I felt tears start. “Really? You trust me, even though I’m half angel?”
He regarded me in confusion. “I’ve known you were half angel since the day we met.”
“I know, but —” I swiped at my eyes. “It just feels a lot more real to me now. Do you trust me?”
Slowly, Alex shook his head. “How can you even ask me that, after what you did? I’d trust you with my life.”
I almost sobbed out loud; I tried to turn it into a laugh. “I thought — I thought you didn’t trust anyone.”
“I’ll make an exception in your case.” Reaching out, Alex touched the side of my face, gently cupping my cheek with his hand. “Willow, that was the — nicest, most wonderful — stupidest thing that anyone’s ever done for me.”
I did laugh then, wiping my eyes. “So you really want to hang out with someone this stupid?”
His own smile faded. “Yeah, I do,” he said softly, his hand still touching my face.
The world went very still around us. I could hear the sound of a distant car passing on the highway; my heart thudded crazily as we stared at each other. Alex hesitated. His head moved a fraction, so that for a wild moment I actually thought he was going to kiss me.
Then a look that I couldn’t read flickered through his eyes. Letting his hand fall from my face, he cleared his throat and smiled. “If, um — you still want to hang out with me, that is.”
I nodded, my cheeks on fire. “Yeah, I think I can deal with that,” I said, managing to smile through my embarrassment. How could I have imagined, even for a second, that he was about to kiss me?
“So . . . what now?” I said after a pause, trying to sound normal.
Silently, Alex finished packing his first-aid kit. “Come on, let’s get something to drink,” he said.
Standing outside, he fed coins into the vending machine, buying us each a Coke. I hadn’t thought I wanted anything, but it tasted wonderful, like nectar, and I took deep gulps. We were alive. That was the important thing. And we were still going to be together. Warmth filled my chest.
Leaving the porch area, we went back out into the sunshine, heading toward the truck. Alex was frowning, looking down as he walked. “To tell you the truth, I think our options are pretty limited,” he said. “I was counting on Cully to know how to reach the other AKs.” He sighed. “What we really need is for the CIA to find us, if Project Angel still exists.”
“Could they?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, in theory . . . if there’s anyone left in Project Angel without angel burn, then they’ve got to be looking for us — they must have spies in the Church of Angels who’ll have heard what’s going on.”
I thought about this as we reached the truck. I could feel the heat coming off it, just standing next to it. “That doesn’t help us, though, does it? Even if they are looking for us, we don’t have any way to contact them.”
Alex shook his head as he drained his Coke. “No, we’re on our own.” He pitched the empty can into a metal garbage can nearby; it made a ringing noise. “Look, I think that just keeping alive is probably a pretty good goal for now. How would you feel about going underground for a while? It’ll give us some breathing room, so we can try to figure out what to do.”
“Going underground?” I repeated. “You mean — hide out somewhere?”
His eyes met mine. “Yeah, what do you think? I know a place we can go.”
Remembering the warmth of his hand on my cheek, my heart quickened at the thought of being somewhere alone with him, not on the run or driving all day. “That . . . sounds good,” I got out.
“OK,” he said, nodding. We climbed into the truck. Alex put the first-aid kit back in his bag, then tapped the steering wheel, looking deep in thought. “So, with any luck, those were the only angels in the area. If we get away fast, it might take a while for the others to figure out what’s happened. The place I’m thinking of is up in the mountains, so we should check out whatever Cully’s got in those boxes back there, make sure we have enough food. We need to stop and grab a few things, anyway.”
I started to smile. “You mean we’re going shopping?”
Alex laughed. “Don’t get too excited; we’re talking sporting goods.” He started the truck. “OK,” he said. “‘It’s a hundred and six miles to Chicago, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it’s dark, and we’re wearing sunglasses.’”
I felt my mouth quirk at the Blues Brothers quote. And I thought — even if he’s never going to feel the same way that I do, it doesn’t matter. I still want to be with him.
I never wanted to be without him.
“Hit it,” I said.
