I grabbed my purse from the floor and pulled out the Ruger SR22. His eyes were wide as he stared at it.
“When did you start carrying it around?” He held out his hand, and I gave it to him, making sure the safety was still engaged.
“I got it a few weeks ago.”
His head snapped up. “A second gun? How? And why the f**k didn’t you tell me?”
“Drew helped me.”
He cursed under his breath. “Motherfucker.”
“We went over lunch. And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you freaking out and stressing any more than you were.”
“Where’s your other gun?”
My eyes widened, flickering briefly to the closet. “Nate, I don’t—”
“Where?” His jaw was locked, anger radiating from him.
I walked into the closet and sighed as I pulled out the black metal case.
Nathan watched me as I exited and set it on the bed.
“How do you open it?” He set the Ruger down.
I lined my fingers up and set them down. “It’s a biometric fingerprint lock.” After a moment, the lock sprung and the case opened. “Glock 19.”
He reached forward and grabbed the gun along with the clip that was sitting beside it. He looked at it for a moment before sliding the clip in.
“Have you ever used a handgun before?” I stared at him, and he shook his head. “Any gun?”
“A shotgun long ago.”
I held out my hand. “Give it to me.”
He glared at me. “No.”
“Nate, you don’t know how to use it.”
“I’ve seen it used enough.”
“When? On television? This is serious. I went through training classes. It’s not as simple and easy as you think.”
“Aim and fire, right?”
I huffed and rolled my eyes. “There are safety precautions so you don’t shoot someone by accident. You need to know how to use it.”
“Then show me. That’s why you got a second gun, right?”
“I got it to protect us. I’ve never had to use it, let alone to kill anyone.”
He shook his head. “It’s not killing if it’s self-defense, and they’re coming to kill us.”
“Nate…”
“What? Why else would you buy a gun?”
I continued to look at him for a moment before focusing on the two guns I owned. The main reason I purchased the Ruger was for its size and easy portability. It didn’t detract from the reality of why I purchased the smaller firearm.
I wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
“I’m tired of being afraid of the monsters that hide in the dark, of evil things in the form of humans.”
He nodded and handed me the Ruger while he stuffed the Glock in the back of his pants.
“Then it’s time to end this.” He held out his hand, and I slipped mine in.
Together. Live or die, it would be together.
CHAPTER 27
When we got down to the parking lot, Nathan popped open the trunk to my car and not his own. I glanced at him in curiosity, but understood. Switching to mine could buy us some time, because we were always in his car.
The air was heavy as we made our way through downtown to Meridian Street and north a mile to pick up I65. We were both stiff, unable to relax. I watched the Indianapolis skyline disappear in the rearview mirror when the interstate angled west. The IMA sat off to the right overlooking the White River as we passed, streetlamps filling the car with alternating light to dark.
“Shit.”
I turned to him. “What?”
His jaw clenched tight, eyes flickered between the road and the mirror. “They’ve already found us.” The engine revved as he pressed on the gas pedal.
I looked into the rearview mirror, but only saw the bright headlights from all the other cars. My heart fluttered in my chest, the beat seeming to increase with our speed. Every time I took a breath, it echoed in my ears. I kept watching, waiting to see what he did. A few miles flew by, and we approached the exit for I465.
Then it became clear, as traffic moved over to the exit lane, and one car accelerated toward us. Nathan’s knuckles were white as he gripped onto the steering wheel and hit the gas again as the speed limit increased. The words “Thank you for visiting Indianapolis” flashed by, and we were out of the city. My hands trembled as the safety of population was replaced by the unknown of Indiana’s famous corn fields.
Someone had to know. If we didn’t make it, someone had to know what happened.
Nathan cursed again and swung the car hard right over two lanes, barely missing the grassy median as he took the exit. Lebanon was written on one of the signs, and the tires screeched as we turned left at maximum speed.
Why is he taking us off here?
I torqued my body at an awkward angle to see if we were still being followed, and I caught their car swinging hard, barely missing the metal guardrail. If nothing else, there was a bit more space between us and them.
I dug my burner phone out of my pocket and pulled up my text messages. A hard jostle of the car from a pothole sent the phone flying from my hand and slipping between the door and the seat.
“Shit!”
My gaze flickered to the rearview mirror—the second set of headlights was much closer.
I shoved my hand in the tight space to get my phone. There wasn’t much time left. My fingers clasped around the plastic and pulled it up. I looked for another sign when we took a hard right and typed frantically, hoping he understood.
Lafayette Lebanon CR1300. Chased. Help.
I sent it off and clasped the phone between my hands in a silent prayer. When I opened my eyes, headlights shone back at me. The car honked, long and loud, and we swerved.
No matter which way we zigged or zagged, the car after us kept up.
I was jostled into the door, cringing in pain. The sound of screeching metal filled darkness. We couldn’t get away and were hit again, pushed several feet over in the lane.
The metal made a sickening crunching sound as Nathan veered off and took the car into the grass that separated the road from the field. I screamed when he barely missed a mailbox.
The car behind us was undeterred. It kept at us, hell-bent on catching its prey.
Nathan’s eyes were focused and his grip on the wheel firm, yet he somehow seemed relaxed. Like he’d done this before.
