Page 48 of Savage Surrender

Hands-on.

12

BIANCA

Owen turns into the airport’s long-term garage without slowing, takes us up three levels, then chooses a spot between a minivan with two car seats and an SUV crusted in old salt.

The engine dies, and a plane drags itself into the sky, close enough that the sound vibrates through the walls. The alphas, to say the least, are on full alert.

“Everybody out,” Weller says. “We’re going to split into two groups and walk a few miles to the tourist shops.”

Owen’s hand tightens on the wheel. “I don’t like leaving the car.”

And I get it. It’s currently our only method of getting away quickly, but we need to scatter our movements and make it harder to trace us.

“You don’t like leaving anything you can use as a weapon,” Tristan murmurs.

“I could use you as a weapon.”

“Then you’d ruin my hair.”

“Have you seen what it looks like today?” Owen asks.

I push open my door, and warm late-April air slips beneath my clothes, carrying jet fuel, the smell of hot pavement, and a layer of humidity that has my skin instantly glowing.

The burner Winston gave us is switched off and buried at the bottom of Weller’s bag. Owen locks the doors with a look of longing.

We use the stairs instead of the elevator, with Weller checking each landing before the rest of us continue, Owen behind me, and Tristan near the open side of the garage where he can see the roads below. Every time tires turn toward us, all four of them tense, shoulders settling and hands emptying as their bodies make room for violence.

It’s weird seeing them like this, out from under Whitney’s house and collars, Montgomery’s gates, all four of them moving like they finally answer to themselves. For one flight of stairs, I let this feel like the first normal vacation we’ve ever taken together. Then sweat stings beneath the glued cut at my neck. Owen closes the distance behind me, blackcurrant and spice hitting the fever under my skin.

Outside, Owen and Weller take either side of me, while Freddie and Tristan walk together far enough behind us that we don’t look like a group. We follow a service road beneath palms that look too cheerful and carefree basking in the morning sun. The airport recedes behind a string of businesses targeting travelers, but the sky remains exposed, and I keep waiting for the insect whine of a drone. A large white van slows beside us. Owen moves closer, and Weller’s hand wraps around mine, but then it turns into a hotel driveway while we keep walking.

The tourist shop sits at the end of a sun-bleached strip beside a closed seafood place. Its windows are crowded with beach towels, shell necklaces, and a headless mannequin wearing a bikini made of so little fabric the price tag is shocking.

“Freddie will go in alone and get what we need,” Weller says.

Freddie glances at the others. “Is it because I’m so charming?”

“Yes,” Tristan says. “And you look just the type to buy a bunch of touristy bullshit.”

“That’s mildly offensive, but I’m just going to assume you mean I look like I’m always down to have a good time.”

“Don’t get me anything too dorky,” Owen mutters.

“Can the three of you be quiet, please?” Weller gestures for Freddie to proceed inside.

Freddie squeezes my fingers and kisses my forehead before walking inside with his easy smile already in place. I watch him through the large window, and within a minute he has the cashier laughing while the rest of us arrange ourselves as naturally as we can along the storefront as if we’re not watching every reflection, passing car, and person holding a phone.

A woman across the street raises hers. Tristan steps in front of me so smoothly his shoulder blocks most of my view, but she turns toward a painted marlin on the restaurant wall and takes three pictures without ever glancing our way.

“This is fun,” I say.

Weller’s eyes stay on the dark glass. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

Freddie returns with two enormous plastic bags with a surfboard logo on the side, far too pleased as he distributes floppy hats, sunglasses, and aggressively cheerful shirts and swim trunks, while for me he has an entire bag of swimwear and sun dresses.

Freddie holds up a hand and catches a tossed key. “Bathrooms are around the side. Let’s go get changed.”