A few hours later, they had crossed over into Arizona, keeping to minor roads when they could. At a small shopping mall outside of Phoenix, Alex pulled into a space that was half hidden behind a Dumpster. Opening the boxes that held Cully’s supplies, they examined the stacks of canned food. “Do you think it’ll be enough?” asked Willow, craning over her seat.
“I’d better get some more,” said Alex, looking across at the supermarket that sat at one end of the mall. “I want us to be able to hide out for a long time if we need to.”
Willow glanced at the supermarket, too, her brow furrowed. “Well, I guess I’d better stay in the truck while you get whatever we need. I don’t have a cap anymore, to hide my hair.”
Alex knew that she was right, but he didn’t like the thought of leaving her alone — not when a description of the truck had probably already been circulated to every Church of Angels member in the country. “I’ll hurry,” he said. “Here — take this, OK?” He reached under his T-shirt and pulled out his gun; her green eyes widened as he held it out to her.
“Alex, you know I don’t —”
“Please,” he said.
Gingerly, she took it, looking as if she expected it to grow teeth and bite her. “I could seriously never use this,” she said.
“Fine, just wave it threateningly at someone if you have to. But I’d feel better if you had it.” He took out his wallet and glanced inside it, counting his cash.
Willow’s eyebrows rose at the number of bills. She placed the gun carefully in the storage bucket, keeping her fingers well away from the trigger. “Are you sure you’re not really a drug dealer?”
Alex laughed. “No, I just never trusted the CIA much. I always kept some cash on hand in case I needed to take off.” He eyed the clothes she was wearing. “You’re going to need a few things; it’ll be colder where we’re going. What size do you wear? Shoe size, too, so I can get you some hiking boots.”
Willow told him, looking apprehensive. “You mean you’re going to do my shopping for me?”
He grinned. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Says the guy who called my favorite skirt a ‘purple skirt thing.’ Look, only get solid colors, OK? I hate prints. And could you get me a toothbrush?”
“Solid colors, no prints, toothbrush — got it. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Alex paused before he got out, concern creasing through him at the thought of her out here on her own. “Look, keep down, all right? Pretend you’re asleep or something.”
She nodded, her eyes warm on his. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
Alex did the shopping as quickly as he could, loading a shopping cart with everything he thought they might need. At the sporting goods store, he bought them both hiking boots and thermal sleeping bags, a camp stove and canisters of gas. He didn’t start to feel really out of his depth until he checked out a clothing store to get things for Willow. He did the best he could, taking a pile of clothes to the counter.
“Shopping for your girlfriend?” said the girl at the cash register.
“Sort of,” said Alex. As she rang up his purchases, his attention was caught by a display of silver jewelry on the checkout counter. One of the necklaces had a chain so slim it was almost invisible; a faceted crystal teardrop hung from it, catching the light. Lifting the necklace from the display rack, Alex turned the crystal pe
ndant over in his hand. It reminded him of Willow. The crystal was the way her angel had looked, as she hovered in the sky above him.
“That’s pretty, isn’t it?” said the girl. “I bet she’d like it.” She dimpled at him.
Alex ran his thumb over the crystal, not sure whether it was a good idea. But the memory of Willow’s angel lingered: the way it had protected him, keeping him from harm. He’d never been so moved by anything in his life. Besides, he thought, they’d probably still be in hiding when their birthdays came up in a few weeks; it would be nice to have something to give to her.
He unhooked the necklace from the rack. “Could I get this?”
The girl placed the necklace in a small white box padded with cotton. “You are going to get so many brownie points for this.” She smiled and put it in the large plastic bag with the rest of Willow’s clothes.
“Here, I’ll — keep that separate,” said Alex. He stuck the box in his pocket and paid her. “Thanks.”
He headed back to the truck, feeling confused by his own actions. The moment in the restroom came hurtling back; he had come this close to kissing Willow. What the hell had he been doing, anyway? He knew better. He didn’t want to be as close to anyone as he’d somehow already managed to get to Willow, even just as friends. It wasn’t worth it; caring about people simply meant that he would lose them.
