Shattered Highways

by Tara N Hathcock

Not exactly the opening she’d been expecting. “Excuse me?” she asked, not really sure where he was going.

  He grinned, then turned his attention back to the road. “When I told you to get the car started, you said you weren’t Sherlock. But you pulled it off, which means you had the info stashed somewhere.” He was quiet for a minute before adding, “I always thought it would be cool to have a mind palace.”

  Well, this was a weirder start to the conversation than she thought there would be. “What’s a mind palace?”

  “Oh, come on. From Sherlock Holmes? Where he stores all of the crazy information floating through his head.” He was looking at her expectantly, like he couldn’t believe she didn’t get it.

  “Girl, his mind palace!” He shook his head in disbelief. “You read literally all of the time. How can you not know this?”

  “Do you mean his brain attic?” she asked. “You don’t really strike me as much of a Conan Doyle fan and I know you’re not a reader. How do you even know that reference?”

  He grinned again, never taking his eyes off the road. She was really starting to hate that smug smile. “I’m not,” he confirmed good-naturedly. “But I love the show. The Brits really do it right, you know?”

  He glanced in the rear view mirror, adjusting it to better reflect the light. “And on the show, he has a mind palace. Which sounds so much cooler than a brain attic.”

  “There’s a show?” she asked, but then shook her head. “You know what? We’re getting off-topic. You need to start explaining exactly what’s happening.” She held her hands up and motioned out the window. “And it might be nice to know where we’re going,” she added pointedly.

  Logan didn’t speak for a minute, the muscles in his jaw and neck tightening subconsciously. He checked the mirrors again, then glanced at her briefly before turning back to the road.

  “I’m really not good at this part,” he said. “I do the heavy lifting but Dr. Garrison usually does the talking. You’re right though. You do deserve to know what’s going on and where we’re going. And it’s not like we don’t have the time.”

  He reached over and found a ball game on the radio, turning it on low for background noise.

  “When we first met, I told you I was in the military and that I’d lost someone. That’s all true, but it isn’t the whole story.” He paused to adjust the rear view mirror for the third time, his stress evident in the repetition.

  “We were army rangers, working black ops in the middle east. The last mission we went on was messed up from the start.” Logan’s voice faltered momentarily and there was a look in his eyes that Quincy couldn’t quite interpret. But he managed to shake it off and it disappeared before she could place it. “We both sustained some pretty heavy damage. We were medevaced to Germany and both of us went straight into surgery. We had been right next to each other when the explosive detonated.”

  He shook his head. “What are the odds one guy winds up with busted ribs and a collapsed lung while the other one gets brain damage.” He shrugged. “Even after all this time, it doesn’t seem fair somehow, you know?”

  It wasn’t a question that really seemed like it needed an answer so when he sank into his own thoughts again, Quincy let him be. She wanted to believe she wasn’t pushing him because anyone could see the memory was difficult. But in all honesty, she knew she didn’t quite have that much compassion. There was something about the story that made her uncomfortable. Itchy somehow, like something was scratching inside her head, trying to get out. She saw an exit ramp coming up and decided it would be a good diversion for both of them.

  “Let’s pull off and find a gas station or something. I’m thirsty.” She glanced over when he didn’t respond and realized he wasn’t listening.

  “Hey,” she said again, this time shoving against his shoulder.

  “What?” he snapped, a little more harshly than the situation really required, but she decided to give him a pass this time.

  “I said, pull off here. I need a break and something to drink. And you need a walk. I’m not riding with a cranky army ranger all the way to wherever it is we’re going.”

  “You know,” he said, pulling off onto the ramp, “you’re a whole lot bossier than I’d expect someone on a hit list to be. Technically, I did save your life. Would it kill you to throw a thank you out there?”

  He pulled into the nearest convenience store and she gave him a sugary smile. “I’ll buy you something caffeinated and we’ll call it even.”

  Chapter 29

  Logan

  They didn’t really need gas but Logan didn’t want to stop again until they’d cleared the Arkansas/Texas border so he pulled up to the pump closest to the exit. He reached for his wallet, shuffling through several cards until he came to the prepaid credit card he’d charged for just such an occasion. Quincy was already out and rounding the car, heading for the store, when he held it out to her.

  “I have cash,” she said, turning to head inside.

  He grabbed her wrist and spun her back towards him, sliding the card into her hand. “I’m going to fill up while we’re here. Put it all on the card. It’s untraceable and it will cover everything we need.”

  He released her and she rolled her eyes as she turned to head inside. He knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t help himself.

  “Largest coffee you can find. Black. And grab some snacks, too, while you’re in there,” he called to her retreating back. “Beef jerky would be good!”

  She didn’t even bother turning around. One thing he had noticed in their short acquaintance was she did not like being told what to do and, for some reason, he just couldn’t help but push that button. There hadn’t been a lot of opportunity to have fun in his life lately and aggravating her had been a bright spot and temperamental as she was, she never failed to disappoint. He should probably stop before he permanently alienated her. Too late, he thought. The lies have already taken care of that.

