Trapped Page 4

  It was a lot to digest, but my stomach was rumbling again. Ash waved back at the interstate.

  "Let's get you something to eat. Me too actually. I'm parched."

  I fought off another blush. Hard to believe someone who'd scored a thirty-five on her ACT hadn't thought to make sure her wounded passenger stayed hydrated. If he hadn't been a super-human shape shifter that probably would have killed him all by itself.

  I put the SUV in drive and we headed out.

  "You said that the cops were only one reason why we needed to keep a low profile."

  "Kristin, I'm trying very hard not to completely blow your world view. Are you sure you want to jump further down the rabbit hole?"

  I felt my stomach sink a little. I was still thinking through the implications of what he'd revealed already. It hadn't even occurred to me that there were more 'impossible' things out there.

  "Maybe you should give me the abridged version."

  "An awful lot of the myths and legends out there are based in some kind of fact. Sometimes you have to really work to link it back to what started it, and sometimes a single creepy-crawly spawns a bunch of myths that don't particularly seem linked, but that's more or less how it works."

  "So shape shifters aren't the only thing I should be scared of…"

  "No, in fact living in the U.S. like you do, I'd say that shape shifters come in at the bottom of the list, right around serial killers."

  Chapter 5

  We actually settled on fast food and used the drive-through. I'd spent so much time with Ash covered in blood that it had stopped fazing me, but he was right that our casually walking into pretty much any kind of establishment was going to lead to some kind of involvement by the police.

  I'd lost count, but I was pretty sure I was going on my third day in the same clothes, so as soon as I'd finished my second breakfast biscuit I started thinking about shopping. I could tell that Ash wasn't comfortable with spending any more time out and about than was absolutely necessary, but he finally agreed when I pointed out that until we had some clothes and a chance to clean up, we were practically walking around with signs on our back that said 'fugitive.'

  I pulled over at a gas station to fill up the SUV and ask directions as a first step in my master plan to get a change of clothes. The clerk, an early-twenties skater type, was super helpful, so helpful that I wondered if maybe I should try the fugitive look more often.

  The sheer normalcy of talking to a regular boy was incredibly refreshing. I found myself looking to stretch out the interaction, so I picked up not just one, but two packs of gum. It bought me maybe forty seconds and then I found myself back in the SUV.

  Ash was even more laconic than normal on the drive to the SuperMart. As we left the gas station he opened up the envelope and spread out its contents. Some of the cash went into his wallet, the rest into an inner pocket of his jacket. The backup pistol went into the jockey box, the knife into his boot, and the ammunition disappeared into three or four magazines that he pulled out of various pockets.

  Once we arrived, Ash slid his pistol back into his shoulder harness, pulled his leather jacket closed, double checked that it pretty much covered all of the bloodstains, and then nodded his readiness.

  I'd kind of expected that we'd just split up and do our shopping separately. That was the way that guys tended to think, but Ash waited for me to grab a shopping cart and then placed a hand on my elbow and steered me over to the section of the store housing all of the male attire.

  "You're seriously making me come pick out your clothes?"

  "No, I'm perfectly able to pick out my own clothes. You, on the other hand, are not leaving my sight until we're safely back west of the Mississippi."

  The slightly feminist bit of me wanted to throw a very dignified fit over his implication that I couldn't take care of myself. The rest of me calmly pointed out that I'd just had a very convincing object lesson that there were things out there that could rip me in half without breaking a sweat. I decided against making a fuss.

  Ash was a quick shopper. He pulled jeans, cargo pants and shirts off of the rack almost without looking at them. Socks took a bit longer. He picked up a couple of different packages, seeming to be evaluating the length and thickness.

  He caught my puzzled stare and shrugged. "Sometimes I wear an ankle holster and if you don't have the right socks it can be pretty uncomfortable."

  Somehow when I'd been putting together my master plan I hadn't really considered underwear. Normally that kind of thing didn't particularly bother me, but for some reason Ash's presence changed that.

  As he scanned through the options, boxers, briefs, boxer briefs, I felt my face heating up. He couldn't have stood there for more than ten seconds, but it felt like an eternity. I tried to tear my eyes away, tried to turn away but I couldn't. I wasn't even looking at the underwear, for pity's sake. Instead it was his lean, muscular frame that had captured me. Ash settled on a choice and looked up, catching me staring.

  Now I really wanted to look away, but something about his gray eyes had me captivated. For a second nothing else existed, and then he cleared his throat and the spell was broken.

  "OK, I've got what I needed. Your turn."

  I nodded, not willing to trust my voice, and led the way to the girls' section.

  Jeans, shirts, those were easy. Well, as easy as clothes shopping ever was. It was the rest of the stuff that made me blush again. A boy picking out underwear when I was with them was one thing. Me picking out underwear and bras in Ash's presence was something else entirely. I took a deep breath and headed over to the relevant racks, intending on picking out the first serviceable items I found, but instead I found myself picking up the kind of frilly stuff that boys tended to think girls wore every waking moment.

