Page 10 of Empowereds
10
C harity stood in the kitchen with her mother and Zia, packing things and analyzing her first meeting with Enzo. He was handsome, charming, and had said she was beautiful. He either liked her or was trying to have an in with the boss’s daughter. She occasionally ran into people who wanted to be her friend because they thought she’d be able to influence her father to get them easier jobs or more days off.
Enzo wouldn’t be like that, would he?
Milo and Gregor strolled in. “Family meeting,” Milo said and locked the door behind him.
Her mother’s head snapped up. “What’s wrong? Where’s your father?”
Milo leaned against the counter next to Charity. “Bonding with Enzo while they load trailers, but the rest of you need to know some details about him.”
Details. Something bad. Charity’s hands tightened around the dishcloths she was holding. Her imagination spun through possibilities. He was already married. He had three children. He’d come from prison…
She hadn’t expected the story Milo then relayed. When her brother finished, she said, “It’s sweet that Enzo wanted to rescue Callum. Rash but sweet.” And not bad news at all. Enzo was willing to risk his own safety to help the oppressed.
Milo sent her a look to tell her she was missing the point. “How did he plan to get a captive away from an entire harvesting co-op? He believed he could retrieve Callum from the clutches of a dozen complicit bystanders, steal a truck, and drive off with the kid. Who has that kind of skill set? The only people I can think of are criminal mercenaries or military. Either is bad news.”
“Maybe he’s just stupid,” Gregor said.
“That’s also bad news,” Milo said. “At least for Charity.”
Zia stepped closer to the group and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Would the government send someone to spy on us?”
Charity’s mother pursed her lips. “That’s not their usual MO. They don’t need spies. They deploy a group, capture anyone they suspect, and use truth serum on them.”
Government spies? Her family was overreacting to this. Enzo probably hadn’t thought through how he would rescue Callum. He was from the city. He wasn’t used to running into slaves.
Zia’s eyebrows furrowed. “Would a criminal mercenary become a harvester? We don’t pay well enough.”
Milo shrugged. “Maybe he’s laying low for a while until the police stop looking for him.”
Gregor nodded, more amused than worried. “Maybe Charity’s love is going to reform him.”
Milo patted her on the shoulder. “Good luck with that.”
She shifted away from his hand. “You don’t know that he’s a criminal. We don’t know anything about his skill set or what he planned to do after he found the collar controls. Perhaps he assumed the farmer was a law-abiding citizen who didn’t know his workers owned a slave. Perhaps Enzo planned on going to the farmer’s house and having him call the authorities.”
Gregor snorted. “She’s right. He could just be impulsive and naive. I can hardly wait to have this guy as my brother-in-law.”
“I can wait,” Milo said. “Maybe Charity shouldn’t marry him for a few decades.”
“You told us what happened,” her mother cut in, “And you’ve let us know your concerns. They’re duly noted. Now why don’t the two of you help the others load up the trucks?” It wasn’t really a question. It was a command.
Milo and Gregor left, and Charity continued to pack in silence.
Milo was just the suspicious sort. He was wrong about Enzo. He had to be. Because she would never marry a government spy or a criminal mercenary.
When the harvesters had finished packing, Charity’s father called the group together. The two extra trucks had increased their fleet from six vehicles to eight. Her father had sold off most of the stuff they’d taken from the slavers to a market and sent the proceeds to New Salem. But he hadn’t sold the maroon truck, and Milo hadn’t sold his truck either. With people sitting in the empty truck beds, this would be the first time they could move the entire co-op in one trip.
Her father gave instructions and delivered his usual pep talk about how happy he was to work with such a dedicated group. Charity refused to let her gaze slide to Enzo. Except for once.
He stood with the other men, his backpack slung over his shoulders and a water bottle in one hand. His jeans and shirt were considerably dirtier than they’d been this morning, but he still had a confident stance. He didn’t even look exhausted from the work. Not bad for a city boy.
Some of the single women in the group had taken note of Enzo and didn’t even try to hide their approving looks.
Her father finished his speech and assigned people to their vehicles. He gave Charity the family’s Glock and the Jeep keys. “Why don’t you and Enzo take the Jeep? You can teach him how to drive it.”
Good. Her father was giving them an excuse to be together. Supplies filled the backseat, so no one else could ride with them. She probably shouldn’t have looked at Enzo right then. She should’ve been cool and unruffled and pretended like the seating arrangements didn’t matter. But she had to see his reaction, to see if he was glad or uncomfortable to be forced with her. He couldn’t feel already, could he, that her parents were encouraging a relationship between them?
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. Beyond that, he showed no reaction. People shuffled off toward the other vehicles, and he joined her.
