Page 82 of The Spider Queen

A wave of hunger hit me low and fast. I sucked in a breath of air, looked in my rearview mirror, and changed lanes so I could get off at the next exit.

I parked in a fast food joint parking lot, but I didn’t have any money. I didn’t even have an ID on me, I realized. What happened if a cop stopped me?

This was all so fucked up.

Leaning my head against the steering wheel, I tried to breathe through the hunger. When was the last time I’d had solid food?

A shrill ring from the confines of the glove compartment had me shooting out of my seat. I got the latch open and reached inside to pull out a cell phone.

“Hello? Hunter?” I asked.

“Poppy!” His voice was filled with relief. “Where are you?”

I told him.

“Stay put, I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.”

He hung up before I could ask him any questions.

I set the phone aside and pressed the overhead light so I could see what else was in the glove box. Maybe some cash to hit the drive-thru. I was pretty sure my stomach was eating itself.

There was five or six hundred dollars in cash and two passports.

One was Hunter’s.

One was mine.

Why the fuck did he have our passports?

I shoved the passports back into the glove box, grabbed two twenties, and shut the latch. Putting the car into gear, I looked in the rearview mirror and then reversed out of the spot and into the drive-thru lane.

I ordered enough food for three people and ate in the car. I’d just put away my sixth chicken nugget when there was a rap on the passenger window. The sound startled me into spilling the chocolate shake all over the front of my shirt and chin.

I pressed the unlock button and then went for the napkins. Hunter climbed into the car and shut the door.

“You scared me,” I said, dabbing at my face.

“Sorry. How much food did you order?” he teased.

“Shut up,” I snapped. “I don’t know if they fed me at the hospital.”

My statement sobered him. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”

“You’re anything but insensitive,” I muttered. “Mind telling me why our passports are in the glove box?”

He sighed and pointed to a wrapped cheeseburger. “Can I have that? I’m starving.”

I handed it to him and then ate the rest of my fries. We munched away in silence until all the food was gone. I was feeling full and safe, now that Hunter was with me. Adrenaline had kept me going, but now it was leaking out of me, leaving me exhausted and muddle-headed.

“So about the passports—”

“You know what?” I interrupted. “I don’t care right now. I’m exhausted. And disgusting. All I want is a shower and a good night’s sleep.”

“Okay,” he said. “I can make that happen.”

“Thank you,” I said in relief. “You can tell me things tomorrow. If it’ll keep?”

He paused, thinking for a moment. Crumbling up the remains of the fast-food wrapper, he finally nodded. His cell phone rang—not the one I’d found in the glove box. He reached into his pocket and looked at the screen.