by Tate, Harley
She tried to coax him into conversation. “Any details?”
John’s jaw ticked. “I was in the Marines. I’m not anymore.”
Emma turned to stare out the window. The last vestiges of daylight faded fast, sunset marred by the lingering smoke. Not a single car had moved. If this traffic stretched for miles, it might take days to clear. They couldn’t sit here and wait it out. She twisted back to face him. “We could do what that truck did. Not crash into a bunch of cars but off-road, couldn’t we? It might get us up to Gloria’s faster.”
John didn’t say anything for a moment, but the way the muscles in his face twitched, he obviously wanted to do anything except sit there and engage in conversation. “Are you a mechanic?”
“No.”
“Any spare timing belts in your work bag?”
Her cheeks warmed. “No.”
“Then we’re not taking this vehicle anywhere.”
She steeled herself. “We could walk.”
John leaned over and glanced at the setting sun. “It’ll be dark soon. With the cloud cover, I wouldn’t count on much moonlight. Ever land nav’ed at night?”
She shook her head.
Holly spoke up from the backseat. “Tank’s been through a lot already. I think we stay overnight. Set out in the morning.”
Emma twisted in the seat. “Tank?”
Holly nodded. “That’s what his collar says, anyway.” The dog reacted at the use of his name, nuzzling Holly’s side until she laughed.
Relief coursed through Emma. At least Holly found something to pay attention to other than her father’s death, even if the dog was too big for the backseat and smelled like it rolled in garbage. She turned back to John. “I guess staying put for a few hours wouldn’t hurt.”
Her stomach growled and Emma slapped her hand across her belly. “Maybe we could raid the supplies?”
John opened his door. “I’ll see what we have.”
Before Emma could offer to help, the driver side door slammed shut.
Holly leaned forward between the seats. “Don’t mind him. He’s just mad about the dog. Probably doesn’t want his fur all over the seat.”
Doubt kept her from entirely agreeing, but Emma smiled all the same. “I’m sure you’re right.”
Chapter Twelve
John
John shut the door and sucked in a breath. He had to get it together. Never in all of his years as a hired gun had he spent this much time with a mark. If he led her off into the woods, took the shot, and left Holly and Tank with the ruined Jeep, he could try to find Sanchez on his own. It would take longer, and he might fail, but she’d be dead and gone.
Out of his head and his passenger seat.
He clenched his fists. This was why he had no personal relationships, no friends. Nothing except the job.
The best course of action was to play along, keep her on his side, and let her lead him straight to the next target. Two birds with one stone. But the longer he spent with Emma and Holly… He cursed. Opening up like that? Telling her about Afghanistan? The only people who knew about that were either dead or current coworkers in the same lethal profession.
He ran a hand down his face. He’d have to share when she asked and stop shutting her out or she’d grow suspicious. It’s what people did during downtime. But he had to find a way to keep from liking these women. No matter what.
He yanked open the tailgate and rooted through the food, pulling out sandwich fixings and a few drinks. With his lips propped up in a smile, he tugged open the driver’s door. “Lucky for us, these were tucked in the cooler.” He held up a pair of beers as he clambered inside with a bag full of food.
Holly spoke up from the back. “Might want to do a taste test. Those are left over from a party months ago. My dad’s not—” She stalled. “Wasn’t much of a drinker.”
Emma reached for a beer with a smile. “Don’t mind if I do.”
John pulled out a package of lunch meat and cheese. Tank nosed his way between the front seats and John frowned.
“Tank, no!” Holly scrambled after him, pulling on his harness. “I think he’s hungry.”
John rummaged around in the bag. “Lucky for him, there’s some questionable leftovers in here.” He pulled out a plastic container of chicken and potatoes, taking off the lid before handing it back to Holly. It took the German shepherd all of thirty seconds to inhale the contents.
Emma laughed. “I guess he doesn’t mind eating suspect food.”
After Tank licked the container clean, he nuzzled John in the shoulder. John smiled despite himself. Maybe the dog wasn’t all bad. It would be good for Holly to have a companion, especially after he ditched her somehow. He flicked his eyes up to the rearview and watched the girl eat a chip before reaching into the bag and handing one to the dog.
He hated to drop her like a stone, but he had a job to do and Emma was it. Letting her walk away wasn’t an option. Not completing a job would terminate his employment—probably terminate him as well. And Emma? She would die anyway.
They finished eating in silence, Emma snarfing two sandwiches, the beer, and a bag of chips before slowing down. John shifted in the seat. “We might as well sleep when we can.”
Holly handed pillows and blankets up from the back. “Thanks for packing these.” Sadness tinged her voice, but John tried to ignore it.
He turned to Emma. “You should get some sleep.”
“And leave you all alone?” She glanced at her watch. “Besides, it’s early. I couldn’t go to sleep now if I tried.”
John turned and stared out the window as Holly fluffed a blanket and curled up against the door. Tank snuggled up beside her, resting his head on her thigh.
After a few minutes, Emma spoke softly. “Do you think she can stay with me?”
“Excuse me?” He turned to see Holly and Tank asleep in the back.
