by Bella King
Chapter Six
The car begins to stutter and stall, slowing down and jerking as it struggles to find more fuel in the tank. This is the end of the road for us unless Devin has any clever ideas.
I see a sudden movement out of the corner of my eye and glance into the side mirror to see one of the trucks swerves across the adjacent lane and make a hard impact in the ditch. Dirt flies up in the air as the truck is totaled.
“Did you hit him?” I yell over the sound of more gunfire.
“Hell yeah, I did,” Devin shouts back triumphantly.
I can tell that he’s proud that he has gotten rid of one of our pursuers, but I’m just worried that we’ll end up in jail over this. The last time I checked, killing people was still illegal.
I lurch forward in my seat, nearly banging my head against the steering wheel as we are hit from the back. There’s another crack of gunfire, and then our car begins to slow down more. There’s nothing left in the tank.
“Another one,” Devin shouts, pumping his fist as the red Mustang slows to a crawl.
I look back to see the truck behind us stopped in the road, gunshots littered throughout the windshield. I see red against the white of the cracked glass and turn away. I don’t want to see a dead man.
“Aren’t you proud of me? I saved us,” Devin says cheerfully, turning to me with a goofy grin on his face.
“No,” I say, feeling outright disturbed by what has just happened. “You killed people.”
“I had to,” Devin says nonchalantly. “They would have done the same to us. But hey, we have gas now,” he says, tapping a finger against his temple.
I don’t think any of this is something to handle with such a trifling attitude, but Devin is clearly off his rocker. The way that he casually killed the men pursuing us worries me, even if he did do it to save us. He shouldn’t feel so happy about it.
Devlin kicks open his door and jumps out of the car as I stay seated behind the wheel. I’m assuming that he’s going to siphon gas from the truck behind us, but I don’t want to take part in it. This is his crazy adventure, not mine, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to get out of it in one piece.
I wait in the driver’s seat while Devin goes to the truck to take their fuel. He comes back a moment later, tapping on the glass on my side of the car.
I roll down the window, irritated that he wants to include me in this nonsense. “What?” I snap at him.
“Woah, easy now, Mrs.” He pauses. “What’s your last name?”
“Kennedy.”
“Really? That’s a cool name. Marybeth Kennedy. Like the president. Shit, wait. Are you related?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, so you’re going to be in a load of trouble for kidnapping me.”
He laughs. “I know you’re not. You’re just a cute little Texas girl running from the cartel with me.”
I glare at him.
Devin remains cheerful. “I was worried before, but I don’t think we’re going to get more company for a while. Heck, we might even make it to the border without any more problems.”
“Why are you talking to me?” I ask, trying to force him to get to the point. I don’t like him rambling on about bullshit like we’re just two friends on an afternoon drive. This is serious.
“Oh, right,” he says. “I’m going to need you to put the car in neutral so that I can push it back toward the truck. The tube I have for siphoning isn’t very long.”
“You do this often?” I ask as I push the shifter into neutral.
“Shooting up the cartel?” he asks as he comes around to the front of the car.
There’s only so many times I can roll my eyes at this man before my eyes roll out of my dang skull. “No, siphoning gas,” I say, leaning out the window.
Devin places his hands on the bumper, careful not to touch the steaming hood. He looks up at me through the windshield, his muscles flexing as he begins to push the car. “I only just started doing it in Mexico when I was on the run. A lot the cars down there don’t have the safety lock to prevent people from stealing their gas.”
“Can’t you just buy gas? Oh, wait,” I say, holding up a finger. “That would involve getting a job.”
“You’re hilarious,” Devin replies dryly, pushing the car. “I’ve been siphoning gas so that I don’t leave a paper trail. You know, people see you at the gas station, and they keep receipts. The cartel has access to that stuff.”
“And yet they still managed to find you,” I reply, hanging out the window. “You must not be terribly bright.”
Devin stops pushing the car and stands up. “You’re right. I haven’t been very smart, but I can fix that. You’re going to push the car the rest of the way.”
“No way,” I say, jerking my head back into the car. “Do it yourself.”
He shakes his head and places his hands on his hips. “We can both die out here in the heat. Would you like that?”
I want to challenge him further, but he honestly looks like he can outlast me in this heat. The air conditioning in the car isn’t on anymore, and I can feel the waves of summer heat, making my skin prickle again. It’s unpleasant.
I figure that hopping out of the car and helping him push it is better than being trapped inside and cooked alive, so I begrudgingly open the door and hop out.
“Nice of you to join me,” Devin teases.
I shake my head at him as I come up beside him. For some reason, just being close to him makes my IQ drop by a significant amount, and I forget that the hood of the car is still unbelievably hot. I place both my palm on it, then jerk them away just as quickly as they landed. “Jesus,” I bellow, wiping them against the sides of my shorts.
Devin laughs. “Look who’s calling who stupid.”
“Shut it,” I grumble, placing my hands on the cooler part of the bumper and giving the car a shove.
It starts to move, but slowly. I’m not sure if I can push it by myself, and Devin is just standing behind me, not helping me. I turn around and catch him staring at my ass. “Ugh, will you stop being a creep and help me push this hunk of metal?”
