Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Chapter 30
Raya
When I wake to the sun warming my face, I want to disillusion myself into believing my reality isn't what it actually is. I don't want to be anywhere else but with him.
That's not what I would change. There aren't many positive outcomes to this entire situation. I'm not in a position to just ride off into the sunset with Liam. If that were possible, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
There would be no second-guessing, no wondering if I'm making the right choice. I feel them within the depths of me that with him is exactly where I was always meant to be. It seemed possible before the raid on the house, but now even though I’m trying to remain hopeful, I’m not accustomed to getting lost in dreams and fantasies.
My mouth feels like sandpaper as I roll my head on the headrest and glance at him. We've been driving for hours and hours, only stopping to put gas in the car or to switch out vehicles. Liam has stashes all over the state of Texas. Each one stocked with food and water and another vehicle. I've seen things like this on television shows where people are extreme preppers. I've always thought those people are a little crazy but now I understand why they do it.
I stay in the vehicle when we stop for gas which keeps us under the radar of everyone looking for me. It has given us the ability to move across the state undetected. Liam is hyper focused on the highway, his eyes darting everywhere. This isn’t a lazy, fun-filled road trip. His grip is tight on the steering wheel.
“If you drove a little faster, we'd get there sooner,” I say, hating that I sound like a whiny child. But I'm tired and in desperate need of a cozy bed.
“If I get stopped by a cop, this is all over,” he explains.
I open my mouth to apologize but he doesn't seem to need it nor expect it. His grip tightens even further on the steering wheel and I find myself staring at the blond hairs on his forearms that glisten in the sunlight. I wanted freedom from his house for a very long time. I don't know when that transitioned into just wanting fresh air, like I requested yesterday.
But even in this car that can't seem to eliminate all the heat on the outside, I can't imagine being anywhere else. I don't long for the campaign trail, or the luxuries the life with my parents provided.
“How much longer?” I ask, unsure of how long I'd been asleep.
“Not long,” he responds.
He insisted on driving to Mission, Texas where his boss is because he believes the man can help us. I suggested Mexico because it was a short distance from where his house was in El Paso. He instantly rejected the idea, saying it was impossible to cross the border without getting caught.
He explained that attempting to cross the river was too dangerous. He doesn't seem willing to risk my health and safety and for that I'm grateful.
“I'm hungry,” I grumble, not for the first time.
“Do you want another protein bar?” he asks.
I make a gagging noise, bringing a smile to his face.
“I want a greasy cheeseburger and french fries.”
He makes a noise low in his throat as if that would be the perfect thing right now. He doesn't placate me and tell me maybe we can get one soon. I’m well aware of the situation that we're in. I know the chances of being identified and how impossible it is right now, to just roll through the drive-thru of a fast-food place. However it doesn't stop me from wishing things were completely different.
“This is it,” Liam says, as he parks the car. He leans forward, getting a better view of the building we’re parked in front of, as if it's the first time he's ever seen it himself.
“Your boss owns this place?” I ask, as I look at the skull and flower logo painted on the door. Finis Mali, I read in my head. I’m not skilled enough in Latin to have any idea what it means. The end of something. It looks more like a motorcycle club hangout but there are no surly bearded bikers out front.
“I've never been here before,” he confesses.
“Are you sure it's safe?” I ask. As I look around and out the windows, I can't tell if the area is mostly abandoned or in the beginning stages of a rejuvenation project.
“I'm sure the building is safe,” he says, making me wonder if he doesn't feel the same way about the man inside.
Instead of climbing out of the car, he shifts in his seat so he can face me, a look of seriousness drawing his brows together. “I want you to stay in the car.” He gives me that same familiar look that translates into don't argue with me when I open my mouth to speak. “I'm going to leave it running. If you feel at all uneasy, I want you to drive away. I'll call the satellite phone if shit goes down.”