It kills me how open she is with her emotions, how free she is with her affection. She grew up in a cold environment and then had to live on the run for months. She should have been hardened by now, like me. “I’m kind of annoying, that’s why,” I say lightly. “I call you up at two in the morning and make you drive around the city.”
“It’s part of your charm,” she says ruefully.
I’ve never called her out in the middle of the night before, but I’m not a chat-over-tea kind of person either. “I will miss you,” I tell my reflection in the car window, unable to face her.
Her hand is warm on my arm. “Will you please tell me what’s wrong? Maybe you don’t have to leave. Maybe there’s some kind of solution to whatever it is. Is it money?”
I shake my head. There’s only a few bucks in my jeans pocket. I have a much larger stash back at my apartment, but I can’t risk going back. Ivan has stationed men all around there. I survived on twenty dollars when I was sixteen years old. I can do it again.
“Is it—” Her voice cracks. “Is it Ivan?”
Clara has always been nervous about him, which is understandable. She’s nervous about all men, which is also understandable considering what happened to her when she was younger.
“It’s not him,” I say, “but you can’t tell him you saw me tonight.”
She gives me an insulted look. “Duh.”
I know she’ll be loyal to me. It’s one of the reasons I called her and not anyone else. Even Lola, who’s probably my best friend, would crack under the pressure once Ivan started questioning her. Besides, I don’t want to cause a rift between her and her fiancé, Blue, whose company manages security at the Grand. But actually no one really knows that Clara and I kept in touch. I’m counting on that. There won’t be any trail for Ivan to follow.
Chapter Thirteen
It’s raining by the time we reach the truck stop and say our goodbyes. Clara doesn’t want to leave me here, but in the end she’s solemn and dry-eyed. The heavy knowledge looks strange on her sweet, almost babyish face. I watch the taillights disappear before I turn my attention to the inventory.
I’m humming “It’s Raining Men” under my breath as I size up each rig and driver. I get a few catcalls, some offers of cash for sex. One is particularly colorful, offering to wash up first.
Charming.
Most of the men here are little more than animals. They’d take what they want from me if given the chance, whether I consented or not. Only the thinnest veneer of manners keeps them from surrounding me right here in the parking lot. They could take me down—a full pack against one weakened gazelle.
Luckily, I have a lot of experience training lions. I’m a fucking ringmaster.
Head high. Don’t show any fear. Walk like you own everything you can see.
I find the one I need near the back, in one of the shittier parking spots. He’s a little young. Definitely horny. And the way he looks at me tells me everything I need to know. He admires me, he wants me. But most of all he looks up to me, the way I look up to Iv
an. This one wouldn’t offer me sixty bucks to suck his dick, clean or otherwise. And he’d never force me. Hell, he’d probably give me all the money from his wallet if I asked him to. He’d beg me to refuse him an orgasm. Perfect.
“Give a girl a ride?” I ask.
He licks his lips, looking from side to side. Nope, no one is standing right next to his rig but him. “Where you heading?”
“Where you going?”
“Gainesville,” he says too quickly. God, he’d be a dream to train. If only…
“Then that’s where I’m heading,” I say with a smile.
He nearly trips over himself to clean the cab of his truck in the minutes before we leave. It’s exactly what I’d expect from him. Fast-food wrappers and porn magazines with women in leather. The industrial-grade lights in the parking lot illuminate his blush as he shoves everything under the seat.
I put my hand on his arm. We need to get out of here sooner rather than later. As in, right freaking now. Ivan will be coming after me when he notices I’m gone. More than that, I’m worried about whoever left those messages at the Grand. I don’t think I’ve been followed here, but it never hurts to be careful.
Most of all, I’m a little nervous about the other truckers who are gathering around us.
“Hey, mister. This is real nice. Thank you for making me comfortable.” I give his arm a little squeeze. “But I wonder if we could get going now?”
“Oh, right!” He looks around at the men who’ve advanced on us, just a few feet away from the truck. They aren’t making a rush for us, and I heard the locks click. But at least one of those men is packing heat, and I really don’t want to test these windows. Apparently my little subbie trucker doesn’t either. He guns the engine, and we speed into the night.
* * *