Getaway Car [HS]

Chapter Fifty

When she blinks against the sun that shines over the murky waters of the Mississippi, she finds the area surrounding the warehouse barren. The last time they visited, cars were parked up and down the street from the number of men Garrett had working and living inside, but, now, it's just the motorcycle parked on the side of the road.

She is the first to get off while he turns the engine off and puts the kickstand down with one of his feet. His gun remains in her hand as she watches him swing his leg over the bike and realizes he must have left his backpack containing the fake passport, his clothes, and additional ammunition behind in the car they were forced to abandon.

"Wait," she says, bringing his attention away from the building ahead of them. "You left your backpack? How are you gonna get out of the country without them realizing it's you if you don't have the fake passport?"

The concern evident in her lilting voice stops him from walking past her around the side of the warehouse. He narrows his eyes in assessment of her for a second, looking her up and down like he's trying to invade her thoughts, then shrugs.

"I'll figure it out. Y'still got the keys?"

She fishes them out of her back pocket and holds them up as though they're the same coveted prize that the Cobra's keys once were to her.

"Let's get the fuck out of here."

The side of the towering building is weathered from years of tropical storms and hurricanes coming up the river to batter the seaport city. Katrina did away with the building that used to sit on the waterfront before this one. It was a dilapidated little tourist shop that sold trinkets and graphic tees with the city name printed on the front. Unfortunately, the owners passed in the storm, and their property was sold to a real estate company, then a manufacturing company, then, finally, the subsection of the FBI that opened a case against Leo without Ryan's knowledge took it over after its previous owner abandoned it.

Lewd graffiti passes in the background as she and Harry walk with haste toward the small speed boat tied to the crumbling wooden dock that appears roughly one more year from sinking into the currents of the water.

She almost tells him to take the dock one person at a time once they reach it out of fear that their combined weight will make it break and send them from a quick dip in the river, but it proves strong enough when they make it down to where the boat is bobbing against the structurally questionable wood. The sole remaining backpack between them with her clothes and passport hidden inside is tossed onto the deck with little preamble, and right before she can move to step onto the boat, he speaks.

"Y'know I'm sorry, right?" Harry asks, and when she turns to look at him, the eyes set upon her are soft with fondness and, most importantly, guilt. "About everything—your family, dragging you into all this shit, and"—There's a slight hitch in his breathing before he goes on—"letting you fall in love with me after everything I did."

For a fraction of a second, she almost considers accepting his apology. It's a tricky thing to fight the desires of the heart. It doesn't follow logic the way the mind does, and, quite frankly, she's allowed herself to do away with logic entirely since she met him. She allowed herself to fall blindly, and that, she supposes, is her fault. Not his. Had she been smarter, had she not given in to the temptation that was a man she knew was reprehensible to most from the beginning, it could've been avoided.

Even though she can feel the phantom hands of her mother, father, and Peter attempting to shake her by the shoulders to snap her out of the trance Harry puts her under, she says, "I'm sorry too."

His face scrunches with confusion.

"What do y'have to be sorry for?"

A soft smile comes to fruition on her face as she looks past him, back at the street where everything she's ever known will be left behind in a pile of ash and bittersweet memory, and gives him a shrug similar to the one he gave her earlier.