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“Just drive to the bar. It’s on the outskirts of town.”
“Yeah,” he nodded, “I know where it is.”
I rolled my eyes, unable to stop myself. “Of course you do.”
X took a couple of random turns, I guessed to try to make it harder for the police to follow us. The deputy would have had to turn around and run back to the patrol car, get in, start the ignition and chase after us, by which time we’d have put a decent distance between us and him. The bar was in the opposite direction of which we were headed, so as soon as X had put enough distance between us and the deputy, he turned east, and then back south. I hoped it would help put the cop off the scent as well. I imagined he’d think we would try to head straight out of town, rather than doubling back on ourselves and remaining in town.
The bar was located on the outskirts, thank God, and we were lucky enough not to see any sign of more cops. I knew the bar would be one of the places the deputy would think to send people looking for me, though I also suspected he would be busy searching the house and most likely getting onto the phone with whoever he’d been spying on me for. Maybe I’d gotten him all wrong, and he was just doing his job, but I didn’t trust anyone. I still stayed on high alert for any sign of the cops coming after us.
“No one is following us,” said X.
“Not right this second, they’re not, but they will be soon.”
He couldn’t argue with me on that front.
X knew exactly where he was going to get to the bar—didn’t even ask which bar I was talking about, what the name or address was. Had he seen me working there? Been watching me? The thought sent chills rippling through me. Had I seen him while I was working, and not clocked the threat in his eyes?
No, I was fairly sure I’d have remembered if I’d seen him. He was striking to look at, and he exuded danger. But then I guessed it was part of his job to go unnoticed.
“Did you ever come here?” I asked him, glancing over at his profile as he drove. “The bar, I mean?”
He glanced back, our eyes meeting, and then nodded. “Yes, last night. I was here when you came out on your break.”
Realization pinged inside me. “The alleyway. I remember hearing something, feeling like someone was there, but then a guy from the bar came out …”
I trailed off as fresh understanding sank in. “You saw me threaten him.”
He chuckled. “I knew you were going to be interesting there and then. Of course, I hadn’t figured out just how interesting.”
I wasn’t sure if I should be taking that as a compliment or if he was having a dig about me stabbing him.
“And then you followed me home,” I said, trying to piece together his movements.
“I didn’t follow you, exactly. I already knew where you lived. I was waiting in the bushes, but saw you fighting with your sister when you got home. I waited outside until I thought you were asleep, except then those other guys showed up, and well,” he gave a shrug, “you know the rest.”
“I heard you outside,” I said. “I remember feeling like someone was watching me again, and pulling the blind in the window.”
He nodded. “Yeah, it was strange because I don’t think you could have heard me. But you sensed me, somehow. A part of you knew I was out there.”
“I have good instincts,” I said.
“I’ve guessed. And what do your instincts say about me?”
That we’re made up of the same broken souls …
I didn’t know how to answer the question, so I was relieved when the turn for the bar came up on the right side. “This is the one,” I told him, even though he already knew.
Knowing the police would be looking for this vehicle, X drove it straight across the dusty parking lot and down the back alley, where the industrial trash cans were kept, and where I’d come out for my break the previous night. He pulled the car up right next to the wall, I guessed figuring it would be less noticeable from the main road there. He climbed out of the driver’s side, but I was unable to even get the passenger door open and so grabbed the bag with the guns and clambered over the seat after him.
“What do we do if he says no?” X asked me. “Do we get violent?”
“He won’t say no, but we’ll do whatever needs to be done. I don’t want him killed, though, okay?”
X gave a brisk nod.
I led the way, and we entered the bar through the rear exit and through the seriously under-used kitchen, which acted more as an extra store room than anything else—cases of bottle beer stacked several high, boxes of potato chips, a mop and bucket.
Voices came from out front. I’d been hoping the bar would be empty, but it didn’t look like things were going to go my way on this one.