  He leaned back against the side of the car, watching the numbers on the gas pump spin. Logan had decided while boosting the car to take a very roundabout route to the clinic in Colorado. They were currently heading for Texas, on a straight shot to the Mexican border. Once there, they would ditch the car and grab something else, pulling the plate switch again, this time with plates he intended to pick up after dark tonight. By the time they needed to use the new plates, they should be several states away and out of reach of a local police alert. He would feel safer once they were headed north. Whoever was hunting Quincy should be looking south to catch them as they presumably tried to cross over into Mexico while they would actually be on their way north. It was a good plan, one that had worked for him in the past.

  The pump shut off and he recapped the tank, then settled back against the car to wait for Quincy. She wasn’t long. She shoved the door open and bounced back out of the store, carrying a sack full of food, a couple bottles of water, and two extremely large cups of coffee. He smiled as she crossed the parking lot towards him. Temperamental or not, a pretty girl was a pretty girl. He decided he’d enjoy it while he could.

  Chapter 30

  Quincy

  Logan was leaning against the driver’s side door watching the store when Quincy came out. His ball cap was pulled low and his sunglasses covered his eyes but she could feel him watching her. She wasn’t sure how she felt about being the subject of an army ranger’s complete focus, although the word uncomfortable came to mind. His arms were crossed, causing the material of his t-shirt to stretch across his very well-defined chest and when he spotted the monster coffee cup in her left hand, he smiled. It was the smile that did it. That stupid, smug, megawatt smile. Her right foot caught a divot in the pavement and she gave a little stutter step, almost falling before she caught herself. She was so glad, at that exact moment, for the protection her sunglasses provided. She really didn’t want him to know she was looking at him when she stumbled. The man’s head would swell to inhuman proportions. But really, who looked that good after be
ing shot at, stealing a car, and reminiscing about war injuries and death? She ran her hand through her hair self-consciously. She certainly didn’t.

  She crossed the parking lot and he pushed off the side of the car, trailing her to the passenger door. Not sure what he was doing, she turned to look at him, thinking maybe he just wanted his coffee really, really badly. But as she turned, he was suddenly in her space, looming over her, and she instantly jerked back, forcing space between them and sloshing the coffee onto her hands and his shirt.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, ready to use the scalding coffee as a weapon if necessary. It would certainly be more useful than the bag of jerky and Skittles she had in her other hand. Her burnt hands felt like they were on fire so she could only imagine what a face full of it would do to a man.

  Logan raised an eyebrow and looked at her with ...was that pity or disappointment? He gestured down towards the door of the car, which he was gripping with his right hand.

  “Being the gentleman my father taught me to be,” he replied. “I’m sorry,” he said sympathetically. “I should have warned you before I made a move. You’re handling everything so well, I forget you were almost on the receiving end of a bullet this afternoon. That would make anyone jumpy.” He carefully took one of the cups from her with his free hand and motioned her inside.

  “Do I need to get some ice for your hand?” he asked.

  “What? Oh, no. It’s fine,” she answered. Embarrassed, she had pushed the pain aside in the wake of her adrenaline spike and now she was too ashamed to admit it. She ducked her head and climbed into the car. Logan looked at her for a second, then shut the door gently before circling around and climbing back inside. They both stayed quiet as he maneuvered onto the highway and Quincy tried to convince her body to relax.

  When Logan had leaned towards her, her mind, so habitually tuned towards playing escape and evade, had interpreted the action as a threat and she’d responded on instinct alone. As her mind replayed the scene, she caught the flash of hurt in his eyes when he realized her reaction was in response to him but he’d backed off instantly, giving her space to come down from her massive overreaction. And it was an overreaction. Back at the cafe this afternoon, she may have thought Logan had been sent to hurt her, but his actions since then had proven that assumption wrong. He had saved her from a sniper. He had stolen a car to get her away from danger. He’d walked away from whatever life he’d had at the university, and, although she now knew that life had been staged, it was still a sacrifice. And he was driving her who-knew-where, all to protect her. He didn’t deserve her suspicion, he deserved her trust. Pity she didn’t know how to give it.

  They were both silent as the car turned back onto the interstate, the only sounds inside the car coming from the ball game still playing quietly on the radio. Quincy had leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes as soon as she was buckled in, trying to create enough distance to calm down. She was still amped up from the adrenaline spike and she knew she needed to explain. He deserved that much. She had been running and hiding for a long time now. Forever it seemed. And her basic instincts had shifted to self-preservation. It was how she reacted to anything unexpected. She wanted to tell him how much she appreciated what he had done for her today, saving her life and all. She wanted to tell him she trusted him. The problem was, she still didn’t. Not completely. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d trusted anyone. Just because he’d protected her from the shooter didn’t mean he didn’t want something in return. The fact remained that he’d lied to her. He’d come to town specifically to find her and get close. He’d inserted himself into her life, but for what purpose? He had said he worked for some doctor, and that they both wanted to help people like her. What did that mean?