“Do you think family services would let Holly stay with me? Or would she have to go into the foster system?”
John snorted. “If I were her, I’d rather be on the streets than in foster care.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “How could you say something like that?”
He smiled, but it wasn’t joyful. “Because I was in foster care from age five on, and I got out as soon as I could.”
Emma leaned back against the seat. “That awful?”
“Ten homes in nine years. Some were okay. Some not.” He suppressed a shudder. “Only one cared more about me than the state paycheck.”
“Who?”
“Mrs. Duncan. Widow with no kids of her own. She would’ve adopted me if she could.” This time, he smiled for real. “Made the best apple pie.”
“Why didn’t you stay with her?”
John exhaled. “Because when I was eleven, she dropped dead of a heart attack walking from the kitchen table to the sink.” He shifted in the seat. “It was pretty much all downhill from there.”
“So, the military?”
“Only place besides prison I could get three square meals, a roof over my head most of the time, and a bed.”
Emma picked at her nails.
“Don’t pity me. I made my own choices.”
“What choices did you have when you were little?”
He parroted words he’d said a million times. “I am who I choose to be.” For once, he wasn’t sure that was entirely true.
“So how did you get from the military to financial audits? Seems like a leap.”
John made a show of looking at his watch. “You really should get some sleep now. One of us is going to have to stay awake and keep an eye out. People could be enterprising in the night.”
Emma glanced around as if startled. “What do you mean?”
“We’re kind of sitting ducks here if you hadn’t noticed. We have a bunch of food in the back. Car is obviously damaged. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone doesn’t try to break in.”
“We need to be on watch?” Emma stared wide-eyed as he nodded.
�
�I’ll take the first shift and wake you up around one.”
Emma didn’t waste any more time. Using the pillow Holly passed up from the back, she made herself as comfortable as possible in the passenger seat. “Wake me up if anything happens.”
He nodded, watching as she closed her eyes. He cursed himself again for letting her get under his skin. Up until now, he’d been scrupulous, keeping his prior jobs a name and a face and nothing more. An anonymous other he could snuff out with no remorse, no regret.
A mark in Bolivia with more money than brains had been his most recent hit. Shot him square between the eyes while he stood buck naked, about to jump into his swimming pool. Before that? Some were obviously bad. The drug dealer in Tijuana. The pedophile with a little black book. But others…
That banker in New York. The journalist in San Jose. They were ordinary people living ordinary lives until John came along. His stomach soured. What he used to think was the perfect job maybe wasn’t so perfect after all.
Something cold and wet smeared across his hand and John looked down to find Tank standing between the seats. He scratched the dog between the ears. “Yeah, I need some air, too, buddy.”
He opened the door, stepped out, and Tank scrambled after. As the German shepherd disappeared into the dark, John shut the door and leaned against the side of the SUV. After a few minutes, Tank came loping back to sit beside him.
John stared out at the darkness, eyes open, saying nothing until he couldn’t take it anymore. “Sorry I was willing to leave you. It was wrong.” He gave the dog another scratch. Tank leaned in and nuzzled his hand. John smiled.
John handed Emma a bottle of water as she yawned and stretched. “Good morning, sunshine.”
“What time is it?” The first rays of sun filtered through the windshield as Emma squinted at her watch. “Oh my gosh! John! You said you would wake me up at one.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” Tank stuck his snout between the seats and John gave his head a scratch. “And I think this guy would’ve let us know if someone was snooping.”
Emma stared. Holly leaned forward and gave Tank a good belly rub. The dog hopped off the console and back into the backseat. “Who’s a good dog? You’re a good dog. Yes, you are.” She ruffled the fur along his neck and Tank leaned into Holly. She smiled up at John. “I knew you wouldn’t be mad. It just took you a little while to warm up.”
John grudgingly agreed. “I admit he’s useful.” He gave the dog another pat. He’d needed the night to collect his thoughts and plan a way out of this morass he’d fallen into. Tank had been by his side throughout the night, keeping him company and keeping him sane.
It all hinged around reaching Sanchez. He could still complete the mission. Still do the job. Emma just had to lead him there. Everything else would work out. Somehow.
Holly pointed at the cars still clogging the road. “I can’t believe everyone is still here.”
She had a point. Not a single car had moved. People didn’t adapt well to change. John motioned toward the back. “We should load up as much food as possible. Leave the rest.”
Emma picked up her dress shoes from the floorboard and waggled them in the air. “Any chance we can walk to my place? It’s a bit out-of-the-way, but—”
He cut her off. “We can’t be far from a business area. We can find a store and pick you up some shoes.”
“He’s a bit bossy, but he’s all right.” Holly said the words loud enough for John to hear as she rubbed Tank’s fur. The dog thumped his tail against the seat and John smiled until he caught himself.
This job was getting harder by the minute. He opened the door and set about gathering food and supplies, shoving as much as possible into his messenger bag. Emma repurposed the backpack cooler, tossing out the warm ice packs and filling it with shelf-stable options. Holly did the same with her duffel, leaving a few items of clothing and a pair of boots behind.