  Once the first item, a lacy black bra, was in my hands I couldn't bring myself to put it back and pick something else up so I dropped it in the cart and kept going, wincing a little every time I looked down and found myself holding something else that I normally wouldn't have even considered.

  Once I had enough clothes for a week I turned to go, but Ash shook his head and pointed at the dressing room.

  "I'm not stupid. No girl buys anything without trying it on, especially not jeans."

  Something about the way he said it, so matter-of-fact, stopped me from arguing. He followed me to the changing area and placed his hand back on my arm for a second to stop me while he took a deep breath.

  "OK, it's clear, go ahead."

  "Did you just smell whether or not there were other people in the dressing room?"

  "Partly. The better test is whether or not you can hear a heartbeat but smell at least will tell you if something other than people is in the area."

  Again, he was so calm, this time while describing something that frankly blew my mind, that I just shook my head and grabbed my things.

  It wasn't until I was inside the dressing room with the door locked, that I started wishing I'd just taken my chances and purchased the clothes. Ash hadn't done a single creepy thing, other than sort of kidnapping me at least, in the entire time I'd known him. Even so, stripping down to try on jeans and tops, knowing he was less than twelve feet away, made me incredibly self-conscious.

  I made it through the first set of jeans, feeling more flushed by the minute, and then almost as if he could read my mind, I heard him walk away. By the time he returned a couple of minutes later, I'd managed to put myself more or less back in my normal frame of mind. The rest of the process went smoothly. One of the pairs of pants just simply didn't fit; everything else would work despite most of it not being anything spectacular.

  I went back out, grateful that enough time had passed for my blush to have died out, put the pants that didn't fit back on the rack and grabbed another pair exactly like the ones that I already had that fit the best.

  The rest of the shopping trip went smoothly, for which I was profoundly grateful. Ash seemed blissfully unaware of my whipsawing emot
ions. He led me over to the luggage area of the store and got each of us a small, carryon-type suitcase. Toiletries, more gauze, tape and antiseptic finished filling up our cart, and then we were checking out.

  Ash was surprisingly domestic, moving items from the cart onto the conveyer belt and even making small talk with the cashier. It left me with nothing really to do but wander over to the magazine rack and shake my head at the latest antics of the reality TV personalities.

  A couple of minutes later Ash put his hand on my shoulder.

  "We can go now."

  I nodded, amazed at the way his touch seemed to make my shoulder tingle.

  Even after we'd returned to the SUV I could still feel the slightest warmth where he'd touched me. I didn't even think to protest when Ash took the keys and climbed into the driver's seat.

  We'd been driving for a couple of minutes before I roused enough to ask where we were going.

  "North. If we head straight west we'll end up in my old pack's territory. North is dangerous, but west is worse. My old pack would kill me on sight."

  It wasn't the kind of comment that you just shrugged off. Whether it had been his intention or not, Ash succeeded in shutting me up for most of the rest of the day. Once we made it back onto the interstate, I pulled out some of the gum I'd purchased at the gas station.

  At one point I'd been a pretty heavy chain chewer. I'd kicked the habit a while ago, but around finals or standardized tests I always had to fight the urge to start back up. I offered a stick to Ash, but he actually winced as he shook his head. I shrugged and put the stick in my mouth.

  The minty goodness was like a little slice of heaven, and I relaxed back into my seat with a sigh of relief.

  The miles rolled by. I offered to drive every so often as we pulled off to refill the SUV, but Ash always declined. At one of the gas stations I purchased a pen and a pad of paper and started writing a letter to my family. I knew that they'd be worried, but Ash had flatly refused to let me call them. I'd wanted to argue with him, but it was hard to argue with the guy who'd kept me alive so far. He'd tacitly agreed to a letter provided we took the proper precautions.

  I must have started over a couple of dozen times. I'd do the easy part about how I was fine and they didn't need to worry about me, and then I'd grind to a stop. There wasn't really a way to convince parents that they didn't need to worry about their teenage daughter, especially not when they had no idea where she was or why she'd left.

  The process consumed a lot of time, and I finally quit when it started to get dark. No sense ruining my eyes. One day sooner or later wasn't going to make that much of a difference.

  A fairly heavy rain picked up as the sun went fully behind the horizon, and the constant drone of the rain hitting the windshield was starting to lull me asleep. I was fighting to keep my eyes open still but just about ready to surrender when Ash pulled off the interstate and headed into some small town. I assumed he was just stopping for gas until he passed the second gas station.

  "What are we doing now?"

  "We both need a shower and a real night's sleep. If Anton hasn't found us yet, we're as safe as we're going to get. Now seemed like a good time to stop. Otherwise you were just going to fall asleep in the car again."

  The attempt at humor was a small one, but it went a long way to chip away the distance that had been building up between us for the last several hours.

  Ash still hadn't changed out of his bloodstained clothes so I offered to check us in. He handed me a gaudy-looking credit card that I assumed was one of the prepaid types and motioned me towards the night clerk's office.

  The motel could have been the twin of the one we'd been in when Anton had tracked us down the last time. It had the same 'U' shape with the parking in the middle, but based on the condition of the front desk it at least looked to be in better shape.

