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“Cheap being the operative term.”

They’d cleaned out both of their bank accounts just before hopping on a bus from Oklahoma to Wyoming. Without the protection of the police department, money was going to be tight. Neither of them dared to use their credit cards.

Rodney rose. “I’d rather walk the perimeter of the property again. Try to map out some sort of plan in case the bad guys show up. Why don’t you do the cabin research?”

“You mean I can leave the room?” She’d expected Rodney to keep her under lock and key in the tiny room, and while she wouldn’t complain, she didn’t relish the boredom that would ensue.

“Well…” he hedged.

She stood quickly before he could change his mind. “This sounds like a good plan. It will be too suspicious if I stay in this room. Better if we act normal.” She gave Rodney a quick kiss on his cheek. With his short black hair and light brown skin, he was the poster child for biracial beauty. Handsome as sin with a body to die for, he was also completely, one hundred percent out of the closet.

Another loss for our side, Bridget thought when Rodney added a strong hug to her kiss. Rodney had confided one evening several months ago that his sexual preferences had come to light shortly before her unfortunate evening in the warehouse. Some of the fellow officers in Rodney’s precinct had revealed their true colors as homophobes and roughed him up one night after his shift ended. The asshole officers had been suspended, but the chief had thought it best to put some time and distance between all parties. As a result, Rodney had been assigned “babysitting duty”, as he called it. Their first few weeks together had been strained to say the least as Rodney harbored some serious anger over the assignment and Bridget wallowed in grief and guilt over her part in Lyle’s death.

The night after the first attempt on her life, they’d started talking rather than avoiding each other. Eventually Bridget’s grief lessened and Rodney’s anger abated. Since then, there wasn’t a thought either of them had that wasn’t shared.

“Just don’t leave the house, kitten,” he cautioned.

“I won’t.”

“And try not to engage in conversation with anyone. Don’t establish eye contact or let anyone see you.”

She barely caught herself before she rolled her eyes. “That might be tough when I ask to use a computer.”

Rodney shook his head. “This is a mistake. Maybe it would be best if you didn’t leave this room.”

She grinned at his overprotective nature. “I won’t go farther than the sitting room downstairs. I’m researching cabins, remember? Finding us somewhere else to stay. I’ll be in and out so quickly no one will remember I was even there.”

He sighed. “Don’t go on any personal accounts. No checking email or IMs or?—”

She held up a hand to silence him. “Preaching to the choir, Officer. Believe me, I know the drill by now.”

He reached up and ruffled her hair before turning and heading out the door. Before he crossed the threshold, he issued the same warning he’d been giving her for months. “Be careful, Bridge.”

Walking to the dresser, she straightened the hair Rodney had mussed up. Studying her reflection, she realized that, for the first time in a long time, she looked more like her true self. She wondered at the transformation.

For months following Lyle’s murder, she’d worn dark circles and a haunted expression. She’d been a stranger even to herself, jumping at every sound, trembling every time the lights went out. Her mother used to despair about her habit of rushing into danger headfirst without a care to the consequences. In the course of ten minutes, that rashness, that faux bravery had been wiped out. It had taken her a long time to get used to the new, far-too-cautious woman she’d become.

The self-assured gleam in her dark brown eyes was gone, replaced instead by wariness. That look no longer seemed strange.

This is the new normal.

Picking up a hair band, she pulled her dark blonde hair into a ponytail. It had grown quite long since she’d left New York.

“That’s what happens when you lead a life on the run. No time for the hairdresser,” she murmured. Maybe she’d look up hair salons in town while she was searching for a secluded cabin to rent.

That thought was dismissed almost immediately. Money was too tight. She and Rodney had spent nearly two hours last night trying to figure out how long they could exist on their own before they ran out of funds. There were three weeks left before the judge’s trial began. They had enough money for perhaps two, if they were thrifty.

Bridget released a long breath and dismissed that worry from her mind. She and Rodney had adopted the “one day at a time” motto the second they left Oklahoma. For today, she had a roof over her head and enough money in her pocket for food. She also felt safe for the first time in months. After the attack on their first safe house, Bridget hadn’t had a peaceful moment, constantly looking over her shoulder. She wasn’t sure what was so different now, but she knew—to the depth of her soul—that she and Rodney were in a good place. No one in the world knew where they were or how to find them. It felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders for a little while. She intended to enjoy the respite.

Walking into the hallway, she locked the door to her room and descended the wide staircase. Glancing in several of the B&B’s common rooms for Todd or Steven, the hotel proprietors, Bridget took a few minutes to study the beautifully restored old home. When they’d arrived yesterday afternoon, Rodney had hustled her to their room immediately, sequestering her there while he checked out the property and secured food for their dinner. It felt good to be free.

She was about to cross the foyer to check the other side of the house when the front door opened. Her new habit of hide first, ask questions later emerged and she panicked, trying to dodge back the way she’d come. In her haste to escape, her foot caught on the edge of the Oriental rug, and she took a hard tumble.

Four boot-covered feet appeared before her. She felt strong hands on either side reaching down to help her up.

“Sorry,” she said, keeping her head down. It was foolish to think anyone in this small, middle-of-nowhere town would know who she was, but Rodney had taught her well in the art of making herself as invisible as possible. She fought to suppress her trembling hands. Her heart was racing a mile a minute. God, why did she have to be frightened of her own shadow? She hated living like this, feeling this way.

“You okay, miss?”