After a quick breakfast, they headed north beside the highway. It didn’t take long for them to fall into a rhythm, with Holly talking about high school and her favorite actors and bands and Emma listening. Tank wove between them all, while John stayed silent.
In a conversation lull, John pointed ahead. “First exit, we’ll head into town and hopefully get lucky.”
Both women nodded before veering off into a debate about some book he’d never heard of. John pulled out his phone and typed in the password. Only one message.
He clicked it. Confirmed. Sanchez is necessary.
“Do you have a signal?” Emma leaned closer.
John turned the phone off and slipped it back into his pocket. “No, I was just checking. There should be cell towers pretty frequently. I thought one might still be operational, you never know.”
Emma seemed satisfied, and after a moment, turned back to Holly. He would have to be more careful. She didn’t miss much. An exit sign loomed ahead, listing half a dozen food options and just as many gas stations. “Looks like we’re coming up on a solid business area. With any luck, there will be a store with shoes.”
Encouraged, Emma tried to pick up the pace as they walked down the exit ramp and away from the endless line of parked cars.
The first gas station stood dark and empty on the corner. The second as well. No lights in McDonalds or Wendy’s. John adjusted his bag. So much for options. If nothing was open…
“Look up there,” Holly offered. “All those cars in the lot. Something has to be open.”
John squinted against the morning sun. She was right. Up ahead, at least twenty cars filled a small parking lot with a few lining the street queuing to turn in. He couldn’t make out the sign.
Holly craned her head forward. “R-Ritchie’s Sporting Goods.” She clasped her hands together in excitement and turned to Emma. “They’ll have shoes for sure.”
“It looks like a madhouse.” Emma cast a wary glance John’s way. “Are we sure that’s the best option?”
“So far, it’s the only option.” John sped up, pleased to have something to focus on besides his unfinished assignment.
As they approached the door, a man with a clipboard propped on his belly held up a pen. “Morning, morning. Whatcha fine folks here for?”
Emma took a step forward. “Shoes and socks.”
He ran his pen down a list where every other item was slashed with a red line. “Looks like you’re in luck. Now if you need heaters, propane, freeze-dried food, any of that, forget it. All cleared out as soon as we opened this morning.”
John raised an eyebrow. “Already?”
“Yes, sir. First thing.” He glanced at Tank standing beside Holly and let out a low whistle. “He sure is handsome, but no dogs allowed, I’m afraid.”
Holly began to protest, but John held up his hand. They didn’t need a scene. “Understood.” He turned to Holly. “Can you stay out here with Tank?”
Emma cut him a glance. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
Tank stood tall and alert, as if already knowing his role. “I think Tank’s got it covered.” He bent down to the dog. “You’re in charge, understood? You keep her safe until we get back.”
Tank sat beside Holly, head swiveling as he watched the road. Good dog. John stood. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter Thirteen
Emma
The second the door to the small sporting goods store opened, Emma’s stomach lurched. People milled like frantic ants, carrying six times their body weight in coolers, sleeping bags, and everything else not nailed down. She leaned toward John. “Maybe we should go.”
“Nonsense. We’re here now. We’ll get you some shoes and we’ll get out.”
Emma sucked in a breath. I can do this. She scanned the signs hanging above the aisles, searching for footwear. John found it first.
His fingers slipped around her arm just above the elbow and he steered her toward the aisle. “Stick close to me. This could get dicey.”
“Get your hands off my deep fryer!” A woman in sweatpants and a fuzzy sweater c
overed in hearts cursed like a sailor as she yelled. She held onto the sides of a stainless steel deep fryer so hard her knuckles turned white. “It’s mine!”
“Is not! I saw it first.” A man in his sixties, Emma guessed, with a grizzled beard and caterpillar eyebrows, refused to budge. He gripped the other end of the deep fryer with both hands. “It don’t matter if you saw it first, I touched it first.” He widened his stance. “Seeing as how I’m bigger, I’m just gonna take it.” The man yanked on the fryer and the woman stumbled forward, fingers still curled around the lip.
“Oww! You’re hurting me!”
“Then let go, you stupid cow.”
John eased around the fighting pair, pulling Emma with him.
“Shouldn’t we do something?” Emma cast a wary glance at the older man as she scooted past them. “She’s going to get hurt.”
John dropped his voice to a whisper. “Not if you value your health and safety. That fight’s no business of ours.”
While John had a point, it didn’t sit well with Emma. Surely the pair could be reasoned with. But before she could come up with anything to say, John had steered her clear out of the aisle. A man burst by, half jogging with an arm full of stadium blankets, and the wool scraped across Emma’s face. What on Earth?
People were acting like it was the end of the world. She thought about the conversation out in the road and unease pricked her skin.
“They’re just over here.” John pointed at a display on the far wall. Where new shoes used to line tidy shelves, only a few castoffs remained.
Emma’s shoulders sagged. “We’re too late.”
“You don’t know that.”
She crouched in front of the ransacked shoe display and picked through the boxes. Too small, too big, missing one. John stood like a sentry, hands clasped in front of him, feet shoulder width apart. “You know, you could come down here and help me. It would probably go faster.”
He spoke without turning his head. “You’d rather I kept watch, believe me.”
