We slept at a rest stop on the outskirts of Horseshoe Bay in the back seat of Guy’s Lexus. Draped beneath a single blanket to stave off the cold, huddled close to conserve warmth, we woke when the sun was just peeking over the horizon and stabbing light into the vehicle.
“We’ll stop at a gas station to get something to eat and use the restrooms while we’re there,” Guy said, shrugging out of his torn, bloody dress shirt, revealing the tanktop beneath it.
“Where are we headed?” I asked.
“Fredericksburg. It’s far enough away from the city to not draw immediate suspicion and enough of a tourist attraction to where if they do manage to catch wind of where we are, it’ll be difficult for them to find us.”
“What about the car? It’s not like you’ve mentioned anything about fake plates.”
“We’ll be gone by the time anyone ever finds it.”
I remained silent as I watched him start the ignition and fumble with a few dials on the dash. I noted his immediate reaction was to keep the inside temperature somewhere between hot and cold—likely, I now realized, due to his condition—but watched as he gave pause when he caught sight of me in the backseat. His fingers instantaneously flipped the dial to the far right side—offering comfortable, cool air that would combat the worst of the Texas heats.
I fumbled over the console and landed in the passenger seat with a resounding grunt.
“You ok?” Guy asked.
“Yeah,” I said, clipping my seatbelt into place.
Over the course of the next several hours, during which time the hill country became progressively grassier and the flowers were seen only in spurts along the scenic routes, I looked out the window and dwelled on the intricacies that ultimately led to my sure position within all this.
Guy had been right when he said I’d be seen as an accomplice. Between the murder committed in self-defense and my presence within the apartment, it was only natural that they’d tie us together, especially after they looked up my records and my landlord confessed to me having unexpectedly moved out.
I was fucked. No matter what way I looked at it, I was utterly, truly fucked.
It wasn’t all bad though. A quick glance at Guy was enough to show he cared about me, at least in part. I mean, he’d taken me in, and was now leading me on a desperate quest for safety. He could’ve left me in that apartment to take the blame for everything, including the murders of the people along the Lake Lady Bird trail. The fact that he’d brought me along showed his worth as a man. Or whatever he was.
I rolled my head along my shoulders to look at him.
“Guy,” I said. “You never mentioned what would happen after we hit Fredericksburg.”
The man’s brow furrowed and his lips narrowed into a frown.
“Guy?” I asked.
“My father has a ranch outside town,” he said, drumming his fingers along the wheel in tune to the sound of something on the radio.
“You don’t think anyone will recognize you while we’re there, do you?”
“I doubt it. I may be European, but that isn’t going to be a red flag in a state like this. Besides—it’s you I’m more worried about, what with that scar and all.”
I shrugged my oversized T-shirt to the side. “There’s a reason I wear baggy clothes.”
“There shouldn’t have to be one. That’s what I’m saying, J. You’re gorgeous as hell, and the scar only adds to that.”
I lowered my head to hide my blush. “Thanks,” I said.
He reached over and pushed my glasses up my nose. “Gonna lose these if you’re not careful,” he smiled, patting my cheek. “I ever tell you I have a thing for guys with glasses?”
“No.” I paused. He looked out the corner of his eye at me. “We haven’t told much of anything about ourselves to each other.”
“Guess we’ll just have to remedy that then, huh?”
I smiled.