Page 38

Allie

M y tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth when I wake up, and my vision is blurry. I’m still in my Halloween costume, but I’m belted into the passenger’s side of a sedan that’s racing down a dark highway.

Country music plays on the radio, and cigarette smoke filters to my nose. I have to blink a few times to clear the haze from my eyes.

My wrists sting like the skin is being torn, and when I shift in my seat, I realize they’re zip-tied together.

Then it all comes rushing back—me running away, being chased by a gorilla, and when I look to my left, my chest sinks.

Rip is driving.

His hand is propped on the wheel, and the wind ruffles his graying, light-brown mullet from a crack in the window.

Birth control . This is why I make sure the kids know all about it and how to use it. I wouldn’t trade my precious son for anything in the world, but I’d sure trade being tied to this loser forever .

He takes a pull off a cigarette and glances over at me. “Morning, sunshine—or should I say evening?”

I should be afraid. I should be crying and terrified that I’ve been kidnapped by my ex-con ex-husband, who is now driving like a bat out of hell to God knows where in the middle of the night.

Instead, my dread morphs into anger.

Peeling my dry lips apart, my voice is as rough as sandpaper. “What the fuck have you done?”

“Whoa…” He has the nerve to give me a sly smile.

“That’s not the sweet Allie I remember. And you look so pretty in that dress, with your hair all pulled up like that.

It reminds me of a hot summer day in south Louisiana.

You’d be walking around the house in short shorts and one of my white undershirts with no bra.

” He whistles through his teeth. “You always were a sexy little thing. My New Orleans lady.”

“I’m your New Orleans nothing.” My voice cracks as I try to fight. “You can stick those memories up your ass. You’re going to jail for this.”

“Now, don’t sell yourself short, darlin. You are not nothing.” He grins, and the streetlight reflects off the gold cap on his right canine. “Remember that time you nursed me back to health? You only do something like that when it’s true love.”

“Or true terror,” I snap.

Yes, I remember very well the night he was shot in the stomach during a drug deal gone wrong. I was sure he was going to bleed to death, and he wouldn’t let me take him to the hospital. He knew he’d be arrested for possession, and this time it was enough to send him away for a long, long time.

Instead, he made me bring him back to our little shotgun house hidden away on the back streets of Uptown by the bend in the river.

“You took care of me,” he opines, conjuring a fantasy far different from what really happened. “You changed my bandages and kept watch over me until I was back on my feet. ”

“You nearly died twice. Then you got an infection.”

I shudder remembering how scared I was that he’d die on me. What would I do then?

I was sure I’d go to jail for being his accomplice, even though I wasn’t involved at all in any of his crimes.

I only found out the hard way that my husband was a real criminal and not just a bad boy with tattoos who rode a motorcycle and cut hair for a living.

When he didn’t die, the first thing I did was go online to figure out a way to divorce his ass and get as far away from New Orleans as possible.

“We were a regular Bonnie and Clyde.” He’s still going.

“I never signed up to be your Bonnie.” I throw cold water on that fantasy. “Bonnie and Clyde ended up dead, you idiot.”

It took all my creative skills to hide his behavior from Austin, who was too young to understand why strange people would show up in the middle of the night.

“You’re still my girl, Allie. I never would’ve signed those divorce papers if you hadn’t got me drunk.” He has the nerve to sound hurt. “Why’d you do that?”

“To get away from you.” My voice is coming back with force. “To get Austin away from you. To give him a chance at a good life.”

“Well, it broke my heart.”

“It did not ,” I snap. “You only care because if I’d still been your wife, they wouldn’t have been able to make me testify against you in federal court.”

He doesn’t answer right away, and I know I’m right. Selfish bastard.

Then all of a sudden, he rears back and slams his fist against the dash with a roar that makes me jump in my seat. My wrists are still bound, and I swallow the fear in my throat.

As long as we were together, Rip never hit me or Austin. He’d get angry at times and break shit, but he never hurt us. If it got really bad, he’d smoke a blunt or take a pill—or both, and zone out for the rest of the night.

But he’s been at Angola for seven years. I don’t know what he’s like now.

“That’s why you’re going back with me.” He glares, and a different light is in his eyes, a desperate gleam. It chills my blood. “You’re going to tell that judge your testimony was false. They forced you to say all those things, and I’m innocent.”

