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“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it. “But I need to go inside and get some food for the road and fill up on water.” I nod to the water station.
“We’re all out of water.” He winces. “But there’s a truck stop about an hour that way on the I-90 that has a water station. It’s nothing fancy, but they have a bigger facility than us,” he suggests.
Shit,I sigh with a frown. My eyes flick to my rearview mirror, but the only thing I see is the black curtain.
“Okay, I’ll fill up on gas and grab food.” I rub the back of my neck. This is not what I had planned for tonight, but we need to get out of here one way or another.
“I’ll sort the gas. You go see Judy about the food.” He smiles.
The car at the pump moves, so Duke waves me on before moving to speak to the car behind us.
I climb out of my seat and pop into the back. “I’m going in to pay and get food. The RV will be locked.” Walking over, I reach down and hook my thumbs in my belt. “Do you need to go into the bedroom?”
Lulu starts shaking her head before I’ve even finished my veiled threat.
“I’ll be good,” she promises, her eyes wide.
I check Mary is sleeping with a glance before leaning down to grip Lulu’s chin. “You better. Otherwise, the beating I gave your ass earlier will feel like foreplay.”
She flushes at my words, but I’m not done.
“Although by how wet and ready your virgin pussy had been, it was foreplay.” I’m being an asshole, but I want her ashamed and scared. Whatever it takes to make her stay. I get exactly what I want.
Shame floods her face, and the sight thrills me. My right hand drops from my belt, adjusting my erection.
When we get to the truck stop,I reassure myself.
I release her chin and head to the door, keys in hand, ready to lock my girls in.
“There you are,” Duke calls, joining me at the pump.
I press the lock on my key, locking the driver and passenger door. The old man smiles when he hears it.
“She’ll be just fine. I’ll be out here, and no one is getting past me.”
I nod, appreciating his words, but I won’t settle until we’re officially out of this town.
My heart is in my throat by the time I’m back in the RV and heading to the roadblock. I can hear Lulu moving around in the back, putting away the few groceries I got.
Fuck, my brow breaks out in sweat the closer the queue gets. It’s about a mile long and not moving very quickly. There’s no avoiding the blocks set up. Judy was chatting with another customer. Apparently, this queue is the shortest, but the sheriff is why we’re here. He better come through.
He does.
My hands are shaking and my breathing short by the time McCallister steps out into the road on the opposite side. His torch flashes as his other hand waves.
I take a deep breath and pray to whoever is listening before pulling out of traffic and heading straight for him.
McCallister motions for me to lower my window, and I do with a smile plastered on my face.
“This one’s clean. Let them through, Garcia,” he orders into his radio. “Thanks for visiting Cromwell.”
I nod my thanks and drive on, giving a small wave out the window as I pass Garcia. My heart hammers painfully and doesn’t stop until we’re about fortyminutes out of Cromwell. We joined the I-90 about thirty minutes ago.
My brain tells me to continue. We can fill up and restock in another town, but another part of me is hard and excited. The thrill of the night is too much to ignore. That part of me wins. A road sign tells me we’re close to Cataldo; we can be out of Idaho by midday tomorrow.
It’s stupid and irrational, but my hands have a mind of their own as I pull off the interstate. Big trucks litter the parking lot, some closed down and locked up for a good night’s sleep while others stand around chatting. It’s mostly men, but a few women who are clearly working girls mingle with them.
Heading toward the back, away from sound and witnesses, I park next to a truck with Cromwell Logging written on the hood.
