Objective (Bloodlines #2)(72)
“I don't have answers, Mags.” His shoulders slump and he looks at his toes like they’re the most interesting thing ever.
“Your f*cking feet sure as shit seem to know something!” I shout. “What aren't you telling me?”
“Ezra is on the video footage from the hospital surveillance, just before the last shot of Cane.” My stomach lurches.
“I’m going to be sick.” I head for the door but Bentley stops me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. The last thing I want is a hug, but I can’t pass up the opportunity. I snake my arms around his middle, letting my hands rest on his back pockets, and squeeze tight. “I need the ladies room. I saw it just down the hall,” I mumble, pulling away and scurrying towards the door.
When the door clicks closed behind me I turn left and jog down the hall towards the exit. Bentley is going to kill me when he finds out what I’ve done, but I need answers. I walk out of the hospital, clinging to the keys I swiped out of his pocket when he’d hugged me and trot to his truck.
Roanoke to Blacksburg takes me about an hour with the current traffic but it’s an hour's head start and that’s all I need. I pull up to the London Underground just shy of eleven pm. I leave the truck parked out front in a no parking zone and jog inside. The crowd is thick tonight as I weave through, trying to get to the bar which is currently six people deep all the way down. I head to the end and hop over the bar.
“Hey! You can’t be back here!” a pretty girl about my age yells at me as she finishes pouring beers.
“Migs!” I shout. The scruffy middle-aged man turns in my direction. “It’s time!” I shout. He pushes past the bartender, who scolded me and reaches under the back bar. It takes him a few minutes of rummaging around but he pulls out a black satchel and tosses it to me. I give him a quick head nod and small grin and hop back over the bar to get the hell outta there. Folding back into the truck I lock the doors and start her up. I flip open the satchel and dump the contents onto the seat next to me. Everything I asked for is here, a pistol, loaded, two hundred in cash and a burner phone. It’d been tricky lifting four hundred dollars off of Cane during our trip but he hadn't seemed to notice. I guess when your wallet houses endless amounts of cash in large bills it’s easy to lose track. Migs had come through with the rest, securing a gun, phone and leaving the remainder cash for my disposal. Sometimes knowing seedy bar owners has its merits. I throw the truck in drive and head to the I-40 W. It’s an eleven hour drive to Beebe and I’ll need to sleep soon. I’m just hoping I can make it to Knoxville before passing out.
“Hello?”
“Aster, it’s me,” I say.
“What the hell is going on? For the record you need toilet paper. I got food but that’s not really great for ass wiping,” she quips.
“I’ll be there tomorrow and I'll bring a roll for us. Just don’t open the door for anyone. Got it?”
“Yes, Ma, I got it. God, how did you live here? It’s a trailer for Christ's sake,” she jokes.
“I’ll have you know I quite like my rotten little trailer. Go watch the neighbors from the window and have a good laugh till I get there,” I laugh.
“Oh trust me, crazy cat lady has been thoroughly entertaining. Although I’ve yet to see an actual feline.”
“There isn’t one,” I deadpan.
“That’s just sad,” she muses. I hang up the phone, shaking with laughter, and keep driving. Thank God for Aster. Somehow she always manages to make feel sane in the most intense moments of my life.
*****
I’d pulled over at a rest stop and slept in the truck for a few hours around two a.m. By six I was up and back on the road and by three in the afternoon I'd pulled into my familiar spot at home. The door to the trailer blew open as I walked towards it and Aster rushed me, hitting me with such force that she knocked us both over. I squeeze her back as she lays on top of me squealing.
“So much for not opening the door,” I grunt as she rolls off me. Seeing her in the flesh makes me heart swell.
“Whatever, fool. There is no way a stupid door is going to stop me from hugging you after fifteen months. I had to make sure you were real.” She sighs and stares up at the clear blue sky. I poke her side from my spot in the Astroturf and smile. Home is a feeling and sometimes only family can make you feel it, no matter where you are.
“It’s really good to see your face,” I sigh, staring at her.
“Yup. I’m definitely worth the wait, yeah?” she chortles.
“It baffles me that you haven't been proposed to a million times over yet with that attitude.”
“Shut up and help me up. I need details.” She rolls her head to face mine and narrows her eyes at me pointedly. Her blonde hair shines in the sun and her eyes are lively and light brown with flecks of gold; combined with her porcelain complexion, she's stunning. We couldn’t look anymore opposite outside of our brown eyes but I suppose that’s what you get with two different mothers in the mix, and brothers for fathers. I tug her hand, pulling her up, and follow her inside.
Walking into the trailer feels like a strange time warp. Everything, mostly, is where I left it after Bentley and I wrestled and then left. It’s obvious that Aster has picked up the broken glass and larger pieces of debris but that’s about the extent of her cleaning. I pour myself four fingers of bourbon from my secret bottle hidden with the pots and pans. I took a sharpie to it and actually wrote In case of emergency, drink. I never thought I’d have to actually resort to opening it.