“You think a judge is going to believe a word I say when you’ve broke parole, kidnapped me, and dragged me across state lines to change my story?” Shaking my head, I lean back on the seat. “They’ll spot that lie a mile away.”

He drops his speed, and we’ve reached the turn to cross the causeway over Lake Pontchartrain. We’re sitting at a red light, and it’s the first time I’ve seen him in some light.

He’s lost weight. His features are sharper, and the muscles in his arms are more pronounced. His jaw is tight, and his thin lips tremble as he takes another pull off his cigarette.

It’s not a tremble of fear. It’s more a tremble of tension, of someone who’s right on the edge. It can’t be withdrawals, as I’m pretty sure he didn’t have drugs in jail.

“I’m not going back there.” He exhales a growl as he says the words.

“How are you not going back to jail after this? You’ll be lucky if they don’t bring the FBI in on your ass.”

He snatches my upper arm so hard, a yelp slips from my lips. “They’re not bringing in anybody because you’re not going to say I kidnapped you. You came to me on your own.”

His white-blue eyes fire with anger, and I catch my breath. I’m not so sure he won’t hurt me this time.

Thankfully, the light turns green, and the car behind us honks their horn. His eyes flicker to the rearview mirror, and he releases me.

“Fuck you, motherfucker!” he yells, sticking his arm out the window and flipping the bird .

They lean on the horn, and he pulls his arm in, taking the left to get on the long bridge that connects Mandeville to New Orleans. I shift in my seat, and he throws his cigarette out and rolls up the window.

“You’re going to tell them you came to me because you were worried about me.” He speaks as if he’s making up my story on the spot. “You felt bad, and you wanted to make it right.”

“How did I come to you?” My tone is cynical. “Tell me how I did that when my car is in Newhope.”

“This is your car.” He motions to the Malibu, and I frown.

“This isn’t my car.”

“I rented it in your name in Daphne.”

My back straightens, and I struggle to scoot around in my chair. “How the hell did you do that without my permission?”

“You never changed your name.” He looks at me like I’m the dumb one. “Your name is still Allie Sinclair, and I still have our marriage license.”

My jaw drops, and I have no words. It never occurred to me he could possibly do something like this, but we are in Small-town, USA, where everybody trusts everybody.

It doesn’t hurt that this asshole can be a charming motherfucker when he puts his mind to it. Who knows what all he could get away with?

“I have to say, not changing your name feels like a not-so-subtle hint you still want to be my wife.”

That does it.

“I do not want to be your wife. I wouldn’t be your wife if you paid me a million dollars. Hell, I wouldn’t be your wife for a billion dollars. I didn’t change my name because of Austin.”

“Methinks she doth protest too much.” He smirks, rolling his eyes.

I’m so angry my face is hot. “I didn’t change it so Austin and I would have the same last name. If I could change his last name, I would.”

I’d change it to a name like Bradford. I’d change it to the name of the best man I know. My throat thickens, and I inhale a shaky breath.

Thinking of Jack is the one thing that could bring me to tears, and I can’t break down. The last thing I want to do is show any sign of weakness.

“I’ve been watching my boy play football.” He pulls out another cigarette and taps it against the back of his hand before slipping it between his lips. “It’s how I found you.”

“Wha…” My chest quivers at the thought. “Have you been coming to the games?”

“Nah, they got the highlight reels on TV.” He lights the cigarette, taking a deep inhale before blowing the smoke in the direction of that crack in the window. “He sure is talented. He must take after his old man.”

He is nothing like you , I don’t say out loud. No point poking this unpredictable bear.

“Once you clear my name, I plan to be at all his games.”

“That’s a switch.” I look out the window at the dark waters. “You never cared about being a father to him before.”

“That’s not how you felt when we got married.”

“I married you because I was young and stupid. I thought I had to make it work. Now I know better. Now I know what a real father looks like.”

“Like that coach you’re fucking?”

“That coach I’m fucking is ten billion times a better father than you.” My eyes flash, and I snap. “You’re never going anywhere near Austin. You’ll never drag him down to your level, because I’ll never clear your name.”

His hand shoots out, and he grabs my face in a grip that makes my eyes water. “I told you, I’m not going back there.”

He shoves me so hard, my head bounces off the glass window, and I see stars. Pain radiates through my skull, but dread filters through my veins when he pulls out a gun.

“They’ll have to kill me first.”