Inevitable Detour (Inevitability Book 1)(22)

“Wonder if Farren likes my hair loose or bound,” I say to my reflection as I finish braiding. And then I roll my eyes at myself. “Ugh, Essa, you’re becoming one of those girls.”

However, when I walk out to the car, I don’t really care if I am becoming one of those girls. Farren Shaw is worth going the extra mile. I thought so before, but when I see him at the car, placing his suitcase in the trunk, I am definitely sure. I stop in my tracks just so I can check out how good he looks. Impeccable, that’s what he is, even when casually dressed. I’m practically tiptoeing as I again start walking his way. I’m hoping for extra time to enjoy the view. Unfortunately, Farren hears me, of course. He spins around. Even though he’s now facing me he doesn’t seem to notice my ogling of his defined pecs and bulging arm muscles, both showcased beautifully in a snug, dark-green T-shirt. He notices nothing, because, to my delight, his eyes are focused on me. Specifically, he’s checking out my bare legs, on full display in white Daisy Dukes.

I clear my throat.

Paying me no heed, his eyes rake up and over the tight yellow tee I’m wearing. When he finally meets my questioning gaze, there is absolutely no apology in his burning greens—not for blatantly staring at my legs and not for the hungry, lust-filled look he gives me right now.

It suddenly dawns on me that Farren may be as attracted to me as I am to him. Thank you, Jesus. But before I have a chance to think on it more thoroughly, or come up with something witty and flirtatious to say, Farren asks in an even tone, “Are you ready to get back on the road, Essalin?”

Quickly, I reply, “Yeah, sure.”

I hand my suitcase to him, and while he’s tossing it into the trunk, I venture, “Did you find anything useful at all on the surveillance cameras?”

He turns back to me. “No. If Haven was really here—or at the gas station—then she was kept out of sight. The kid who was working the front desk Saturday night was no help, either.”

“You showed him a picture of her?”

“Yes, Essa.” he replies dryly.

I feel silly for even asking such a stupid question. Of course Farren covered all the bases.

“So, where do we go next?” I tentatively inquire.

“St. Louis.”

“Is that where you think they took Haven?”

“No.” Farren starts walking around the car to the driver’s side door, and I proceed to the passenger side. He places his hand on the door handle and looks over at me across the roof. “I need to meet up with someone in St. Louis, someone who can help us. He’s been helping me track Haven’s movements thus far.”

“Who is this person?” I want to know. “Do you work with him?” At your mysterious job? I silently add in my head.

“Yes,” Farren, to my surprise, responds. “His name is Rick Martinez. He’s a good guy. You’ll like him.”

“Will I be meeting him?” I ask, surprised.

“You will. We’re meeting him for dinner this evening.”

Once we’re in the car, I glance over at Farren. “Where is Haven?” I whisper. “Has her credit card been used anywhere new?”

He scrubs his hand down his face. “That’s the problem, Essa. I don’t know anymore. Activity on her card has ceased.”

My chest tightens. “Oh my God.”

I know things are bad when Farren has no words to comfort me.



I soon discover that a funny thing sometimes happens when you find yourself in a dire situation. Well, I discover it’s the case for me when I start to realize the only way to stay sane is to think about something—anything—other than the seriousness of the situation I’m in.

So, much like our first day of traveling, I focus on the passing scenery as Farren and I log miles through the state of Indiana. I take a couple of pictures with the disposable camera he bought me. But most of what we’re traveling through is farmland, just like back in Pennsylvania and Ohio. With that being the case, finding interesting subjects, ones worthy of photographing, is limited.

That is, until we reach the St. Louis area. As we head into the city, I spot the Gateway Arch. It’s the first major US attraction I’ve ever seen, and within seconds, I am leaning out the car window and snapping photos like crazy.

“Wow, how cool is that?” I remark when I finally settle back in my seat.

“Very cool,” Farren replies. He gives me a small smile as he glances over at me. “It’s very cool, indeed.”

I don’t think Farren is as wowed by the arch as I am, but he seems quite pleased with my enthusiasm.

“Want to drive in a little closer?” he asks.

I nod enthusiastically, a grin bubbling at my lips.

Farren remains on the highway, but the route he takes offers several great angles. I get in a bunch of amazing shots, until the arch fades from view.

When I lower the camera to my lap, Farren says, “So, I think you’ll like where we’re staying. It’s in the heart of downtown St. Louis. And, I’m happy to report that this hotel is much nicer than the budget motel we stayed in the past two nights.”

I twist toward him, stretching the seat belt out with my hand to accommodate my movement. “Oh yeah?” I say, intrigued. “What’s the name of the place?”

“Union Station.”