BooksBarbecue
Back The Runaway
Chapters (80)
  1. Cover
  2. TITLES BY NICK PETRIE
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  79. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  80. What’s next onyour reading list?

“Of course it affects me. It makes me sad, okay?” He sighed. “I didn’t want her to die. But she was a cop, she swore the oath, she knew the risks. Also, when she saw the open gate, she could have kept driving, but she didn’t. She stuck her nose into something that was none of her business. And in this life, there are consequences.”

“Roy.”

“No, listen. This is how it is, honey. It was her or me. Actually, the fact that you saw her from that window and ran to get me? That was absolutely the right move. You gave me time to control the situation. Five more minutes and she’d have called for backup. We could all be in jail or dead right now.”

He laughed. He actually laughed.

“I really owe you, honey. We all do. I knew you were something special.”

Helene felt like she was going to throw up.

He slowed for the curve. “I was a cop, too, remember? I swore the same oath she did. To protect and serve. Well, now I’m a thief, so I have to protect and serve myself.” He put his hand on her thigh. “But I’m looking out for you, too. Because we’re married, honey. ’Til death do us part, remember?”

Her stomach lurched. Suddenly sweating, she tasted the rush of saliva. Roy must have seen something in her face because he hit the brakes hard. She opened her door and leaned out and vomited a thick, sour stream of sickness, over and over until there was nothing left inside.

“You done?” Roy handed her the bottle of water from the center console. “Feels better, right? I used to puke after every job, but not anymore. Like I said, give it time. You get used to it.”

Helene didn’t want to get used to it. When she got her hands on her backpack again, she was going to get the hell away from him.

He leaned across her to the glove box and fished around until he found a plastic truck-stop travel kit with a tiny toothpaste and a new toothbrush still in its package. “Here you go.”

She was aware again of how big Roy was, how he filled the cab of the truck. The travel kit looked tiny in his hands. The hands that had broken that poor woman’s neck.

She realized now that he could do the same to her any time he wanted.

Like she was nothing at all.

“Oh, Roy.” She put her face in her hands. “Thank you. I’m so sorry.”

It would help if she could cry, she thought. It didn’t take much.

Roy put his strong arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.

“It’s okay, honey,” he said. “I’ve got you now.”

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