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He grabbed me by my jaw, tilting my head up towards him. "Goddamn. Your hair, it's... Fuck, it's too noticeable."
"It's all I have left. I'm not destroying it."
"Fine." His grunt was tinted with frustration as he pulled out his cell phone, thumbs flying over the screen. "I'll find a place to stash the Audi. It sticks out like a sore thumb."
"Makes sense. I'm hungry." My stomach growled angrily.
"We can go to that store a bit down the way. Doesn't seem like they'd have cams. This is a shithole."
It was a short drive, filled with silence. The bell above the door jangled, startling the cashier. Seems like no one really came here judging by the cobwebs that hung in the corner. Aisle by aisle, we gathered items to morph into anyone but ourselves. Chris reached for a pair of aviator sunglasses, placing them against my face.
"Hide those pretty brown eyes of yours," he murmured, his voice a low rumble in my ear.
I flinched, not from fear, but the electric charge his proximity always ignited. Clothes were next—plain tees and jeans that would swallow up our identities. Chris found a baseball cap and shoved it onto his head, shadowing his features before pulling one over my head.
"Helps if you keep your head down," he instructed, tilting the brim to obscure more of his face. "Act like you don't give a shit."
"Got it," I mumbled, my own cap pulled low.
"Grab some of that," he muttered, nodding toward the stack of instant noodles. "Cheap and it'll keep your stomach from growling."
"Right." Grabbing a few, along with some granola bars and water bottles, my hands were full.
We piled our selections on the counter, the cashier's dead-eyed stare gave me the creeps. Once we were done, we drove back to the motel.
Back at our sanctuary of desperation, the items spilled across the bed. Chris stood over them, hands on his hips, his tattoos peeking from beneath his rolled-up sleeves.
"Try these on," he said, tossing a shirt and jeans my way.
His coarse command sent a shiver down my spine. Stripping down, I reveled in the brief freedom, the cool air kissing my skin before I slipped into the new identity. The clothes hung loose, hiding the curves he'd claimed with rough hands and hungry eyes.
"Better," he growled, appraising me with a flare of approval in his gaze. "No one's gonna look twice at you now."
"Lovely." I straightened, finding strength in my reflection—a woman unrecognizable, ready to disappear into the night.
I sprawled onto the edge of the bed, its springs creaking an objection beneath my weight. This was going to be a shitty sleep.
"Here." He tossed an apple my way, its skin waxen and soft. "Eat."
"Thanks." It was old. Stale. Any semblance of the delicious crunch that once was, had long given way to early stages of decay. Chris watched, leaning against the peeling wallpaper, arms folded across his chest.
"Go to bed," he said. "We need to get a new vehicle and plot out a new safe house. We can't stay here."
"Got it." I nodded, trying not to check him out and ignoring the throb between my legs.
He busied himself with checking the locks again, the windows, casting intermittent glances my way as if to assure himself I hadn't vanished into thin air.
"Sleep." His command brooked no argument, but it was tinged with a protectiveness that made my heart stumble.
"Fine," I curled up beneath the scratchy blanket, craving the oblivion it promised. I closed my eyes, listening to the footsteps of Chris moving around the room.
I drifted on the edge of consciousness, the barrier between reality and nightmares. And then there was silence. A stillness that settled over me, pulling me into a restless sleep.
The neon buzz of the motel sign flickered outside, casting a sordid glow through the threadbare curtains. Chris stood near the edge of the bed, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the dim light. The room was steeped in shadows, yet my eyes had adjusted to every contour of his form. I'd gotten up to pee when I saw him.
"Fuck," he muttered, the word gruff and laden with something more than irritation.
"Chris?" I whispered, as I moved to stand beside him. I watched him strip off his shirt, revealing his perfect body. His movements were deliberate, concise as he tossed his shirt to the floor.
