After stealing money from her wealthy but controlling stepfather, Nataly Collins makes the bold decision to run away with her four-year-old sister. But as she does, she crosses paths with an escaped convict from the local penitentiary, and he plans...
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I suck in another yawn while mindlessly flipping through satellite radio stations, wishing I still had my cell phone to access one of my playlists. There was no way I could bring my phone, though. Ken can track it.
I shoot another glance at the digital dashboard:
6:42AM
I've been driving on the highway for two and a half hours. Nova passed out an hour ago after she realized getting to Disneyland would take awhile.
For a moment I just listen to her cute little snores and know that I'm doing the right thing by taking her with me. It was something I went back and forth on and now feel guilty about. Of course, Ken won't just be mad when he discovers what I've done—he'll be enraged. He'll throw every resource at his disposal to find us. Still, I couldn't abandon her.
DING. DING. DING
The soft ring jolts me from my thoughts. I blink down at the source, upset that I'm already low on gas. If I don't find a station in thirty miles, Nova and I will be stranded on the side of the road and promptly returned to our father.
A bucket of fear douses me, shaking me awake.
I can't let that happen.
We're literally in the middle of nowhere on the I-15. Nothing but a vast landscape of smooth red rock for miles ahead. If I had my cell phone, I could use Google Maps to see where the nearest gas station is. Instead, I have to use panic, instinct, and an antiquated map of Utah, which I also stole from Ken's office.
However, wrestling a map while driving is not anything I'd recommend. And it proves absolutely useless for gas station information.
"Shit," I mutter, anxiety rising.
Just stay calm, I tell myself. Something will come up.
But nothing does except for an exit to one of the state's penitentiaries. Definitely don't want to go there. Not that desperate.
A million scenarios play out in my head, freaking me out more. All of them end with Nova and I back in Ken's clutches by noontime.
My mom used to call me her little worry wart. When she first met Ken, I had a million questions about what kind of guy he was and what sort of future he'd provide for us. She simply chuckled and kissed my forehead. "Baby, I got this. In the meantime, be a kid already, won't you?"
Now I wish I would've pressed it a bit more. I used to be so angry with her after we moved in and discovered what kind of control freak he was. When she passed away, it became water under the bridge. How could I stay mad at her when she was buried six feet under? Even if I found myself at the mercy of her shitty new husband.
Soon, a large green sign informs me that Cedar City is approximately fifteen miles away. I breathe a gulp of relief.
Nova and I won't get stranded after all.
I take the exit for the first gas station in view. It's not quite in Cedar City but on the outskirts. There's a shady looking auto shop off to the side and a semi-truck parking lot for those looking for a place to sleep.
For the most part, the gas station is empty with only flickering light as company. I would wait until we get to a nicer location, but places like this—no matter how murdery the vibes—are under the radar and will hopefully make it harder for the police to trace us.
Turning around, I see that Nova is still fast asleep in the back. No point in waking her up. I'll run in real quick, pay the merchant, and surprise her with a Laffy Taffy once she wakes up.
Inside, the gas station reeks of expired chemicals. The merchant hardly regards me. Out of precaution, I flip the hood up on my puffy coat to disguise my golden-brown curls. Mom called it my one true trademark. She never had to scan a store for long in order to find me.
It takes just a few seconds to grab the Laffy Taffy and head to the checkout. That's when I notice the morning news is playing behind the merchant as he scrolls like a zombie on his phone.
I suck in a breath.
Ken should still be asleep, but if he woke up and realized we're both gone, we'd definitely be on the seven o'clock news. That man has resources I can't even fathom.
Nervously, I glance up at the T.V. only to realize they're not featuring me or Nova—thank God. They're actually talking about some Mayhem Six gang member that got arrested in Vegas and somehow escaped during transit to one of Utah's prisons. Apparently overcrowding was an issue in Nevada.
"Hmm," I unwittingly comment aloud, noting the convict's mugshot.
I mean, talk about easy on the eyes. He's the epitome of hot. Young, dirty blond hair with shaved edges, brooding blue eyes, and tattoos that snake up his neck. Trouble, trouble, trouble—but in all the right ways.
"Anything else?" The merchant asks.
I blink, coming back to my bleak reality. I send another anxious glance back to my car. Nova is still asleep and okay. "Uh, yeah. Can I get forty on pump two?"
After the transaction, I jog back to the car and pump the gas. The sky is still a dark purple, and since there's no one around, I decide now is a good time to count the money from Ken's cashbox.
I pop the trunk and find the black box, twisting the silver knob. Hundreds of dollars fill my vision, along with some documents that look like coded gibberish. I ignore the folded documents and keep my cool, methodically counting the money. Soon I'm mumbling the count aloud to myself, my thumb and forefinger flicking each edge like a well-practiced bank teller. "$3,500... $4,000... $4,500... $5,000...."
A smile brushes my face. I can't believe it. There's about six-thousand dollars here. This is far more than I thought it would be.
Excitement settles in the hollow space of my belly. This is just enough to get us to Phoenix comfortably. It'll afford us a rundown motel until I land a job.
Maybe sometimes things just work out.
I whistle back to the pump and remove the nozzle. But it isn't long before my whistle cuts off and all excitement fizzles out.
Someone snatches my hood off from behind and presses an object against my neck. Something hard, cold, and dangerous.
"Don't. Fucking. Scream," a deep voice rumbles in my ear. "If you do, I'll blow your head off."
Fear slithers up my throat along with an urge to scream in pure terror.
ButI remind myself of his threat and press my lips together, slightly holding my hands up to show submission. "O-okay."
"That's a good girl," the voice purrs. "Now, you're going to do exactly what I say if you want to make it out of this alive."
