Rules of Survival(19)

“I’m not taking any chances,” I whispered. “Pick another location.”

“Fine,” he hissed. Into the phone, he said, “I don’t wanna stay in one place too long. We’ll meet up with you somewhere. We passed a mall on the way into town. Oak Ridge. It’s in a town called Mayburn. About thirty minutes from where we were. We can hook up on the lower deck of the parking garage. By the gate?”

Another horn blared. Patrick shouted something about someone’s mother, then sighed. “You gonna have any trouble getting her there?”

Shaun glanced down at our joined wrists. “Yeah… That won’t be an issue. You’ll need to bring the spare shackle key, too.”

Patrick didn’t ask questions. Something on the other end of the line rattled—paper—and he said, “Done. Thirty minutes?”

“Make it forty-five,” I whispered, poking him in the arm. God. Did he know anything?

He rolled his eyes again, but nodded. “We’re not that close. Make it forty-five, okay?”

“Fine. See you then.” There was a short pause. “And Shaun?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

The line went dead.

…

Two buses and a cab ride later, we were standing across the street from the Oak Ridge Mall parking garage. It had been thirty-five minutes since Shaun called Patrick, and so far, there didn’t appear to be any sign of trouble. Still, I wasn’t ready to admit being wrong just yet. I had an uneasy feeling about the whole thing, and Mom always said go with your gut. It might not have been one of her rules, but it was solid advice that had gotten me out of more than a few tight spots. Patrick had been the bad guy for as far back as I could remember. That wasn’t going to change just because Shaun said so.

“See?” he said, nudging me with his elbow. He gestured toward the parking garage with a smug expression. “I told you. It’s fine. There’s no one waiting to jump out at us. I don’t know what you were expecting, but as you can see, we’re safe. Can we go over there now?”

I wanted to argue, but couldn’t. One step at a time. I needed the cuffs off, and Patrick was bringing the spare key. As soon as my hands were free, I could work on getting away. Patrick wasn’t operating for the police, which meant he didn’t have a warrant. That meant no paperwork to prove what he was doing with me. A young girl and two men. Some creative lies and a lot of screaming should buy me enough time and confusion to bolt. The whole “stranger danger” thing worked for girls of all ages.

Each step closer to the garage made my pulse pound a little faster. Just because I couldn’t see trouble didn’t mean there wasn’t any. I’d learned that ten times over the hard way.

Shaun, sensing my unease, took my hand. He laced his fingers with mine and adjusted the black hoodie we’d “borrowed” from the apartment laundry room strategically over the cuffs. I tried to ignore the pleasant warmth that radiated from his hand. Our life hadn’t lent itself to staying too long in one place. That put a serious damper on my social life. It was kind of depressing that the first boy I got to hold hands with was trying to turn me in.

I knew I should pull away, because taking comfort from the enemy was against the rules, but something stopped me. It was his voice. “Relax. I promised I’d make sure you were safe. I don’t go back on my word.”

No. Not so much his voice, but the words. So reassuring. So genuine.

I believed him—or at least, I wanted to. Like, really wanted to. Since Mom died, I’d been on my own, skipping from place to place. It’d been a scary series of never-ending bounces from here to there just for some small fraction of safety. Or the illusion of safety. Having to sleep with one eye open got tiring, and more than that, impossible. Live like that for too long—always moving, always running—and you were bound to slip up. In my case, I had a feeling that would equal a long dirt nap in an unmarked grave.

He’d asked how I managed on my own for so long, and the truth was, not well. There were so many close calls that Mom was probably rolling in her grave—wherever that might be. I hadn’t been able to stick around long enough to find out.

I’d found her on the floor of the cabin. Bleeding and nearly gone. She’d taken my hand, squeezed, and given me permission to break one of her golden rules:

Never return to the scene of a crime.

“When you’re sure the coast is clear, come back. I left something for you—there are things you need to know… I left something…”

“What is it? Tell me!”

She coughed, and a small trickle of blood leaked from the corner of her mouth. “No—no time. They’ll be back…”

“They?” I panicked. “They, who?”

“There’s something— Something I need you to do for me. Back when—safe. For now, though… Run. Don’t let them find you, baby girl. Don’t trust anyone.”

It had been seven kinds of agony leaving her there like that. Cold and alone like some discarded and unwanted thing. Mom had been my entire world. Turning away from her that day had been the hardest move I’d ever made. And staying away for so long when I knew she’d left something for me? It’d taken every ounce of self-control not to come running back the very next day.