Crossing Lines by Adrienne Giordano

9

What the heck?

Faith lay in the grass, her body aching from the fall — both of them — while the acrid stench of burning rubber assaulted her senses.

“My God.”

She inhaled and rib-shredding pain shot straight up her back to her shoulders.

Relax.

She knew what this was. Had felt it before when she’d taken a hard fall and had the wind knocked out of her.

Slowly, she drew a few soft breaths while wiggling her fingers and her toes. Everything in working order. Next, she lifted her extremities and besides a bit of minor pain, all good.

Excellent.

She moved to her side and paused for another breath. Just ahead, bright orange and yellow flashes engulfed the Challenger, the flames twisting and contorting in an oddly beautiful dance.

“Run!”

Shane sprinted toward her, backpack in hand. Thank goodness for those backpacks. Although it’d be a miracle if her laptop had survived.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

He reached her, latching on to her arm and dragging her to her feet and holy hell her body rejected that in all sorts of ways.

“I’m good. You’re okay?”

“Yes.”

“Then haul ass,” he said. “We need to get out of here before the cops and whoever planted that bomb show up.”

Minus a car, the swath of woods beside them would be their best option for staying out of sight.

“We can cut through the trees,” she said. “Once we get some cover, I’ll check my phone and see what’s on the other side.”

Shane’s longer legs carried him easily across the grass while Faith double-timed to keep pace. Her foot landed in a hole and sent her stumbling.

“Ow. Shit.”

Momentum carried her and she fought against her shifting weight. No going down. Not again. Another fall meant potentially breaking something and they didn’t have time for that.

Shane spun back, spotted her going over and halted. She tumbled forward, but the solid wall of him kept her upright.

“Whoa,” he said.

“I hit a rabbit hole or something.”

“Can you still run?”

She lifted her foot and circled it. It hurt like hell, but she could move it and, more importantly, put weight on it. If she’d broken a bone, they’d be screwed.

The trees were right there. Maybe another twenty yards. Once they got there, they could huddle up, take a minute to rest and let the adrenaline rush subside. Maybe get their bearings.

What kind of life was this?

Not one she wanted. But . . . Shane.

He’d helped her. Literally just saved her life and God only knew how he’d recognized the car was about to blow. His paranoia had prevented them from becoming kindling.

“I’m good. Let’s get to those trees.”

She hobbled along, the kink in her ankle having mercy and working free with each step.

Life in the field had taught her to be grateful for the little and not-so-little things. Not only was she still mobile, she wasn’t charred from that explosion.

They walked farther into the woods, each checking behind them until the street disappeared. If they couldn’t see the street, no one on said street could see them.

“We should be good for a few minutes.” He pointed to a tree stump. “Take a seat.”

“I’m all right.”

“Sit.”

Bossy, bossy. Still, she wouldn’t mind a look at her foot. She set her backpack down and dropped to the ground beside it. Shane squatted in front of her, his hands already in motion yanking up the hem of her jeans.

He wrapped his fingers around her ankle, the heat from his touch shooting straight through her sock and up her leg. She flinched.

“That hurt?”

“No.”

“You flinched. If it hurt, tell me.”

“It didn’t hurt. I’m not . . .”

“What?”

“It’s . . . nothing.” Dammit. How to explain this without it being a thing. “Really. I’m fine.”

He gave her a look. Maybe irritation. “Don’t do that,” he said. “I need to know your status. Are you good or not?”

Her status. Ha. Terrified, confused . . . needy. And for someone who’d survived on her own for so long, that needy thing was a pisser. She grabbed her backpack, dug through the front pocket for her phone. “I’m fine. I wasn’t ready for you to grab . . . no . . . not grab. I didn’t . . .”

She shook her head, closed her eyes for a second and focused. She opened her eyes again, found him staring at her, his crystal blue gaze direct. “I wasn’t ready for you to touch me. That’s all. After Venezuela, I’m jumpy.”

He kept his hand in place — at least he hadn’t snatched it away like she’d fried it. “I’m sorry. I should have — ”

“Don’t apologize. You’ve been nothing but kind. I know you wouldn’t hurt me. I just reacted.”

“I’d never hurt you,” he said. “At least, not intentionally. Can I look at this ankle?”

She nodded because, really, what could be so wrong with her partner, her teammate, checking an injury? And, at the same time, getting her comfortable with a man having his hands on her again.

A double win.

Gently, he worked her sneaker off her foot and rolled her sock down.

She lifted her phone. “I’ll see where we are and how we can get out of here.”

He squeezed her ankle. “Does this hurt?”

“No.”

Another squeeze. “What about this?”

And, holy cow, the man’s hands were magic. All calloused but gentle and sending tiny shock waves to parts of her that hadn’t had that particular yummy feeling in way too long.

She gave up on her phone and looked at him. His gazed was fixed on her ankle, those amazing hands moving over her while his bottom lip slightly protruded.