Charity checked the gun’s safety and put it in her pocket. Everyone had to carry their belongings, and she’d collected so many clothes that her backpack bulged. Two water bottles sloshed around in her side pockets. One extra because of the vision. Since she was riding with Enzo, he’d need an extra one too.
She grabbed one from a box of dishes, filled it, and handed it to him. “This is for you.”
He lifted the water bottle he already carried. “I’ve got one.” His was the aluminum kind that kept liquid hot or cold. The one she held was simple plastic.
“I know, but it’s always wise to take extra, just in case.” She gestured to the water bottles tucked into her side pockets.
He took the water bottle and tilted his head in question. “It’s only a fifty-mile drive, right?”
“Yes, but with roads being what they are, it’ll take us three hours to get there.” She tossed her pack in the backseat and eyed the pellet gun he carried. “Do you know how to shoot?”
“A little. My gun is empty, though.”
She handed him the Glock and got into the driver’s side. “That has three bullets, but don’t use them unless I’m screaming, ‘Shoot!’”
He took the gun, put his backpack alongside hers, and climbed into the passenger side. “I thought you were supposed to teach me how to drive.”
“I am.” She pulled on her seatbelt. “The first rule of learning is to observe those who know how to do the task.”
He leaned back in the seat, stretching out. “All right. I’m observing.”
She pointed out the gas pedal, brake, gear shift, radio, and GPS. “The Jeep is an ancient relic, and so it uses an insertable key.” She put it in the ignition. “The gear has to be in park, and then you tap the gas while turning the ignition.”
She started up the engine. It roared to life without its usual sputtering. It always worked better with pure gas in the tank. “Milo says the Jeep is like a temperamental old lady. You have to know your way around her and occasionally appease her whims.”
Enzo nodded, taking in this information. “There’s an old lady out there somewhere who’d be offended by that comparison. Do you have a grandmother I should know about?”
“I do, but she’s perfectly pleasant and not at all like this thing.”
The other vehicles filed out of the drive and rumbled past the farmhouse. Giving instructions had delayed Charity, so they were the last of the caravan. She eased the Jeep on the road after them.
Enzo fastened his seatbelt. “Does your grandmother travel with you?”
Charity shouldn’t mention New Salem yet. Usually, they didn’t talk about the place to recent hires unless their father deemed them worthy of going.
Enzo hadn’t proven anything about himself yet. But since he was destined to marry her, didn’t that mean she could trust him? Charity settled on, “She lives with my uncle.”
“Whereabouts?” His voice was casual, not prying, but she still bristled a bit. She was too used to being wary of those sorts of questions.
“It’s a small place. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it.”
“Try me. I won the geography bee in seventh grade.”
Geography bee? She had no idea what that was but vaguely remembered that city kids were given grades in their schools. B’s weren’t as good as A’s. She and the other harvester kids had learned most of their lessons from recorded classes. No one gave them grades. You either learned the subject or you didn’t.
“I’m supposed to be teaching you to drive.” She arrived at the main road and put on the brakes. “Any time you come to an intersection, you need to stop and check for other cars. Sometimes there are stop signs, but don’t count on them.”
The way was clear. She pulled out onto the road. “The hardest part of learning to drive is figuring out where your vehicle is on the road. Fortunately, we won’t meet a lot of traffic on the way. If a car comes the other direction, make sure you move as far right as you can.”
She glanced at him to see if he had questions. He was gazing at the passing trees. She checked the GPS keyboard. “I typed in the address, but the signal usually drops once we’re away from the farming compounds, so we’ll want to stay close enough to the caravan that we don’t lose them.” Another glance at him. The trees still kept his attention.
Had he heard anything she said? “What are your questions so far?”
He stretched his arm along the side of the Jeep. The wind tousled his brown hair, lifting the ends. “You said the first rule of learning is to observe. What are the other rules?”
“Pay attention to your instructor comes to mind.”
He turned to her with a smile. “Am I not attentive enough? I apologize and promise to pay extra attention to you from here on out.”
Was that flirting? Probably not. With a man as attractive as Enzo, a woman’s mind just interpreted every sentence like it had extra meaning.
He was still watching her. “So what other rules do I need to know about?”
“About vehicles? Check your gas gauge each time you get in. Don’t drive too fast. And don’t stop for strangers on the road no matter how compelling they might look.”
Enzo cocked his head. “That answer implies you have other rules besides the ones for the vehicles. What are those?”
Was it too soon to scare him off? “My family has a hundred rules to live by. Honest men get up with the sun. There are two ways to do a thing: the right way and again. I won’t bore you with the other ninety-eight because you’ll hear all of them from my father before long.”
