Over and Run With - A Gallagher Girls Story

Chapter Nine

Upon entering the hotel room, I was immediately tackled to the ground. It was a hard fall, and I landed on my bad shoulder. In an instant, I couldn't breathe. I couldn't scream. Lightning shot up my spine and my training took over every part of my body—one, two, three hits before I finally had the upper hand. I flipped my attacker, then pinned them to the ground beneath me.

And then I smiled. "What are you doing here?"

My enemy looked up at me, blonde curls splayed across the stale, uncushioned carpet below. Despite her compromised position, she was absolutely beaming. "Boy am I glad to see you."

"Alice." Her name came out as a sigh as I stood myself back up, then pulled her to my side. And then kept pulling her. Right into a hug from which I would never, ever let her go. "How did you find us? We've been on the road for hours—I'm so glad you're here. How did you get here, weren't you halfway across the word? I'm so glad to see you."

Luke answered the question before she even had the chance. "You didn't really think we were going to do this without backup, did you?"

The truth of the situation was that I hadn't actually thought that far ahead. Since that first sniper shot through our safehouse, most of my time had been dedicated to survival; the kind of quick and necessary decisions that stem more from the gut than the mind. I still felt like I was mid-mission, my adrenalin only just starting to settle. Hours in a car had only left me with anxious jitters buzzing beneath my skin, restlessness leading to doubt, and doubt leading to regret. At this point, all of my energy was devoted to keeping my head above water.

I watched as Luke—levelheaded, kindhearted Luke—set both go-bags at his feet. As he locked the door behind him. Some small part of my overall unease vanished as I realized (or maybe just remembered) that he was always going to be a few steps ahead of me. That somehow he just knew what needed to happen next. No judgement. No questions. Just a plan. Always a plan.

I remembered him playing chess with my grandfather. I remembered his debate of Shakespeare. Luke Collins was big, and strong, and sometimes he could be so, so clueless. But he was smart. The guy was damn smart, even if he didn't quite want anyone to know it.

"I didn't even hear you call her." It was more of an observation than anything else. A testament to his skill. I heard everything.

He only shrugged. "Well I would imagine not, with the way you snore."

"I do no such thing."

"Okay."

"I don't."

"If you say so."

"Did you call her while I was asleep?" I thought back to that sliver of nighttime, amounting to more of a snooze than a slumber, without so much as a single dream. I thought back to our drive, the sun cresting over Italian mountains. I thought back to the afternoon courtyard outside of our hotel, and then I thought back to the glaze in his sea glass eyes. "Luke," I said. "Have you slept at all since I've seen you?"

He blinked, and it was the slightest bite of his lower lip. He was trying to come up with something to say that wasn't a lie, but he must have decided that he was too tired for any of it. "Not even twelve hours ago," he said, "you suggested that we walk away from the only people with whom either of us have known any semblance of security, in favor of contacting a man who has tried to kill you on two seperate occasions."

Actually, I was fairly certain that during both of those occasions, Mr. Hughes had been bluffing about his willingness to kill me, but now didn't seem like the time to say so. Especially since I had no way to be sure.