Devin smiles at me, taking another obvious look at my ass before joining me against the bumper. “I was just admiring my partner in crime,” he says.
“I’m not your partner,” I say. I’m thoroughly fed up with him at this point, so much so that I’ve already forgotten about the people he has just killed. I’m not afraid of him. I’m just pissed that he dragged me into all this.
Devin digs his feet into the ground and helps me push, keeping his eyes on me. He doesn’t look away as the car starts rolling back, but I ignore him. I don’t want him to get any weird ideas about me. He has already made it clear that he’s attracted to me, but I don’t like him. Handsomeness alone doesn’t cut it.
The Mustang rolls back far enough to make contact with the front bumper of the truck, stopping suddenly in the road.
Devin stands straight and dusts off his hands. “Mission accomplished. I’m going to need to get some work done on this car once we get to Canada, though.”
I ignore him again. I don’t care what he has to say, or what he plans to do. I circle back around the car and hop into the driver’s seat while he goes back to siphon gas from the truck.
When I climb into the driver’s seat, I realize that once Devin puts gas into the tank, I’ll have a brief moment where I can flee from him in the car. He won’t be able to catch me in this thing, and I might just be able to get away.
I glance into the side mirror to see him coming around with a clear plastic tube and an empty petrol canister. Once he fills that up and dumps it into the tank, there’s nothing to stop me from hitting the gas and taking the car out of here. I don’t know where I am, but if I turn around now, I might be able to make it back to town before I run out of gas again.
I try to act casual in the car as I watch Devin out of the corner of my eye. I pick up an apple from the floor and rub it on my shirt, probably making it dirty than it already was
. I rub it against the back of the seat, leaving a faint brown spot on the leather, then I take a bite, tasting the tart sweetness on my tongue.
The car is off, but all it will take is for me to turn the keys, and I’ll be gone. Devin was foolish to leave the keys in the ignition when he got out, but he has made so many mistakes that I’m not surprised he made another one. I wait impatiently for him to fill the gas tank.
I take another bite of my apple, the juices rolling down the sides of my mouth, down my chin, and to my neck. I don’t bother to clean them. My face is too dirty at this point for me to care. The first thing I’m doing when I get home is taking a shower. That is, after I tell the police what Devin has done.
Devin is still fooling around with the canister of gas in the back. He seems to have finally siphoned enough gas from the truck to put in the car, and now he’s filling it up. I eye the keys but keep my hand away from them. I want to look as casual and nonthreatening as I can to Devin. He needs to trust me, but only for this moment.
I find it funny that he trusted me when I went out to pee. Maybe he thinks that because I’m cute that I’m trustworthy. I find it funny how willing some men are to trust a pair of blonde braids and a set of blue eyes, or maybe it was just my ass. I wouldn’t know.
Devin tilts the petrol canister up, pouring the last drops into the tank. That’s my signal to go. The second he removes the nozzle from the tank, I lurch for the ignition, turning it so fast that the keys might snap. I grin to myself as I slam a foot down on the gas, but all I get is a roar of the engine. I don’t move.
My smile quickly fades as I’m trying to figure out what’s going on. Why isn’t the car moving? I look around, pressing the pedal several times before I figure out that the reason I haven’t gone anywhere is that the car is still in neutral. Who’s the stupid one now?
I reach to the shifter, wiggling it around to try to put it into position, but it won’t budge. I panic, not able to think clearly anymore as the door opens, and Devin’s large hand clasps around my shirt. He rips me from the seat as I realize that my foot should have been on the brake to change the gear.
“You’re not getting away that easily,” Devin growls, pulling me out into the road by my shirt.
“Ouch,” I whine, trying to jerk away from him.
“Stop struggling,” he demands, his voice becoming deep and aggressive.
I go limp, allowing him to hold me in place next to the car.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Trying to escape?” he asks, shaking me.
I shake my head.
“No?” he shouts. “You were going to leave me out here to die, you little twat.”
“I wasn’t,” I reply meekly, but we both know that’s not true. I was intending on stranding him in the desert.
“I’m really tired of you, Marybeth. Maybe I should leave you out here like you were going to do to me.”
I could travel to the opposite road and hail a car, but I don’t think of that when he speaks the words. Too much is happening for me to think clearly. I’m afraid of being left alone with two trucks full of dead cartel members. “Don’t,” I plead, my voice cracking from anguish.
“Don’t,” he mocks, pouting his lips and speaking in a high-pitched voice, mocking my accent.
I frown at him, glaring through the afternoon sun at his stupid face. I hate him, and I was sure of it now. Before, he could have redeemed himself, but now I know that he’s just a bully. I’m so done with Devin.
He looks down on me for a moment more, then jerks me back toward the car. “Get in and shut your fucking mouth. If you try anything funny again, I’m going to leave you in the desert for the coyotes to eat at night.”
I say nothing, letting him lead me back to the car. He places me in the passenger’s seat and comes back around the car, cursing under his breath. He’s frustrated that things haven’t gone his way, but I’m in the same boat as he is, or at least I think I am. I have no idea why he is running from the cartel in the first place.