Yet it felt as if there was no way back. He didn’t want to be without her, either.
When Alex reached the truck, to his relief Willow was curled up asleep, hardly even visible from outside. He stood gazing at her for a second, thinking how peaceful she looked.
“Hey,” he said softly, leaning in and touching her shoulder through the open window.
She stirred drowsily awake, blinking up at him. “Oh, wow, I really did fall asleep.” Getting out, she helped him load some of the lighter boxes into the truck.
“Careful of your arm,” he said, glancing at the bandage.
“It’s all right, just a little sore. I had a good doctor.” Spotting the shopping bag with the clothes, Willow peeked inside. “Hey, that red sweater’s really pretty. OK, maybe you can be trusted with important clothes missions after all.”
“Phew.” Alex had thought the color would look great with her hair, though he was too embarrassed to say so now. He nodded at the shopping bag as he stacked boxes. “I got you another baseball cap, too — you’d better put it on.”
She did so, tucking her blond hair out of sight, then put on her sunglasses. As they finished loading the supplies, she said, “Do you want me to drive for a while?”
“That’s OK; go back to sleep if you want.”
Willow had her head to one side, taking in the truck’s lines. “No, I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t mind, really.”
Alex grinned suddenly. “Oh, I get it. You just want to drive a big 4x4 and see what it’s like, right?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” She shot him a laughing look. “You must be psychic or something.”
“Hey, you’re not the only one with talent. Go for it,” he said, tossing her the keys. She snapped them from the air, and a minute later was moving the driver’s seat forward, looking incredibly cute behind the wheel. Trying not to think about it, he settled beside her, stretching his legs out.
Starting up the truck, Willow checked the rearview mirror and maneuvered them out of the parking lot. “Which way am I going?”
“Take the interstate north for now,” he directed. “We’ll get off it soon and use back roads instead.”
She pulled out onto the main road. “This is great,” she said, downshifting as she slowed for a stoplight. “Nice and smooth.”
“No way. Is it really better than a Mustang?”
“You know, it’s so sad how you just don’t get it.” She glanced at him with a smile.
They rode in companionable silence for a while. Willow turned on the radio, twirling the dial to a classical station. The floating, buoyant sound of a violin concerto wrapped around them. “Is this OK?” she asked.
Alex had his eyes half closed, his hands linked over his stomach. “Yeah, I like classical. Dad used to play it sometimes.”
Between the music and the motion of the truck, he almost drifted off to sleep himself. Then Willow’s voice said, “Alex, can you wake up?” He opened his eyes groggily. She was peering into the rearview mirror, looking anxious. “Tell me I’m being paranoid,” she said. “That green Pontiac back there. Is it following us?”
Immediately wide awake, he twisted in his seat. The Pontiac was cruising along behind them, about ten car lengths back. “What’s it been doing?” he asked.
“Keeping exactly that same length behind us, no matter what I do. I’ve tried speeding up a little and slowing down, and it always stays right there.” She looked in the mirror again. “I mean, I know it’s the interstate, so it’s hard to tell. I’ve just . . . sort of got a feeling about it.”
Willow’s “feelings” were more than good enough for him. “OK. Move to the outside lane,” said Alex. She did. A moment later the Pontiac followed, gliding across the lanes.
“Just keep going at this speed,” he said, keeping an eye on the Pontiac. “Then when you get to the next turnoff, throw the wheel hard and get onto it.”
Willow nodded, her hands tensing on the wheel. An exit came up a few miles later; waiting until the last possible second, she spun the wheel sharply to the right and swerved across three lanes of traffic. Horns blared; the 4x4 lurched as she bounced up the ramp, spinning the wheel to right them. Behind them, the Pontiac quickly changed lanes but didn’t make the exit in time. Alex watched as they sailed fruitlessly past.
“Now, as soon as you can, get back onto the interstate again, still heading north.”
Willow’s eyes flew to his. “Back? But —”
“It’s all right. Trust me.”