  Quincy absently reached down into the bag of gas station snacks and grabbed one of the water bottles she’d picked up. Sitting back in her seat, she pressed it against her hand and wrist where the coffee had spilled. As the questions built rapid-fire in her mind, she could feel Logan beside her, calmly sipping his coffee. It was enough of a distraction for her mind to latch onto. She had had what amounted to a small panic attack and yet, there he sat, not a care in the world. Someone takes a shot at him, no big deal. Hot wire and steal a car? Sure. Why not? Relative stranger attempts to throw hot coffee in his face? Business as usual. There was nothing in her repertoire to explain Logan Davies and his strange sense of equilibrium, which nothing seemed to shake. Super soldier that he was, she had no doubt he could feel her scrutiny, yet he didn’t question her. He didn’t seem anxious to break the silence. That was nice. But she was jittery and she needed an outlet. Since he was the only one available, she shifted in her seat to face him.

  “So, medevaced to Germany?”

  Logan didn’t seem thrown by the sudden return to their previous topic. “Right. Picking the story back up. I don’t actually remember the IED that caused our injuries so I’ll just start with me waking up in a hospital, alone.”

  Chapter 31

  Logan

  “So, medevaced to Germany?” Quincy prompted.

  Logan was thrown by the sudden return to their previous topic. He’d been thinking about her reaction at the gas station, allowing the memory of the painful events that had set him on this path to fade to the back of his mind, and her reminder jarred him out of the present and back in time.

  “Right, picking the story back up. I don’t actually remember the IED that caused our injuries so I’ll just start with me waking up in the hospital, alone,” he said. No one was following them and Quincy seemed stable enough at the moment, so he allowed his mind to wander back again. Back to the moment that changed his entire life.

  Logan came awake instantly and froze, not sure what had set off his mental trip wire. He tried to concentrate on his surroundings but the pain in his chest made it difficult. He pushed it aside like he’d been trained to do and focused. He could hear what sounded like wheels squeaking by and muted conversation in the distance and, closer, steady beeping and the soft whoosh of flowing air. The tickle in his nose clued him in to the source of the air - he had always hated the feel of oxygen tubing snaking around his head and neck, tying him down. So, hospital then.

  Logan’s left arm wouldn’t move so he gingerly lifted his right to grab the tubing around his ears. There was a sharp, burning pain in his chest and back that flared to life with every breath but despite the heaviness, he could function without the oxygen. The iv taped into the bend of his right elbow would have to stay for now considering his one-arm status. Speaking of, he glanced down at his left arm and found it strapped to his chest. He wondered vaguely what the damage was. This wasn’t the first time he’d woken up in the hospital and it likely wouldn’t be the last so he wasn’t too concerned. There should be a call button around somewhere but his eyes were heavy and it suddenly didn’t seem very important anymore. Besides, Jones would keep watch while Logan was down…..

  Jones. Logan’s eyes shot open and he bolted upright in the bed. Or he tried to, anyway. The burning pain he’d relegated to the back of his mind tore through his chest and back at the sudden movement and he fell back to the bed, gasping for breath. Where was Jones? Whenever one of them was down, the other was always there. When one woke up in the hospital, the other would be sacked out in the chair right beside him. Logan had woken up in multiple hospitals and med bays over the years, but he had never woken up without Jones right beside him.

  He glanced around for the call button again but it was nowhere in sight. He growled low in his throat, frustration mounting, but decided the call button was irrelevant. He was army, he was hurt, and he wasn’t sure where his partner was. He was getting out of this bed. His heart monitor had started alarming the minute he realized Jones was missing, announcing his body’s response to panic and pain for the whole world to hear, but still no one came. What kind of low-brow place was this? Logan grit his teeth and, breathing as slowly and shallowly as possible, swung his legs off th
e side of the bed, pulling on the rail with his good arm to protect his chest as much as possible. He felt a painful tug against his injured side but ignored it. His head swam once he was upright and he threw out his good arm and made a wild grab for the iv pole. His hand connected and he used it to steady himself. He took a moment to close his eyes and get his bearings before he tried to make it the rest of the way up. He knew from past experience that the dizziness would pass and it wouldn’t do Jones any good if he made it to his feet only to pass out again. He straightened up after a couple of slow breaths and pushed off the bed, making sure his legs were going to hold him. Despite feeling like rubber, he didn’t think his legs had taken any damage. And really, even though the rest of him felt like it had been through a trash compactor, if he were guessing, he’d say some broken ribs and a concussion were his biggest problems. He could work with that.

  He’d pulled the heart monitor wires off his chest and had almost made the door when it flew open, a tiny, wizened little woman narrowly avoided clipping him as she blasted into the room. Finally, he thought. Did someone have to die around here to get some attention? But before he had the chance to open his mouth, the small nurse with a grip like iron had a hold on his good arm and was manhandling him back towards the bed.

  “Lieutenant Davies, you scared us to death out there. You don’t just disconnect your heart monitor!”

  Logan tried to shake her off but she was surprisingly strong for such a small woman. She shook his arm, harshly, he thought, for someone who had just woken up with unknown, possibly debilitating injuries. She glared at him.

  “And you pulled out your chest tube!”

  Logan glanced down and noticed the blood staining the left side of his gown. He had felt the pull and noticed the wetness against his side, but in the distant way he sometimes had when he was on a mission and had no time to worry about minor details.