Long Road Home(18)

“Whatever it is you’re thinking, I can assure you I won’t like it.”

She turned to look at him as his voice filled the car. “How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“It’s not that hard to figure out,” he said with a sideways glance at her. “You aren’t going anywhere without me, especially not with a bunch of machine gun-wielding maniacs on the loose.”

He relaxed his grip on the steering wheel and let out his breath. “Know who those jokers were?”

“I have an idea.”

“Care to enlighten me?”

She looked down at her hands. “They’re from an organization called the New French Revolution.”

“Christ. Nothing like having a bunch of terrorists wanting to kill you.”

“You know who they are?” she asked with a frown in his direction. “The NFR is a pretty low-key organization. They never publicly take credit for their hits like so many of the Middle Eastern terrorist cells.”

“I think the more important question is why you know who they are and why they want to kill you.”

“It’s complicated.” More complicated than he could possibly know. She wasn’t even sure she understood her role. Drifting between two worlds, neither good.

“So tell me, Jules, when is a good time? Maybe after I’ve taken a bullet in the ass?”

“You’re angry.”

“No, I’m pissed,” he corrected. “I tend to get that way when I’ve been shot at.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Are you shot at often?”

“Don’t change the subject. Why is the NFR after you?”

“They’re pissed off at me.”

“So am I, but I’m not trying to kill you.”

“But they’re really pissed.”

“And why are they pissed, Jules? Terrorist groups don’t usually single out an individual. They’re much more interested in large masses of people.”

“They aren’t technically terrorists,” she muttered.

He nearly veered off the road. Slowing drastically, he turned to her, his mouth agape. “Jules, why the hell are you defending a terrorist organization?”

“I’m not defending them,” she protested. And she wasn’t. Shit. She should have just kept her mouth shut and let him think what he wanted. “A terrorist and a revolutionary aren’t the same thing. A terrorist is, well, a terrorist. They operate on fear. No real or realistic agenda. A revolutionary acts to effect change. They have realistic goals.”

“I don’t believe I’m hearing this,” he said in a strained voice. “Call them what you want. They’re goddamn criminals, and they’ve killed a lot of Americans.”

“So has the American government,” she said bitterly.

He shook his head, his face reddening. So he was obviously a patriot. She had been one too, in the beginning. Now she just wanted to move to some remote jungle. Away from patriotic duty and the bullshit that was honor.

Another long moment of silence settled over them. She twisted her hands in front of her and took a deep breath. “Manny?”

“Yeah?”

“What happened to Mom and Pop?” Her voice wavered more than she wanted it to, but her parents had died and there hadn’t even been so much as a memorial service. Were they lying in a morgue somewhere? Alone and without family to take them home?

“They were cremated,” he said quietly. “It was their wish. When all of this is over with, I thought we’d go home and have a memorial service for them.”

This. He said it with such distaste. She knew this was all her doing. Not only had she killed her parents, but she had prevented them from having a proper burial.

She buried her face in her hands, utter grief overcoming her. She couldn’t grieve for her real parents. They were killers, like her. But Mom and Pop? Their only sin was taking in a homeless little girl and loving her unconditionally.

“Jules,” Manny said, his voice full of regret. He squeezed her shoulder then slid his hand down to grasp hers.

“I loved them, Manny. I know you don’t think so, but it was for them that I stayed away. And it was all for nothing.” Bitterness spilled from her lips. So much hatred. It was like poison. Felt like venom.

He slowed then pulled over into the parking lot of a truck stop. After turning off the ignition, he shifted in his seat and turned to look at her. “Perhaps you tell me just why it is you did stay away. I never considered even for a moment that you were doing so of your own free will. Are you telling me it was a conscious decision?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “It isn’t that simple.”

“Yes, Jules, it is. Either you were prevented from returning home or you chose not to come home. Which is it?”

“You see things as black or white, Manny. Things rarely are, you know.”

“No, I don’t know. Why don’t you explain it to me over a cup of coffee. God knows I could use one,” he said wearily.

She wrinkled her nose. “Make mine juice, and I’ll take you up on it.”

He didn’t smile at her. She sighed and got out of the car, stretching cautiously. She winced when pain washed over her. Her ribs were nowhere close to being healed, and she didn’t have time to make sure they mended properly.