Pretty When She Dies (Pretty When She Dies #1)(23)

Rhonda shrugged. “I have a feeling that kinda girl will do just fine with Rob.”

Looking a little disgusted with Rhonda's words, Tammy shook her head and headed out to tell Jackson his passenger was gone. She was startled when a tall man with broad shoulders and very pale blond hair bumped into her and jostled her a bit.

“Sorry, madam,” he said in a prim British accent.

Despite herself, Tammy blushed deeply. The man seemed very out of place with his fine black silk shirt and gray silk trousers. He was holding a cola in one hand and a DVD in the other.

“S'ok. I'm fine.”

The man smiled at her warmly. “Have a good evening,” he said and moved on to check out.

Despite herself and her husband back home, Tammy couldn't help but check out his posterior as he got in line. Feeling guilty in a good way, she moved on to talk to Jackson.





Chapter Seven


Propping her feet up on the dashboard, Amaliya played with the screw top of her soda that Rob had bought her. She thought it was a kind gesture, though she had no real desire to drink or eat. Once she had sated herself on the blood of the crazy woman, she had lost what she now defined as the “need.” Rubbing the side of her nose with her finger, she felt the tiny stud in it scratch her skin. It was a comforting feeling for some reason and she let it sink into her.

It felt good to be moving again. She had felt downright claustrophobic in the hotel room with Pete laying on the bed like that.

Knowing she could not go outside during the day had eaten away at her nerves. The memory of her crisped fingers was a pungent memory and repulsive to her. Another thing from the movies that seemed to be true. How many more would join her slowly growing list?

“Why you going to Dallas?”

Rob's voice startled her. He had been so quiet for the last thirty minutes, she had slowly lost herself in her own thoughts.

“It's just a stop along the way back home,” she answered, and pretended to take a sip of her drink. She was growing more and more reluctant to talk about herself and what she was doing. The more lies she made up, the harder it was going to be. Of course, she could just make up one really good story and stick to it, but that thought depressed her somehow. Besides, most of her life she had just lived on a whim and went with the flow. The only thing she had ever staunchly planned for was going to college. Of course, when she got there, she had no idea what to study or do with herself.

“Most people hitching a ride are doing it cause they're running from something,” Rob said softly, but his voice seemed big and full and filled the cab.

Well, that summed her up pretty well. She was notorious for running from any situation she didn't like. It was her natural instinct. Flee.

“Well, I'm running to something,” she decided. “I want to see my Grandmama before its too late.”

Rob nodded. “Gotcha.” He sank back into silence, his big meaty hands holding tightly to the steering wheel as the big truck rumbled down the long highway.

Glancing into the line of mirrors out the window, Amaliya studied the row of cars behind them. Most were jocking for positions to pass the big truck and she wondered briefly if Professor Sumner was in any of them. He had told her he would watch her and she believed him.

Smiling slightly, she wondered what her score was so far. Was he taking notes? He was a damn psychology professor. Was he picking her apart? Examining her motives?

A rat in a maze. She had a feeling that was what she was to him.

“Married?”

“No,” she answered softly. “Almost was...once.” Well, technically Pete and her had never been engaged or even dated, but if things had gone differently maybe there would have been a chance. Probably not, but maybe. She could console herself with maybe. Even if she was inclined to believe she would live up to her reputation and would have bolted.

“I was married, but she died almost two years ago,” he said.

“Sorry.”

“It happens.” Again, the man went silent and seemed to turn all his attention to the road.



The silence was strangely comforting and she snuggled down in the seat to stare up at the stars. Her fingertips lightly stroked the scar where a rosary had been tattooed into her arm. The rough skin was strangely comforting despite what it meant. She could heal and heal well now, so she wondered how it had happened. Maybe when she had transformed into what she was now. She did remember vaguely an incredible amount of pain when she had woken up buried in the earth.

“We'll be there soon. Dallas. I'm feeling pretty damn tired. I think I'll just pull over and get a motel room. I guess you got folks to pick you up? Or do you need a room for the night?”

Amaliya looked toward the man with his big bland face and slightly smiled. “Not going to Wichita Falls then?”

“Too tired. I'm gonna crash for a few hours here, and then head up through Wichita to Oklahoma.”

“You don't sleep back there?” she asked, motioning over her shoulder.

“It ain't too good on my back after awhile. I'm feeling my last few hauls in my bones. 'sides, a shower sounds good.” He gave her a big toothy grin. “You're good company. You don't talk much. ”

“Not much to say. Okay, cool. Find a motel.” She nodded her head and tapped a little rhythm on her knees. “I could use some rest.”