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I gritted my teeth. “I’m going to have to.”
If I turned my head toward her, I could place my nose and mouth against the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her shampoo, which, from the current fragrance, I took to be coconut. The scent and proximity of her did strange things to my insides, and for a moment I forgot about the pain in my leg.
She took me into the kitchen and helped me sit on a stool. I noticed a couple of used mugs sitting beside the sink—the remains of the visit from the deputy. Vee found a packet of painkillers, which she threw to me, and then poured me a glass of water. I knocked back three of them, looking forward to the relief they would eventually bring me. I’d been in pain for hours, and I needed a break.
“Hey, can I use your bathroom?” I asked.
She nodded. “It’s the third door on the right, down the hall.”
She moved to help me up, but I waved her away. I didn’t need help taking a piss. I made my way down to the bathroom, using the wall to steady myself. I passed over the spot where she’d stabbed me, and where I’d shot the two other men. She had made a good effort to clean up the blood, though I could still see a dark patch in the threadbare pile.
I used the bathroom, checking out my injuries quickly to make sure I wasn’t about to die anytime soon, and washed off some of the blood. Knowing she’d be getting anxious, I made my way back to where she paced up and down the hallway, waiting for me.
“Is there anything here of importance that you want to grab?” I asked her, knowing we couldn’t hang out here for long.
“Yeah. I have our original birth certificates, and some photographs of my mom. I’m not supposed to have them, but I grabbed them when the U.S. Marshals showed up the day they took us into the Witness Protection Program. I guess I couldn’t bring myself to let go of who I was completely. Oh, and there’s another thing I want, too.”
“Okay, be quick.”
She vanished around the corner and down the hallway toward the bedroom. I went back into the kitchen to perch on the stool while I waited.
I could go now, if I wanted. I could take off out the front door, steal her car, and make my getaway, but I didn’t want to leave her alone.
I couldn’t leave her alone.
She appeared in the doorway, clutching a small metal tin with a locked code on it like you’d find in a briefcase. In her other hand was a rucksack.
“What’s in the bag?” I asked, nodding toward it.
“Change of clothes for me, and for Nickie, for when I get her back. And a teddy that she’s had since she was born. I couldn’t leave Mister Snuggles behind. Our mom gave it to her, and she always sleeps with it.” Her cheeks pinked at the revelation, as though she’d told me she was the one who still slept with a childhood toy. I was tempted to tease her about it, but we were running out of time and I didn’t want the wrong people to find us sitting here, unprepared.
“Oh,” she said, as though she’d forgotten something, and then she reached into the bag and pulled out the two handguns she’d taken off the dead men. “And I’ve got these two, of course.”
That dangerous glint was back in her eye, and I couldn’t help but smile at her. I didn’t know why I had expected any less. “Then we’re good to go.”
We left the house the same way I had entered—through the back door.
“This way,” I told her, guiding her through the back yard. I favored my uninjured leg, so I walked with a lurch, but there was nothing I could do about it. I walked toward the clump of bushes where I’d hidden the previous night, and Vee followed, staying close to my shoulder. She would have been able to move a lot faster without me, but I was the only one who knew where my car was parked.
I pushed through the bushes and out onto the street on the other side, reaching back to take Vee’s hand and help her through the final part. She emerged with twigs in her hair, clutching her bag to her shoulder.
“You want me to take that?” I offered.
She lifted her eyebrows and tugged her hand from mine. “I’ve got it, thanks.”
I guessed I couldn’t be too surprised that she didn’t want me to carry the bag with all the guns.
“Which way?” she asked, glancing around. She looked suspicious, and someone who looked suspicious always caught the eye of others.
“You need to relax,” I told her. “Chill. We need to look like we belong here or we’re going to stick out, especially considering the state of my clothes and that I have tape wrapped around my arm and leg.” It was true. I looked a mess. It was a good thing I always wore black—both the blood and the tape were camouflaged against the dark material.
It was late afternoon, but there were still people around—the townsfolk heading home after a long day at work or school.
“Yes, you’re right,” she said, plastering a smile across her face and loosely linking her arm through mine. I knew the gesture must have been hard for her to do, but I liked that she’d used her initiative to make us appear like a regular couple just walking down the street instead of a couple of fugitives. I also appreciated having her body pressed so close to mine, the warmth of her skin seeping through my shirt. I tried hard to imagine this life we were currently faking—being a normal person in a normal relationship, taking a stroll down the street, but I couldn’t picture it. I’d always been an outcast. The only way I knew how to fit in was by pretending, just like I was doing now.
“How much farther?” she asked.
“Another block from here.”