Despite Enzo’s insistence that he would pay attention to her, he went back to gazing at the passing trees. They drove in silence for a few minutes, then he said, “After Milo’s reaction to me, I was surprised your father put the two of us together.”
What was she supposed to say to that? Feign innocence to her father’s motives? Admit to his matchmaking? Her parents were likely to throw them together a lot.
“I told my father how Milo and Gregor made you chase chickens. I guess he figured neither of them should teach you how to drive.” And the fact that her father had never asked anyone to teach a new hire to drive on the day they joined the group—Enzo didn’t need to know that. “Are you ready to give it a try?” They’d reached a part of the road without many trees so she could see the surrounding area. It was as safe a place as any to pull over and switch drivers.
She expected him to ask her to repeat some of the instructions. Instead, he nodded, “Sure. Doesn’t look too hard.”
Yeah. Driving looked easy until you tried it. Still, getting behind the wheel was the only way to learn. She pulled over to the side of the road and switched places with him, taking the gun from him to put on her lap. “We can’t let the others get too far ahead of us.”
He put the Jeep in gear and guided it back onto the road, adjusting the seat and the mirrors as he drove. Surprising. He hadn’t seemed to be paying attention during that part of her lecture.
She expected him to give the Jeep either too much or not enough gas, but he drove effortlessly and even managed to stay on the right side of the road. He expertly avoided potholes as he caught up to the rest of the caravan.
She folded her arms. “You could’ve just told me that you already knew how to drive.”
He shot her a smile. “I wanted to look like a fast learner so you’d think I was good at something. Is it working?”
She was sure he was good at many things. “So how did a data entry worker learn how to drive? I thought everyone in the cities rode bikes or took buses.”
“Not everybody. Some people have cars.”
She snorted. “Only the rich.” The thought made her sit straighter. “Wait, you’re not rich, are you?” She slumped into her seat. He must be, and she’d just sounded so dismissive. She tried again to ask the question without insulting him. “How is it that someone wealthy enough to own a car had to get a job with harvesters?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he chose his words. “It’s a long story.”
“You’re in luck, you’ve got three hours to tell it.”
He didn’t answer.
Milo’s accusations came to mind, and she huffed out a breath. “Are you some sort of criminal? Is the government going to come looking for you?”
“No,” he said too quickly. “Is that something that’s a problem for your co-op—the government poking around?”
He was worried about the government. She tilted her head back and rubbed her temple. “You are a criminal, aren’t you?”
His gaze snapped to hers. “No. Why would you think that?”
“Because why else would you ask if the government is a problem for us?”
His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “I told you I had to leave my job because of a data entry issue.”
“The government wouldn’t chase you down for that. They have more important things to do.”
He shrugged. “How would I know that? I haven’t had a lot of experience being a fugitive.”
Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he’d been a straight arrow all of his life, and the threat from his boss had made him panic. Perhaps she’d read too much into that confident swagger of his that hinted he lived by his own rules. “So why did a rich city boy decide to become a harvester?”
“I’m not rich. Sorry to disappoint you.” He chewed on his words for a moment. “Before I did data entry, I spent some time as a driver for a senator.”
“Which senator?” She didn’t know much about any of the senators beyond what the news reported. She asked because if someone lied, they usually tripped up in the details.
“Senator Hodges.”
“I haven’t heard of that one.”
The muscles in his jaw flexed. “That’s because terrorists killed him in an attack several years ago. An explosion took down his building.” Enzo’s jaw remained tight. The subject was clearly painful for him, and she’d pushed him into it. Milo’s suspicions had made her act like a jerk.
“Sorry,” she said. “That’s horrible.”
He nodded, looking straight ahead at the road and not at her. All his playfulness had vanished.
They rode in silence for a few minutes. She wanted to say, “If you had connections to a senator, couldn’t someone help you when you got fired?” But she shouldn’t put ideas in his head that might make him want to leave. “Do you have any family around?” she asked.
“No. I’m an only child and both my parents are dead.”
“I’m sorry.” She’d brought up a second clearly painful subject. She ought to have known he didn’t have anywhere he could turn, or he wouldn’t have left the city. She should just be quiet now. Except that would make this ride even more awkward. The dashboard clock showed they still had two and a half hours until they reached their destination.
He glanced at her. “You’re lucky you have so much family around.” The pain in his expression had been replaced by curiosity. “Tell me more about them. What do Milo and Gregor do when they’re not hazing newcomers?”
He probably wanted to change the subject from his past. She was happy to oblige. She talked about her brothers for half an hour—things that Enzo would find out on his own anyway. No harm in that. Milo was the mechanic in the family, he’d been married for eight months, and he could take down a cow for branding without breaking a sweat.