For the most part, Shane kept his features neutral, never giving away his thoughts. But there were times, like now, when he offered glimpses of himself.

Couple that with sleeping next to him after watching I Love Lucy reruns and her hormones were unleashing some kind of weird venom that made her want things she couldn’t have.

These thoughts. They wouldn’t do her any good. As much as Shane affected her, as much as she wouldn’t mind a little passion . . . No future.

The two of them combined? Emotional nightmare. After the lives they’d led, they’d never be comfortable letting their walls down.

And that was a damned shame.

She went back to her phone. “How did you know about the bomb?”

“The speedometer.”

“What about it?”

“It was acting weird all of sudden. Fluctuating.”

Oh, come on.“And that immediately made you think it was a bomb? No offense, but that’s scary.”

He snorted. “When I was Ground Branch, our explosives guy messed around with reverse engineering an electronic detonation device for speedometers. He finally figured it out, but it was screwing with the car’s performance. Frustrated the crap out of him. When the Challenger started acting weird, I panicked.”

“You didn’t panic. You used your experience and came to a correct conclusion. And lucky you did or we’d be dead. I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“How about nearly getting you killed? How about insisting we stop for a sit-down dinner when we only have a few more hours on the road? I was watching for tails the entire day. I missed it. Now, I’ve brought Alfaro right to you.”

He gave her ankle a gentle squeeze before resetting the hem of her jeans and peering at her. “I think you’re good here. And I knew who you were running from. I chose to help you. That’s on me. If this plan works, we’ll both stay alive.”

Shane got to his feet,scanning the area around them. Thick, towering trees kept them hidden from view, but shrieking sirens drew closer. The fire department and cops, no doubt. Someone must have driven by, seen a random car in flames and called 911.

They had to move before cops came looking for the owner of the now toasted car. His foresight on taking the car registered to a dead guy from Wisconsin was a good one.

But what the fuck happened? He’d been careful. Jumping on and off highways, taking rural roads, all the while continually searching for possible tails. And not just him. Faith had been diligent as well. They’d both missed it.

What did that say about their reconnaissance skills?

Eyes still on her phone, Faith pointed to her right. “There are railroad tracks on the other side of these trees. If there’s a station nearby, we can jump on the next train. Maybe it’ll get us to Montgomery.”

After shouldering his backpack, he held out his hands to her, giving her a boost to her feet. “Sirens are getting closer. We’ll get to the tracks, hunker down for a minute and see if we can find a train station.”

Before the car had blown to bits, he hadn’t noticed any activity behind them. Whoever tailed them and blew up his awesome fucking car might not have seen them run into the woods. He hoped.

Faith tapped at her phone. “Tracks should be just ahead.”

They came to a clearing where in another thirty minutes darkness would make the tracks all but invisible. On the other side, the woods continued so they walked on, into the cover of the trees.

“I'll keep watch,” he said. “See if you can find the nearest train station or car rental place.”

She dropped to her knees, slid her backpack to the ground and used it to block the light from her phone in case anyone might be watching.

“Ugh,” she said. “The nearest car rental is ten miles north. A town called Edingville. The closest southerly one is fifteen miles.”

Damn. The closer one was the wrong direction. “What about train stations?”

Faith grunted. “The good news is, according to this map, the tracks go right through the town where the rental place is.”

“What’s the bad news?”

She gestured to the tracks. “These are for freight. No commuter stations close.”

It shouldn’t have shocked him. Why should anything actually go their way? He couldn’t get hung up on it. Bitching about their rotten luck wouldn’t get them a rental car. Shane ran one hand through his hair and blew out a breath.

“We’re fine.” She covered her phone with her hand, then stood and tucked it into her back pocket. “We’ll hoof the ten miles north. It's not the worst idea. Whoever followed us won’t expect us to double back.”

God, he loved a smart woman. “Good. Once we get there, we’ll rent a car and finish the drive.” He pointed north. “Let’s do this.”

Faith walked beside Shane,both staying mostly silent to avoid possible detection on the off chance that someone might be wandering the woods or walking along the tracks in the darkness. They’d been on this path an hour and all she’d seen were trees, trees and more trees. All of them now casting towering shadows from moonlight.

Hello? What kind of wildlife did Alabama have? Would they get eaten out here?

It should have been creepy, but somehow, the quiet — along with two ibuprofen for her sore ankle — soothed her. Calmed her rioting nerves and chaotic thoughts regarding being hunted by a vicious killer.

“It's peaceful,” Shane, the mind reader, said.

“It feels—”

She took a second to organize her thoughts. To figure out what the heck this feeling was. Good? Yes. But it was more than that. Something she hadn’t experienced since . . . when? She thought back. Since Gram died. “It feels simple. Normal.”

“We don't have a lot of either in our lives.”

A clanging noise halted them. A second later the clang turned to a rumble. Rumble, clang, rumble, clang. In unison, they turned. A circle of bright light coming around the bend they’d come from minutes earlier shattered the blackness.

