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Mikhail looks down at me, his jaw tight, his eyes searing into me. I know what he’s thinking without having to ask.
“I won’t make a run for it.”
His lip twitches. “I never said you would.”
“You didn’t have to.”
The gas station is deserted except for one employee sitting behind the glass window. The road is empty. Maybe that’s why I feel comfortable stepping forward and throwing my arms around him, standing on my tiptoes and leaning so close I can feel his warm breath on my face. “I don’t want to run away from you.”
Even if, maybe, I should. Even if falling for the Sokolov spare was never part of the plan.
“You risked your life to save a stranger,” he says. “You’re a good, pure person, Mila.”
“Uh … thanks?”
“What I’m saying is …” He gives me a quick but extremely hot kiss. “… you’ve got every reason to want to run.”
“Trust me,” I tell him. “I won’t be long.”
“Meet back here, then,” he says, kissing me again.
When he walks away, it’s with that tight, almost angry posture. I know he’s thinking about returning to the bike and finding me gone, but he’s giving me the benefit of the doubt. He’s trusting me, and that means a lot.
I go to the restroom, which isn’t as gross as I feared. After laying a bunch of toilet tissue on the seat—I may not want tobe a princess, but this is fair, I think—I sit down and get to my business.
I’m flushing the toilet when a man’s low, weirdly aggressive voice comes from the main part of the restroom. This is the ladies’ room, so hearing the voice instantly has me on alert.
“Anyone in here?” he grunts. “Cleaning staff. Announce yourself!”
Reminding myself that he’s probably just a guy sick of his job, I reply, “Yeah, I’m in here. I’m coming out now.”
He sighs heavily as though this is the biggest inconvenience he can imagine. When I walk out of the stall, he’s leaning against the sink, his fist wrapped around the wooden handle of his mop. If I had to guess, he’s around thirty: tall, wide, and slightly overweight. Heck, not that I’m judging.
When habit takes me to the sink, he snaps, “Really? JesusChrist.”
I turn away from the sink on instinct, just like when Dad snaps something at me, just like all my life, when aggression has meant swallowing what I want, what I need, my feelings, my desires, and puttinghisfirst. So I turn back to the sink and start washing my hands, taking my time about it. When I walk over to the hand dryer, he grunts, “Ha, ha, ha, got a comediennehere, folks.”
“Who are you talking to?” I snap, making for the door. “The only people that find you interesting? The people in your head?”
I walk toward the exit, but he suddenly darts into my path. I’m rethinking my smart words as he leans over me, his eyes narrowed. He looks exhausted and angry and ready for something to happen. “Missy, that ain’t a very intelligent thingto say now, is it? For all you know, my wife left me last week. For all you know, some uppity bitch like you put a bunch of foolish notions into her head. For allyouknow, I could be looking for a chance to make this right. I could just be waiting, waiting, waiting for my shot. Is that what you want to be, girl? Do you want to be myshot?”
Glaring at him, I try to persuade the fear to leave me the hell alone. But it twists through me, trying to close my throat with nerves. The sleeplessness helps me, I think, and so does the fact I’m just sick and tired of this crap.
“You can take your shot,” I tell him. “But just know, the second you try any crap, I’ll scream, and my boyfriend will be in here likethat.”
When I snap my fingers, the man snorts. “Missy, I’ve tousled too often in my life to give a single hot dang about a thing like that. I’m too damn tired, and you’ve been too damn rude.”
“You were the one rushing me for no reason!”
“I got twenty of these shitters to hit before noon. No reason? You on crack or something?”
“Just let me go,” I snap.
He moves into my path with a cruel, familiar smirk. If he had wave upon wave of sweat dripping down his face, he’d look exactly like my father. “Not until you apologize. Too many folks these days think they can go anywhere they want, saying any damned thing to any damned person they want. Not anymore.”
“I’ve got nothing to apologize for,” I say, relieved when my voice doesn’t shake.
“Then we’ll be here for a while unless you’re gonna scream.”
