Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
We reach the truck—a black, older model Chevy, big tires and reinforced suspension. I pop the passenger door open. “Get in,” I whisper.
Her eyes dart around, scanning the yard before she climbs into the seat, clutching her duffel bag. I shut the door gently behind her, run around to the driver’s side, and haul myself in. As soon as I lock the doors, a rush of relief hits me. Not total relief, but enough to know we’re marginally safer inside than we were out in the open.
The engine growls to life, and the headlights slice through the darkness. For a few seconds, I aim them at the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of any intruder. Nothing. Still, I don’t doubt that someone could be hiding just out of view. Without hesitation, I slam the truck into gear and peel out of the driveway, gravel kicking up behind us.
Aubree rests her forehead against the window, gazing back at the cabin. “I was just starting to think I could sleep there,” she mutters, more to herself than to me. I catch a note of sadness in her voice, and it twists at my insides. This woman deserves peace, not constant fleeing from threats.
I roll my shoulders, trying to release some of the tension that’s built up. “We’ll find a hotel,” I say, my voice low. “It’s late, but we’ll find something soon enough. I won’t stop until we’re somewhere safe.”
She nods, but she doesn’t take her eyes off the dark outline of the cabin until it vanishes behind a bend in the road. “Safe,” she echoes. “Right.”
I grip the steering wheel tight, focusing on the road ahead. My headlights illuminate old country roads lined by trees. The nearest real town is a half-hour drive, at least. We have no guarantee we’ll find a vacancy, but I’m not taking any chances by staying in a remote spot tonight. Whoever’s threatening Aubree is bold enough to show up in the dead of night, at a cabin in the woods. They’re not messing around.
As we head away from the cabin, the highway stretches out like a long, empty corridor. There are few cars at this hour, just a passing eighteen-wheeler here, a silent sedan there. Aubree stays quiet, her breath hitching every so often, like she’s still too keyed up to relax. I flick a glance at her from time to time, and my chest tightens at how small she looks, curled against the door, her bag clutched in her lap.
We pass a closed gas station, neon sign off for the night. Up ahead, there’s a battered old motel, but it looks deserted and poorly lit. I slow down, eyeing it. Paint is peeling from the sign, the parking lot cracked and sparse. It might be our only choice.
I glance at Aubree. She meets my eyes, biting her lip. “I don’t like the look of that place,” she admits.
I give the motel another once-over. My instincts scream to keep going. It’s too isolated, no security cameras that I can see, only a flickering lamp in the office window. “Me neither.”
I press the gas, speeding past it. She exhales, relieved. I can almost feel her tension ebbing a fraction. “Thank you,” she whispers, turning back to stare at the road.
“I’ll keep driving until we find something better,” I promise.
It takes another twenty minutes of winding roads and the occasional streetlight before we see a bigger cluster of lights—signs for fast-food joints and a truck stop. The first chain hotel sign glows in the distance, a Motel 6. I flick on my turn signal and veer into the parking lot, which looks halfway decent and well-lit. That’s enough for me. I triple check to make sure we haven’t been followed.
Aubree shifts, sitting up straighter. Her eyelids droop, fatigue etched into her face, but she tries to stay alert. I park near the lobby entrance, leaving the truck running for a moment while I scan the area. No suspicious vehicles, no shady figures in the corners. Just a handful of cars belonging to tired travelers.
“Okay,” I murmur, shutting off the engine. “Looks good enough. You ready?”
Aubree nods, though she still looks a bit dazed. “As I’ll ever be.”
We step out, locking the doors behind us. The fluorescent glow of the parking lot lights stings my eyes. I keep my head on a swivel, my hand hovering near my holstered gun. Once we’re inside, I find the lobby empty except for a bored-looking clerk behind the desk.
After some polite conversation and an exchange of cash, I secure us a room on the second floor.
The clerk hands over a key card with a small yawn. “Elevator’s around the corner, have a nice night.”
“We’ll try,” I mutter under my breath. Aubree doesn’t say a word, just clutches her bag and waits.