Intense

I pulled out and headed back onto the highway. I heard anther one of my many burner phones buzz and saw that it was a message from Travis.

Omar followed, but I lost him. Proceed with caution.

“Fuck,” I said out loud.

“What?” Tara asked.

I clenched my jaw. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” I tossed the phone back into the console and shut it.

So Omar really had followed us. I’d expected him to, but I wasn’t sure.

It would have made sense if he’d stayed behind in Dayton. It seemed as though there was something important there. But maybe all of this really was just some cheap revenge ploy, a way for him to regain some of his lost honor.

The night stretched on ahead of us as we drove. We were only a half hour away, but I needed to be careful. I couldn’t lead Omar back to the safe house, otherwise it wouldn’t be safe anymore.

As we pulled into Indianapolis, I knew our journey wasn’t quite over yet.

“We’re going to need to drive some more,” I said to Tara.

“What? Why?”

“That message earlier, it was from Travis. Omar followed us.”

“Oh,” she said. “Shit.”

“We can’t lead him right to the safe house. We’re going to have to drive around, make sure nobody is tailing us.”

“Yeah, okay. Fine. How long will that take?”

I smirked at her. “Got somewhere to be?”

“Sorry. I just want to make sure Mason is okay.”

“I get you. Shouldn’t be long.”

And so we went on a nice tour of Indianapolis. I pulled out every trick in the book, did every possible maneuver I could think of. I couldn’t spot anyone following us, but I likely wouldn’t if it were Omar doing the following. He was too good to be spotted even by someone with my skill level.

No, this was the best that I could do. I could sense Tara’s anxiety next to me, but I couldn’t acknowledge it. I wanted Mason to be as comfortable as possible, but I also wanted Tara to remain alive as long as possible.

Who knew what would happen to Tara if Omar got his hands on her.

Finally, after another half hour of fast turns, running lights, and basically insane driving, I pulled up outside the safe house. I parked the car and we climbed out.

“Home sweet home,” I said.

“It’s a dump.”

I laughed. “You’re right.”

The safe house was a crumbling row home in a line of crumbling row homes in a pretty bad neighborhood, but it was safe and presumably furnished inside.

“After you, princess,” I said to her.

She reached into the car, got Mason, and headed up the stoop.

I followed, my stomach a knot. I was worried I was too close to this, worried that Omar had followed, and worried about what was going to happen with Mason.

I was going to have to pull my shit together.

I had work to do.

17

Tara

I woke up with a start, thin light spilling in through the unfamiliar window.

I looked around the room. White walls, ceiling fan with a bare bulb attached, closet door.

So this was the safe house. I was chased from my home just to stay in some run-down, empty house in a shit neighborhood. My back was aching from sleeping on an uncomfortable mattress, and the place smelled strange.

And suddenly I felt a stab of panic. Where was Mason?

I sat up and sighed. His portable crib was set up on the other side of my bed, and he was sleeping soundly.

Last night had been a long night. As soon as we got to the safe house, Emory started checking out the place. I scoped out a room and started setting Mason up. Fortunately, he went right to sleep.

And I wasn’t too far behind him. I hadn’t realized how incredibly exhausted I was, how absolutely tired down to my bones I felt. From the moment all of this started, I felt like I was constantly on the move, getting yanked in every direction.

Just as I started to stretch and really wake up, I heard Mason begin to stir. Instead of letting him start his usual morning cry, I got up and picked him up.

“Good morning, little man,” I said, giving him the sniff test. “Let’s get you changed and fed.”

It didn’t take me long to get him into a fresh diaper and some clean clothes. I envied him a little bit and wished someone would just take my body and put fresh, clean clothes on me.

Instead, I carried Mason downstairs in the same clothes I’d worn the day before and slept in. I felt gross and worn down, but at least I was safe.

It was empty downstairs. The living room was wide with a door leading to the kitchen in the back and a short hallway leading toward the basement door and the downstairs bathroom. There was a single blue couch, a coffee table, and an old, enormous television resting on a big, wood TV stand.