Gregor knew everything there was to know about crop rotation, soil pH, and how to prevent any number of plant ailments. Her mother had a nursing background and took care of most illnesses and accidents that popped up. She was also in charge of rotating help through the kitchen to cook meals for the harvesters.
To Enzo’s credit, he seemed interested in her family. And interested in her. He kept asking her questions about herself and the places she’d worked. Maybe it was a mistake to tell him that she’d helped deliver calves on more than one ranch. Descriptions of how she’d had to untangle hooves weren’t really romantic subjects. But he didn’t laugh when she told him she didn’t like eating beef because she always thought of the calves’ big brown eyes.
He asked her how the family had rescued Callum, and even though she hated thinking about that day, she found herself opening up and telling Enzo everything that had happened—except that her father had told her to take the matches.
“I still feel bad that I stood there frozen. Zia and Milo were so fearless the entire time. I should be more like that.” As soon as she said the words, she regretted saying them. She should be trying to impress Enzo, not giving him an exposé on her shortcomings.
His eyes remained understanding, though. “Most people would hesitate in that situation, especially when it meant burning someone who might be a captive. I’m sure he wasn’t, by the way. The other captives would’ve been upset about his death if he’d been one of them. They weren’t, were they?”
“No,” she said and felt a little better about the fact.
“Is this the first time Milo or Zia have done something like this? I mean, do they have more experience with hard situations?”
What an odd question. “That was the first time any of us had to escape from slavers.” She suddenly realized why Enzo was asking. “Living in the country has its challenges, but it usually isn’t that dangerous. As long as we travel as a group, and keep our weapons on us, people leave us alone. You don’t have to worry.”
As though her words had challenged fate, a few minutes later the Jeep’s engine began sputtering. Something under the hood hissed. Enzo slowed down, his brows furrowing at the dashboard. “The radiator light came on.”
Charity scooted over to get a better look, and her stomach sank. The symbol was indeed glowing, and the engine was running hot.
Enzo continued to slow the Jeep. “When was the last time someone checked the radiator fluid?”
“Milo checks all the vehicles before we leave.”
Enzo guided the Jeep to the side of the road and stopped. The trucks ahead of them kept going, unaware of their detour. She tried her phone in the faint hope it would have service. No such luck. She had no way to let her family know they’d pulled over.
Enzo found the button to pop the hood. “Milo’s not the sort to take a joke so far he’d leave the two of us stranded out here, would he?”
“No. My mother would kill him if he did.” Charity glanced around the trees that lined the road. No sign of anyone. And really, what were the chances that raiders or slavers would be in the exact spot where their car had problems?
Still, she held the Glock tightly.
The two climbed out of the Jeep and propped open the hood. He unscrewed the radiator cap and checked the level. Low. This just kept getting better.
“There must be a leak,” Enzo said. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a spare radiator hose in the back of the Jeep.”
She shook her head. “If we have any, they’d be with Milo.” She glanced down the road, the last truck in the caravan was long gone.
Enzo wiped a stray spot of grease off his fingers. “Call him and ask.”
“There’s no service out here. Only farming compounds and cities have cell phone towers.”
He cocked his head. “You roam around the countryside and don’t have a satellite phone?”
Spoken like someone who’d never been poor. “Those are expensive.” Besides, the government could track phones. Their family continually switched them out.
His eyebrows were still lifted in disbelief. “You don’t have any way to contact people in case of emergency?”
“The last truck will notice we’re not behind them anymore, and they’ll let the others know. Someone will come back for us soon.” She cast another look down the empty road. No one had noticed their absence yet. “If the problem is that the fluid is low, can we put water in?”
“Yes, but we’ve got an hour’s drive still, and it will leak the entire way.”
She strode to the back of the Jeep and pulled the water bottles from her pack. “Then it’s a good thing we brought extra.”
His gaze flicked to the bottles in her hand and for a moment his eyes narrowed. The expression left his face so quickly, she wondered if she’d imagined it. He smiled and took the bottles from her. “Yes, it’s a good thing.”
The two made it to the farm, but just barely, and because they used not only Enzo’s and Charity’s water but her family’s too. Charity had been right about her mother noticing their absence. She’d turned around to find them.
The drive wasn’t the peaceful, romantic sort Charity had hoped for, but on the plus side, they made it there safely. Enzo should’ve been happy with their preparation of bringing extra water.
But some of his easy manner left after that. There was a strain in the conversation that she didn’t understand and couldn’t even pinpoint. Maybe he’d simply realized that life with harvesters would be nothing like the pampered life he’d led in the city.