Train.

“We should duck out of sight,” Faith said. “When the train gets here, we’ll be lit up like Broadway.”

Shane’s expression may have been shadowed, but she’d spent enough time with him to recognize his silence, that vast cavern of emptiness between them, meant active thoughts.

“Shane? What are you thinking?”

“I'm thinking we can give that bum ankle of yours a break and cut our travel time.”

Clang, rumble, clang. Clang, rumble, clang.The train and its glowing light drew closer. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out he wanted to turn this thing into a Hollywood stunt by hopping aboard.

“It's probably not moving that fast,” he said. “And we’re traveling light. If your ankle holds up, we’ll run beside it and grab on to one of the handrails. We can cruise along until we get to Edingville. I don't see a downside.”

At that, she laughed. “You mean other than one of us possibly falling off and winding up dead from a skull fracture? Or being sliced in half by a train wheel? You don't see that as a downside?”

He waved off those minor issues. “If you can get out of Venezuela with zero resources, you can hop on a train.”

True.

She peered back at the train. The easy, rhythmic ka-chunk-ka-chunk of churning wheels indicated slow speed. As much as falling off that thing terrified her, they could probably jog beside it and leap right up. It had already been a long few days. Schlepping another five or so miles in pitch black where she might step in another hole and break her already sore ankle wouldn’t conserve her energy.

“If hitching a ride on that thing will get us to wherever we’re sleeping tonight, I'm game.”

Shane lifted his curled fingers for a fist pound. “I like your style. This'll be easy. Freight cars usually have steps and a handrail. I’ll use the flashlight on my phone so you can see where you’re going. Once you’re on, you do the same for me. “

They ducked into the trees out of sight of the conductor until two, three, four cars passed. Whatever this big guy was carrying was liquid because the containers were all round with ladders leading up to the top.

Good news for their purposes.

Shane led her toward the moving train. “Heads up. Not this car, but the next one. There's a handrail. You grab hold and hang on.”

He fired up his phone’s flashlight and swung it to the next car, identical to the one that had just passed.

“On three,” he said, “start running. Grab that ladder.”

He counted down and they ran as Shane held the flashlight steady. Faith’s ankle? Not a fan as evidenced by the incessant pin pricks shooting up her leg. No time for that now.

Faster. More speed.

Eyes on her target, she pumped her legs harder, sucking a breath each time that ankle nearly gave out. Lord, that hurt.

The rail.

Right . . . there.

She reached up, grabbed hold with one, then the other hand and her legs flew out from under her. Whoa! The immediate flying effect made her gasp and a burst of energy sent her system buzzing.

Pull.

Her shoulders seized and her muscles stretched and tightened rebelling against the pressure. Hang on, hang on, hang on. This train meant the difference between resting and not.

Rest. She wanted it. She gripped the rail harder and yanked, dragging her body up, ignoring the ripping sensation in her back. She swung her feet, searching for purchase and — yes! — her sneaker hit something. She peered down to where Shane’s flashlight lit the ladder and its glorious steps.

Holy cow. She did it.

Below her, Shane, still running beside the train, let out a whoop. Clearly, the man was enjoying this. She stepped to the middle of the ladder, gripping the left side, nearly wrapping her body around the rail, praying he had enough room to squeeze behind her. Before she could even get her phone out — ooff — Shane slammed into her from behind, momentum carrying his much bigger body forward. In the darkness, his left hand closed over hers, crushing her fingers while he held on to the opposite rail with his right, all of him cocooning her and her backpack between his arms.

Yowzer.

“Shit.” He let go, moving his hand higher so he could grip the handle. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No. Are you on?”

“I'm good.”

“Oh my God,” she said, laughing. “We just did that.”

“I know! Wicked fun.”

“Says you. You need help, my friend.”

“Probably. But now we get to hang on for the ride.”

Hang on for the ride. Hadn't she been doing that for weeks now? Each day, waking up, flying solo and hoping she’d stay alive long enough to see nightfall. Now, with Shane tucked behind her, she couldn’t deny the difference. This time she wasn’t alone.

How was it possible that they were hanging off the side of a moving freight train and she somehow felt safer than she had in years?

“Hey,” he said, his lips right next to her ear. “Look up.”

She tilted her head up, bumping against his chest. Not alone. A blanket of stars twinkled in a sky so clear no artist would do it justice.

“Wow,” she said. “Stunning.”

She closed her eyes, let her mind and body be still, soaking in the gentle swipe of a warm Alabama wind against her cheeks. Fresh air and the woodsy scent of nature blanketed her and for the first time in weeks her mind slowed. She inhaled and focused on the moment. On being present and thankful for being alive. And for Shane, a man she barely knew but who had risked his own safety to help her.

She peeled her gaze from the sky and peered up at him over her shoulder. “You were right. I’ll enjoy the ride.”