a seed of dread deep inside of me. Even though I knew the man had been sent to kill us both, I couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to be strangled to death, gasping and flapping around like a fish that's been pulled out of water. Would they decide to kill me that way, if they caught up with us? Would they shoot me? Stab me? Would they torture me first?
It all felt like a bad dream again, the kind where I'm being chased by faceless murderers and no matter how fast or far I run, they're always just ahead of me, waiting to catch up. I was starting to believe we'd never be safe no matter where we went or how many people Rafe killed. Part of me was so exhausted that I wanted to give up and let them kill me, just so the fear would end and I wouldn't have to run anymore.
But then I thought of my parents. I was their only child. I couldn't let them outlive me. And besides, I had Rafe to protect me.
Even though he scared me, too.
I didn't know why Rafe had asked me about the outlet mall. At first, I thought he was just asking me random questions to keep my mind off the fact that he'd just killed someone. But when we pulled into the parking lot of the mall, he explained.
“We're too easy to identify,” Rafe said. “We need some different clothes.” He opened the dead man's wallet and fished out a bunch of twenty-dollar bills, handing them to me. “Go grab some new stuff for us to wear. I'm a large in pretty much everything. Remember, nothing too colorful or eye-catching. We want to blend in. We'll need some hair dye and some scissors, too.”
“Okay,” I said. “But what about the bike? Won't they still spot us if we're riding it?”
“Leave that to me,” Rafe answered. “Meet me at the west entrance in twenty minutes.”
“Should we have a signal in case you get into trouble, like last time?” I offered.
Rafe gave me a grim smile. “Sure,” he said. “If you hear gunshots, that means I'm in trouble and you should probably run in the other direction.”
As I nervously flipped through the clothes on hangers in the clothing store, I kept listening for shots in the parking lot.
By the time I got to the beauty store and the clerk was ringing me up for the hair dye, I still hadn't heard any. But my mind couldn't stop thinking of knives and poisoned rags and a hundred other things that can kill without making a sound.
Chapter 18
Rafe
When Jewel went inside the mall, I took out the burner and called the Nest. One of the younger Reapers answered, and I asked for Boomer. He got on a moment later.
“Hey Rafe,” Boomer said. “You stayin' alive out there?”
“Barely,” I answered, lighting a cigarette. As I talked on the phone, I walked up and down the rows of cars in the parking lot, looking them over. I saw a wire hanger laying on the ground and picked it up, whipping it around aimlessly. “How are things over there?”
“Same as it ever was,” Boomer said. “Bard was disappointed that you decided to go after Jester, but he wasn't surprised and he ain't angry. Everyone here's wishing they could help you, but...”
“Hey, I understand,” I replied, thinking of Growler. For all I knew, I could be pulling up a wheelchair next to him if this thing with Jester went the wrong way. Hell, that was probably a best-case scenario. “Listen, have you heard anything about the Mancusos making any moves lately?”
“Yeah, I figured you'd be calling to ask, so I kept my ear to the ground,” Boomer answered. “They sent a couple of guys up to Milwaukee, to a place called The Flytrap. No idea why, though.”
“I have an idea about that,” I said. “Do you know who they sent?”
“Uh-huh,” Boomer said. From his voice, it sounded like he wished he didn't. “You ever hear of the Chayner brothers?”
“Nope,” I said. “Must have been after my time.” I spotted a nondescript maroon Saab from the early '90s. That could work, I thought.
“Well, they're bad news,” Boomer continued. “Ever since Jester got promoted and stopped killing people himself, the Chayner brothers have become the Mancusos' star assassins. Between them, they've got a bodycount that's close to the triple digits. Before they hooked up with the Mancuso family, they rode with the Bloody Rippers.”
“Fuck,” I hissed. The Bloody Rippers had been legendary among MCs for their insane love of carnage and their willingness to terrorize innocent people for fun. Even other outlaws had feared them and stayed out of their way. Most of them had been shot to death when they refused to surrender during an FBI raid back in the early 2000s. If these Chayners were really ex-Rippers, I'd rather have gone up against Darth Vader, the Terminator, and a pack of radioactive motherfucking polar bears with missile launchers mounted on their backs than take my chances against those psychos.