“I’m still hungry,” Devin says as he puts the red Mustang into drive.
Chapter Seven
“Are you just going to eat apples all day?” Devin asks as I silently crunch into my third apple.
“Maybe,” I say defensively, glaring at him.
“You know,” he says, looking back and forth between me and the road, “You don’t have to be so uppity about all this. I’m going to let you go at the border. Try to enjoy yourself.”
I scoff at him. “I’m not enjoying almost getting killed by the cartel.”
He smiles. “I got rid of them, though. Pretty good shooting if you ask me.”
I shake my head and swallow. “And what happens when the cops come and find a bunch of dead people on the road? They’re going to come after you.”
“Nobody saw me,” Devin replies.
“I saw you,” I point out, but then I realize that maybe I shouldn’t have said that.
Devin glances over at me. “You’re lucky I don’t like killing innocent people. I don’t really like killing anyone, as a matter of fact.”
“Are you listening to yourself?” I ask, leaning forward in my seat. “You just killed at least two people back there.”
Devin shakes his head. “You don’t know what it’s like down there in the cartel. I’ve been dealing with these people long enough not to care whether they die. In fact, it’s probably better if they do.”
“I wouldn’t wish death on anyone,” I say, crossing my arms.
“That’s easy for you to say when you’ve spent your whole like sheltered from the real world,” he replies, a tinge of bitterness in his voice, like the rind of an orange.
“Texas is part of the real world. I just don’t around killing people like that,” I say, but I know he has a point. Texas is pretty cushy compared to some parts of the world.
“You wouldn’t understand my reasons, and I would prefer it if you didn’t ask about them. Just know that everything I do is for a very good reason,” Devin replies.
“I doubt it,” I say, gauging his reaction. I’m getting him worked up again, and he’s not good at managing his anger, but this is all a tactic for me to pull information out of him. I would feel more comfortable knowing why he’s on the run.
Devin’s hands wring the steering wheel like a wet washcloth, his knuckles white from the pressure. “I’m not going to tell you anything, Marybeth, so stop asking.”
“Fine,” I reply, lifting the apple in my hand to my teeth and chomping out a large bite from it.
After a moment of silence, Devin speaks again. “I’m going to need you to stay put while I go through the drive-through. I’m going to pull off in a moment.”
“Why should I?” I ask, wondering how he would keep me in the car when we get to somewhere where there are other civilians.
He looks at me, shaking his head for what seems like the hundredth time. “Because I’m not going to give you a choice.”
I scoff at him. “Try me.”
Devin pulls the car over on the side of the road. “Sure.”
I look at him, a bit worried as to what he will do. He’s making direct eye contact with me, and his crystal-blue eyes are alive with energy. He has something planned for me, but I’m not sure what.
“Give me your hands,” Devin says.
I shake my head. “I’m eating.”
He slaps the apple out of my hand. His movement is hard and tough like he’s going to hurt me if I don’t listen to him. “Give me your hands,” he repeats, his voice deep and guttural.
I don’t argue with him this time. It’s too dangerous. After seeing him kill the cartel members before, I don’t want to push him, especially not when he’s angry. I hate submitting to men who bully women, but there’s really nothing I can do to defend myself right now. I just have to go with it.
Devin pulls a cord from under his seat, slapping it over my wrists hard enough for it to sting, then wraps it around too tightly to be comfortable.
“Ouch, that’s too tight,” I say, jerking my hands away.
Devin yanks me back, ignoring my cries and continues to wrap up my hands, making sure that I can’t use them at all. He wraps the cord around as many times as it will go, then ties it in a triple knot to keep it secure.
I look down at my hands, then back up at him, genuinely afraid again. “What are you doing?” I ask, trying to keep my voice from trembling.
“Keeping you quiet while I get my dinner,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Me?”
Devin laughs. “You’re cute, Marybeth, but I’m not a cannibal.”
I should have had to ask, but I can’t be sure of anything anymore. “So, what are you doing?”
“I’m just going to keep you nice and secure while I get some food, okay?” Devin replies, reaching down and pulling the release switch for the trunk.
I know what he’s going to do now, and the panic starts to set in again. I don’t believe that my life is in danger, but it doesn’t have to be for me to freak out. I’m claustrophobic, and I don’t take kindly to being crammed into strangers’ trunks.
“Please don’t put me into the trunk,” I beg.
“Too late,” Devin says, opening his door and yanking me across the center console.
“Please! You don’t understand,” I say, trying to explain things to him. I won’t be able to handle being shut in the dark for so long. It will remind me of my mother.
“You had your chance to behave,” Devin replies, dragging me across the pavement to the back of the car. “Just don’t mess with anything back there, okay?”
“I don’t want to go,” I shriek, trying to pull away. My heart is beating so fast in anticipation of being locked in the trunk that I start to feel light-headed. This always happens. I will start to hyperventilate, and then I might pass out. It won’t be the first time this has happened.
Devin keeps a firm grip on me, not letting me get away from my fate. He leads me to the trunk and examines the interior. There isn’t much room inside, but I’ll fit. I see the rifle that he used before, a large crate, and a black bag.
