I can’t see past the twin domes of my headlight, the black tar texture visible despite the dark night. It had been an hour since I left Tanglewood city limits. I hoped to be farther by now.
Maybe I should have stopped to make better plans.
Should have booked a bus or even a plane. I couldn’t risk it, not with Stefano outside my door, demanding to see his son. The moment the little bar in the test turned pink, my life changed. It stopped being about survival and became about something more. About a life for my child, free from danger, from violence. From fear.
Something fluttered in my chest, something like hope.
Stefano found the test in the trash can, and he had lost his shit. Beaten my so badly I was afraid I would miscarry. Then he had kicked me out of the house. And even then, even clutching my stomach, my face bruised and bloody, it was a blessing.
A blessing, like the small child sleeping in the backseat.
At least he doesn’t know how afraid I am right now, my heart thudding against my ribs, my sight blurring with adrenaline and exhaustion. He doesn’t know how it feels to be hit, to be used, to be given as a gift by his own father. And if I have my way he never will.
The car jolts into the road, pulling a short scream from me. Only a pothole. I’m jumpy and way too tired to be driving. I check the rearview, but Ky’s eyes are still closed. I hope he’s dreaming about the dragons, like the light-up toy he clutches in his small fist. They’re fierce. They don’t need to pack up their belongings in the middle of the night and drive toward nowhere. They don’t need to be afraid.
The bright side. There’s always a bright side, no matter how dim.
Oh, I know. There are very few times in a girl’s life when she could make this statement with complete certainty: things could not possibly get worse.
Red and blue lights flash in the mirrors, spilling light onto the windshield.
My heartbeat speeds up, almost frantic with its warning: danger, danger.
Oh God. Was he from Tanglewood? Had Stefano found me already? He had so many cops in his pocket. Why else would a cop pull me over? I wasn’t speeding. The registration sticker might be a little old, bust he couldn’t see that in the dark.
My stomach clenches—a hard ball of anxiety that rolls back and forth between make a for it and follow the rules. Following the rules hasn’t gotten me very far in this life. My finger throbs as if to remind me of exactly what rules had done.
Running won’t work, not on this empty stretch of road that I don’t recognize, with the needle closer to E than F. If the cop isn’t dirty, he’s not going to give up if I ignore him.
And if the cop is dirty, then I’ve already lost.
CHAPTER TWO
The second said, “She shall have a temper as sweet as an angel.”
Jessica
My hands shake as I steer the car to the shoulder. The cop pulls up behind me, the lights still spinning, throwing blue and red onto the worn cloth seats. I watch the driver’s side door of the cop car, but it doesn’t open. Seconds tick by, each one pushing the knife deeper. What if he’s calling Stefano right now? I shouldn’t be sitting here, waiting.
A wave of dizziness washes over me, turning my palms slick with sweat.
I don’t think I can go on much longer, but God knows I can’t stop. I’m in between the proverbial rock and hard place. The rock, a dangerous mob enforcer who thinks he owns me. And the hard place, a cop stepping out of his car and approaching my door.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper to Ky.
He’s still asleep, and I’m the only one who needs reassurance right now.
I roll down the window and stare at a black belt and beige fabric.
A man leans down, one hand on the top of the car, the other shining a flashlight directly into the car, blinding me. All I can see is white. All I can taste is metal. I’m two seconds away from kicking the car into drive and pressing the pedal to the floor. It’s not safe for Ky, but nothing is, definitely not a dirty cop working for the mob.
“Good evening, ma’am. License and registration.”
In other circumstances, the honey-smooth drawl might have made me feel safe. Under these circumstances, on the run and exhausted to the bone, safety had taken a permanent vacation. Exactly where it had been most of my life.
I reach for the passenger side drawer, hoping he doesn’t see my hand tremble. I find the little insurance slip—the cheapest kind that anyone sells. My license I pull from my purse. Then I hand them over, squinting into the light.
