The Runaways

Chapter 3

Caleb

When we crashed into each other earlier that morning, ballpark, I would’ve guessed she couldn’t have weighed more than 115 pounds, but this was ridiculous. She’d panicked like crazy when I slipped her a sedative, but I didn’t have a choice if I wanted to make it out of Union without her asking questions.

I held her up against the telephone booth until the police passed, then pulled her up onto my back. Jesus. Her arms flopped every which direction and her hair found its goddamn way into my eyes no matter how many times I batted it away.

Laying low would be tricky, but I could pull it off. I’d have to. Liam needed her back in Manassas in an hour, and I’d figured I’d get her there without stirring up a storm. I’d already broken my promises.

There were enough police looking for her at this point for it to be a problem. Everyone said picking her up would be easy, but I’d be lying if I said she wasn’t a distraction. Everything she did was weird, too weird not to pay attention to.

She was so different than I thought she’d be— quirky instead of cold, all kinds of awkward, and half the pretentious prick her dad was on the phone.

She talked a hell of a lot, complained even more, and always had an answer for everything. Shutting her up was the smartest thing I’d done all day. I just wished she hadn’t looked so scared about it—even if she should’ve been.

She’d screwed up what was supposed to be a quick job, maybe not easy, but quick. I was gonna get shit for getting home late, if I got home at all. It might’ve been smarter to steal some other politician’s baby, but at least this girl kept things interesting.

I kind of wanted to keep her in one piece just to see what she would do when she came to. She’d probably be pissed. Or maybe she’d be out of it. Didn’t matter either way, as long as I’d brought enough zip ties to keep her from running.

                                                                     ***

A cute little blonde passed in front of me. If she hadn’t been a security guard, and I hadn’t been on the run, I might have had a little fun with her.            

She slipped into a guilty smile, and I flashed one back, hoping she was blind enough to the news reports to keep things flirtatious and innocent.

        “Early morning for you two?” She asked.

She stopped me—like I had the time.

        “Late night.”

I winked at her.

She blushed. I could get away with murder if I wanted to, one smile at a time.

        “Where you headed, hun?”

        “Hoping to get to Manassas ma’am, but we missed our train earlier so I’m trying to figure a way out of here without having to wake her up. That’ll be tough with all of the security checks around, though.”

I leaned my head against Hailey’s like she mattered. Blondie bought it.

        “There’s an exit to the Outdoor Market on First Street just up the hall. It’s not a main entry point for the station, so it should be clear. You know how spotty security is.”

I smiled at her, maybe a little too brightly.

        “You’re a saint. You got a name?” I asked.

        “It’s Gracie.”

        “I won’t forget it.”

Already had.

        “Don’t worry about it darlin’! You can catch the bus to Manassas if you hurry. The station’s only a few blocks away from here.”

Her radio spit static. I took the hint and started off towards the first street exit.

        “Thanks.”

I hoped she’d forget my face and where I said I was going. I couldn’t afford to keep being careless. Leave it to a screw up.

Once I got outside, I carried Hailey four blocks to the Greyhound Station. The seven o’clock heat slapped me straight in the face while I choked on the stink of sticky city asphalt burning under lines of taxi tires. The humidity weighed me down so hard I thought I’d pass out before making it back to Manassas.

Sweat spilled out from under my arms ‘til the smell made me sick. To make things worse, Hailey was waking up. God, I wish she hadn’t been so sloppy about it. Her head kept rolling across my shoulder, and every time I thought she’d cut it out, her lips would end up somewhere near my neck.

Those lips.

Maybe kissing her was too much. But I had to. It’s not like you can hand a girl a roofie and she’ll pop it back like a tic-tac. But forcing her around like I did was something dad would do. Not me.

I couldn’t forget her face or the familiarity of the same raw fear I’d seen too much of as a kid. All I wanted to do was forget it. She looked like she’d seen a monster, but I wasn’t. I knew I wasn’t ‘cause up until I pulled her in, I didn’t doubt that she trusted me; and I needed her to.