“Yeah, fuck,” Boomer agreed. “They're big-time boogeymen. They have their bikes an' helmets painted to look like monsters or something. Sure you don't wanna come back, sew your new patch on, an' forget the whole damn thing?”
“Too late for that,” I said, thinking of Jewel. “Shit got complicated. There's a girl they're trying to whack.”
“So?” Boomer replied. “What's that got to do with the price of gas?”
“Nah, I need her,” I said, untwisting the wire hanger. “She might have info that could lead me to Jester.”
“Well, just be careful out there,” Boomer said. “Girls can slow you down, and believe me, you do not want to be slow with the Chayners on your tail.”
“Thanks,” I answered. “I hate to ask, but I need another favor.”
“Sure,” Boomer said. “Anything.”
“I'm at the outlet mall near the Zion exit,” I continued. “You know the place?”
“Oh sure,” Boomer said, laughing. “I buy all my fuckin' khakis there.”
“Fuckin' wise-ass,” I chuckled, sliding the hanger down the window-slot of the Saab and jimmying the lock. “Anyway, we're switching rides, and I need to leave Rosie in the parking lot. Can you come pick her up?”
“Sure,” Boomer said. “I'll take one of the prospects.”
“Thank you,” I replied. The Saab door popped open and I got behind the wheel. I took out my Swiss Army knife, pulled out the chisel tool, and used it to pry off one of the panels near the ignition keyhole. “Oh, one more thing. You remember Angelo, right? He used to hang around Jester all the time.”
“Yeah, I remember that dickweed,” Boomer answered. “Rolled dice with him once. He cheated like a motherfucker.”
“Do you know if he ever carried around a golden gun?”
Boomer laughed again. “What, like the fuckin' James Bond movie?”
I rolled my eyes as I used the tools in my knife to strip a couple of wires in the dashboard down to their copper roots. “If that helps you, sure.”
&nb
sp; “No, he never had no golden gun,” Boomer said. “He'd have looked pretty stupid with one, and he didn't need the help.”
“Okay, cool,” I said. I gave him the number for the burner, in case he needed to get in touch with me. “Thanks again, Boomer.”
“Any time, Rafe,” he answered, hanging up.
I dialed Snoops' number again and he picked up on the first ring. “Hey, it's Rafe,” I said. “I got a burner, so you can use this number to call me if you need to. See anything so far?”
“Nah, all quiet up here,” Snoops said. “No gangsters. Hardly any customers, either, for that matter. How this place even stays open, I have no idea.”
“Well, stay sharp up there,” I said. “Keep your eyes open and your guns loaded.” I didn't know whether Snoops had ever heard of the Chayner brothers, but I figured it was better not to mention them by name in case it scared Snoops off.
“Hey, no need to worry, Rafe,” Snoops insisted. “This ain't our first rodeo, after all!” He laughed and hung up.
Yeah, this may not be your first rodeo, I thought, but that's because you're used to busting bulls and broncos. What we're dealing with here is more like trying to stay on the back of a fucking fire-breathing dragon.
I twisted the copper wires together and the Saab's engine came to life. I shoved the knife back into my pocket and drove the car around to the west entrance, where Jewel was waiting with a couple of shopping bags.
Chapter 19
Jewel
I did a double-take when I saw Rafe behind the wheel of the Saab. I'd gotten so used to seeing him sitting astride his bike that the sight of him inside a car was jarring.
He smiled at me. The corners of his eyes crinkled warmly again, and I felt a tug of lust below my waist. God, he was gorgeous.
“Nice ride, huh? Do I look like a cager or what?”
“What's a cager?” I asked.
“A non-biker,” Rafe answered. “Someone who willfully spends his life confined to a car instead of riding free and feeling the breeze on his face. Cars are cages to guys like me. So, 'cager.' And you should probably hurry up and hop in before the owner comes out and realizes his car's gone.”
“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 adverti
sing 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.”