With a worried look, she took the next turnoff, returning them to the interstate. About ten minutes later, Alex spotted the green Pontiac speeding down the interstate in the opposite direction, having obviously taken the next exit off to follow them. He let out a breath. “Good. They fell for it.”
Willow let out a breath. “Do you think we lost them?”
“For now, anyway,” he said. He glanced at her. “Hey, pretty good driving.”
“Pretty good trick,” she said, trying to smile. “Did you have high-speed chase lessons in school?”
Alex hesitated. “Cully told me about it,” he said finally. “He used to bootleg, back in Alabama. You should have heard the stories he used to tell.” He fell silent, pain knifing through him.
Willow was watching his face. “I’m sorry,” she said. “He was a good friend, wasn’t he?”
Memories flashed past — Cully smoking his cigar with a grin, shaking his head in the rearview mirror at him and Jake. And then later, Cully’s arm firm around his shoulders, steadying him, saying, You did good. You did good. Alex cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’ve known him for most of my life. He was just . . . a really good guy.” He tried for an upbeat tone. “Wow, look, another depressing topic.”
“I don’t mind depressing topics,” said Willow softly.
“I do.” He leaned back in his seat again, stretching his legs out. Deliberately, he changed the subject. “Do you want to stop and grab something to eat soon, if there’s a drive-through?”
“OK,” said Willow after a pause. Then she gave him an arch look. “It’s time for a coffee break. That’s what you’re really saying, isn’t it? You need your caffeine fix.”
The urge at that moment to reach across and touch Willow — to link his fingers through hers as she rested her hand on her thigh, or stroke her bright hair back from her temple — was almost overpowering. He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Yep, definitely time for a coffee break,” he said, closing his eyes. “You see right through me.”
THEY SLEPT IN SHIFTS that night, driving steadily northwest. The states changed from California to Nevada and t
hen back again as they danced with the border, leaving the desert behind them and entering the mountains — the Sierra Nevada. By around six a.m., the route had grown so steep that Alex had to keep changing gears as he steered the truck up the twisting roads. He knew that hidden in the predawn shadows, there was a drop of several hundred feet to one side, with only a flimsy guardrail between it and the truck. In several places, the sweep of their headlights showed skid marks, where cars had crashed into it.
Finally, on the mountain side of the road, he spotted the hard, rocky scrabble that he remembered from the camping trip with Jake, when they’d first found this place. Engaging the four-wheel drive, Alex steered them off-road and the truck obediently started up the hill. A minute later, they’d rounded a bend, taking them out of view from the main road.
Willow stirred, lifted her head. “Where are we?” she asked sleepily, her blond hair tousled. Glancing at her, Alex found it hard to take his gaze away; she looked so soft and vulnerable.
“Not there yet,” he said. “Go back to sleep if you want.”
Instead she stretched and sat up, peering out the window. “The place is up here?”
“Yeah, about fifteen miles back in the mountains.” He concentrated as he drove; the way was even worse than he remembered, even in a truck like this. They moved slowly, rocking from side to side as the 4x4 crawled upward.
After more than an hour, they finally came to a high, stony valley, with grass and shrubs growing resolutely between the rocks. Alex parked the truck. They were in a sort of bowl in the middle of the mountains; around them, the morning sun tinged the peaks with a golden light, making them appear to glow from the inside.
“This is . . . beautiful,” said Willow, shaking her head with awe. “Are we camping?”
“Kind of.” Climbing out of the truck, Alex suddenly felt happier than he’d felt in a long time. The air was so fresh up here that it hit you like a rush of adrenaline, waking you up and making you feel alive. He grinned at Willow. “Come on, it’s time for the hiking boots.”
They got their boots on, and Willow pulled the bright red sweater over her head. He had been right; it looked great on her. “This place is gorgeous,” she repeated softly, taking in the early morning mist that curled about the valley and the evergreens that spiked toward the sky. Then she glanced at the truck. “Wait a minute. Do we have to carry all this stuff?”
Angel Burn Page 23