An eerie chill slid down my spine. He had done this before.
“When did you start carrying it around?” He held out his hand, and I gave it to him, making sure the safety was still engaged.
“I got it a few weeks ago.”
His head snapped up. “A second gun? How? And why the f**k didn’t you tell me?”
“Drew helped me.”
He cursed under his breath. “Motherfucker.”
“We went over lunch. And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you freaking out and stressing any more than you were.”
“Where’s your other gun?”
My eyes widened, flickering briefly to the closet. “Nate, I don’t—”
“Where?” His jaw was locked, anger radiating from him.
I walked into the closet and sighed as I pulled out the black metal case.
Nathan watched me as I exited and set it on the bed.
“How do you open it?” He set the Ruger down.
I lined my fingers up and set them down. “It’s a biometric fingerprint lock.” After a moment, the lock sprung and the case opened. “Glock 19.”
He reached forward and grabbed the gun along with the clip that was sitting beside it. He looked at it for a moment before sliding the clip in.
“Have you ever used a handgun before?” I stared at him, and he shook his head. “Any gun?”
“A shotgun long ago.”
I held out my hand. “Give it to me.”
He glared at me. “No.”
“Nate, you don’t know how to use it.”
“I’ve seen it used enough.”
“When? On television? This is serious. I went through training classes. It’s not as simple and easy as you think.”
“Aim and fire, right?”
I huffed and rolled my eyes. “There are safety precautions so you don’t shoot someone by accident. You need to know how to use it.”
“Then show me. That’s why you got a second gun, right?”
“I got it to protect us. I’ve never had to use it, let alone to kill anyone.”
He shook his head. “It’s not killing if it’s self-defense, and they’re coming to kill us.”
“Nate…”
“What? Why else would you buy a gun?”
I continued to look at him for a moment before focusing on the two guns I owned. The main reason I purchased the Ruger was for its size and easy portability. It didn’t detract from the reality of why I purchased the smaller firearm.
I wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
“I’m tired of being afraid of the monsters that hide in the dark, of evil things in the form of humans.”
He nodded and handed me the Ruger while he stuffed the Glock in the back of his pants.
“Then it’s time to end this.” He held out his hand, and I slipped mine in.
Together. Live or die, it would be together.
CHAPTER 27
When we got down to the parking lot, Nathan popped open the trunk to my car and not his own. I glanced at him in curiosity, but understood. Switching to mine could buy us some time, because we were always in his car.
The air was heavy as we made our way through downtown to Meridian Street and north a mile to pick up I65. We were both stiff, unable to relax. I watched the Indianapolis skyline disappear in the rearview mirror when the interstate angled west. The IMA sat off to the right overlooking the White River as we passed, streetlamps filling the car with alternating light to dark.
“Shit.”
I turned to him. “What?”
His jaw clenched tight, eyes flickered between the road and the mirror. “They’ve already found us.” The engine revved as he pressed on the gas pedal.
I looked into the rearview mirror, but only saw the bright headlights from all the other cars. My heart fluttered in my chest, the beat seeming to increase with our speed. Every time I took a breath, it echoed in my ears. I kept watching, waiting to see what he did. A few miles flew by, and we approached the exit for I465.
Then it became clear, as traffic moved over to the exit lane, and one car accelerated toward us. Nathan’s knuckles were white as he gripped onto the steering wheel and hit the gas again as the speed limit increased. The words “Thank you for visiting Indianapolis” flashed by, and we were out of the city. My hands trembled as the safety of population was replaced by the unknown of Indiana’s famous corn fields.
Someone had to know. If we didn’t make it, someone had to know what happened.
Nathan cursed again and swung the car hard right over two lanes, barely missing the grassy median as he took the exit. Lebanon was written on one of the signs, and the tires screeched as we turned left at maximum speed.
Why is he taking us off here?
I torqued my body at an awkward angle to see if we were still being followed, and I caught their car swinging hard, barely missing the metal guardrail. If nothing else, there was a bit more space between us and them.
I dug my burner phone out of my pocket and pulled up my text messages. A hard jostle of the car from a pothole sent the phone flying from my hand and slipping between the door and the seat.
“Shit!”
My gaze flickered to the rearview mirror—the second set of headlights was much closer.
I shoved my hand in the tight space to get my phone. There wasn’t much time left. My fingers clasped around the plastic and pulled it up. I looked for another sign when we took a hard right and typed frantically, hoping he understood.
Lafayette Lebanon CR1300. Chased. Help.
I sent it off and clasped the phone between my hands in a silent prayer. When I opened my eyes, headlights shone back at me. The car honked, long and loud, and we swerved.
No matter which way we zigged or zagged, the car after us kept up.
I was jostled into the door, cringing in pain. The sound of screeching metal filled darkness. We couldn’t get away and were hit again, pushed several feet over in the lane.
The metal made a sickening crunching sound as Nathan veered off and took the car into the grass that separated the road from the field. I screamed when he barely missed a mailbox.
The car behind us was undeterred. It kept at us, hell-bent on catching its prey.
Nathan’s eyes were focused and his grip on the wheel firm, yet he somehow seemed relaxed. Like he’d done this before.
An eerie chill slid down my spine. He had done this before.