  The checking in went quickly and painlessly, but I still put in a new stick of gum while I was there because of my nerves. I asked for a single room with two twin beds. I figured Ash wasn't going to tie me up this time around, but I was positive that he wasn't going to buy off on having me out of his sight. I even looked back towards the car while I was checking in and he was watching me through the window even then.

  The clerk looked at me a bit oddly, but handed me a pair of keys without comment. As I left, I threw away the stick of gum I'd just put in my mouth. The rain had picked up even more; I could barely see Ash in the SUV now. I pointed at our room and it looked like Ash nodded and indicated that he'd grab our things.

  The room was actually cleaner than I'd expected, if less well lit. It looked like it had been scrubbed within an inch of its life, and the carpet was actually the kind of soft, plush stuff I'd always thought I'd put in my own house someday. I popped another stick of gum in my mouth, thought about opening the blinds and then dismissed it as a waste of time. With the amount of rain coming down it wasn't going to help any.

  Ash knocked on the door a second later. He'd stuffed all of the bags into the two suitcases and was carrying them both in one hand while the other held his jacket closed. He sighed as soon as he walked into the room.

  "Kristin, do you have any idea how obnoxious that gum is to someone like me?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "All shape shifters have a very acute sense of smell. The mint smell from your gum is overpowering everything else around. It's kind of like being blindfolded all of the time. I didn't say anything while we were in the car because my sense of smell isn't very useful when we're encased in all of that metal. If you could refrain from chewing when we're out and about though, I'd appreciate it."

  I flip-flopped back and forth between wanting to tell him to shove it and wanting to break into tears. The only explanation had to be the stress and sleep deprivation of the last couple of days. I managed a stiff upper lip and a nod and then picked my suitcase up and started sorting through my clothes.

  My back was turned to him, but I could hear Ash shift his weight back and forth from one foot to the other a couple of times before he walked over to the door and locked it.

  "If you don't need anything else I'll jump in the shower. I can trust you not to go outside without me?"

  I nodded, still without turning. A few seconds later Ash had grabbed some clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. My notepad and pen were in the second bag I opened up. It was a small thing, but I was starting to expect that kind of attention to detail from Ash. He'd realized that I'd likely want to resume my letter at some point and had packed it in with the rest of my things.

  I opened the notepad and started another letter, this time commencing with the hard part of why I had left. I was still struggling with the second or third sentence when Ash came out of the bathroom, a towel over one shoulder, chest bare, dressed only in his jeans.

  My heart instantly leaped into my throat. I tried to focus on something else, the window, the gash across his stomach, anything but just how perfectly gorgeous he was. Flawless skin stretched over shoulders that seemed impossibly broad once his shirt was off and you could see how slender his waist was.

  He found whatever he was looking for in his suitcase and looked up to find me staring, and for the first time I could remember he was the one to blush.

  "Sorry, I forgot the gauze and tape."

  He held up the medical supplies we'd just purchased, as if mustering his evidence, and then turned as if to walk back into the bathroom. From that side I could see the way his knife wound wrapped around him. It was remotely possible that he could bandage it himself, but it was going to be very difficult with the mirror all fogged up.

  "I can help you if you want."

  The words jumped out of my mouth without me having really thought them through, but I found myself climbing back to my feet.

  "That would be appreciated. I'm honestly not sure how I got the bleeding stopped the first time."

  I took refuge in the clinical nature of what I was doing, trying very hard to ignore the fact that und
er any other circumstance I'd be tongue-tied in the presence of someone so attractive. A few minutes later we'd taped him up tightly enough that hopefully the wound would finish healing without leaving too much of a scar.

  I'd started with his back. At the time it had seemed logical, but now it left me standing in front of him, hands still on his rocklike stomach.

  "I…ah…you should be OK now."

  "Thanks, Kristin."

  I half-stumbled back to my bed, grabbed my suitcase and fled to the bathroom. The shower, my first in something like three days, was even better than I'd expected. I stood there and let the heat work on the knots that I hadn't even realized I'd had in my shoulders. At some point the hot water started to run out, so I got out and toweled off. As I turned to my suitcase I realized I hadn't given any kind of thought to what I was going to wear.

  It felt stupid to get into jeans and a collared shirt to go to bed, but there was no way I was parading around in my underwear with Ash in the room. I went through the bags, trying to decide which of the shirts would be most comfortable and there, in the second to last bag, was the perfect answer to my quandary.

  Shorts and a tank top. I was positive I hadn't put anything like that in the shopping cart, which meant it had to have been Ash. Another thoughtful detail. He must have realized I was setting myself up for an uncomfortable night and grabbed them while I was in the changing room.

  I dressed slowly, examining my feelings for Ash with something more like my normal detachment than I'd managed for the last several days. He was gorgeous, that had never been in doubt. The question was what I thought I was getting myself into. The trucker had been way off base. Ash wasn't some kind of mafia hitman, but in other ways the trucker had seen through to the core issue. Ash wasn't a very safe person to be around. Somehow that seemed to matter less to me than it should.