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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Brandon drives this time, and for several miles, we are nothing but quiet, heavy souls, trapped in a crappy box of metal that we pray won't suddenly get surrounded by police or break down.
The landscape becomes more brown the farther we go, though little splashes of green litter the desert. Purplish mountains continue to frame Nevada's beauty and the clouds above loom close. The roads wind back and forth as we take the ones less traveled. But Brandon drives at a much faster rhythm than I do. I'm thankful for it. The faster he drives, the sooner we get to the safe house.
The image of me on the news—flipping off Ken—plays like a loop inside my head. I can't believe I actually thought I could do this. Escape him. If Nova and I hadn't run into Brandon, I'd be sitting in a jail cell right now. I'd be getting ready for trial as a kidnapper.
My throat constricts and I hate myself for wanting to cry. But I can't help feeling like I've ruined the rest of my life. That my only option now is to join Brandon in a lifetime of crime. If he'll have me.
The idea is hilarious, actually. Me in a gang? Who on earth would take me seriously?
"It's going to be okay," Brandon says, without even eyeing me. "I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but things will...get better."
There he goes again. So perceptive.
I glance back at Nova, who is currently playing with the frog toy. My throat constricts all over again. "She's counting on me, Brandon. I can't let her down. She can't go back to him."
"She won't."
Somehow, I believe him. Somehow his words mean more to me than they should.
We arrive in Reno around noon, in the lazy roll of traffic. By now we've passed two police cars, both which have ignored us. I'm beginning to breathe easier.
"Are you sure the police won't find us here?" There. I finally ask the question I've been dreading to ask. Maybe because holding onto false hope is better than no hope at all and Brandon is the only hope I have left.
"I'm sure."
I study him. "How sure?"
"You'll see."
I blow out a breath. "I think I've more than proven myself now. Why are you still holding back details from me?"
Brandon looks at me briefly; smiles. "Look, princess—"
"God, we're back to that stupid name?"
"Do you prefer 'Buttercup'?" he asks. I glare at him. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. This time I mean it."
"Mhmm."
"I do."
"No you won't, because let's be honest. You see me as a damsel. A helpless rich girl who relies on your criminal expertise."
