Run To You

killing rage and Pantera made her head implode. As she watched his thumbs tap the steering wheel to the heavy beat of Anthrax, she wondered if he took steroids. She doubted it, because while his arms were big, they didn’t look roid bloated. Although thick, he had an actual neck between his head and shoulders, and last night she’d felt his erection against her belly and he didn’t seem to suffer from shrinkage. Thinking about his lack of shrinkage made her think about her cotton shirt floating about her in the water, brushing her skin, her legs and breasts as he devoured her mouth.
    Devoured. That was the word for his kiss. Devoured, then pushed away.
    But it was best not to even think about his obvious lack of shrinkage and devouring kiss. Thinking about it stirred a knot of hunger in her stomach and a question in her mind.
    Was Superman super in bed? Not that it mattered. She’d stayed a virgin for twenty-eight years and wasn’t about to give it up to the sergeant.
    To keep her mind off Superman and his super bed, Stella plugged her music back into her ear and dialed in Lady Gaga. She answered a few text messages, then dropped her phone into her backpack, bored out of her mind. She glanced over at Beau, at the strong line of his jaw and profile of his nose and lips. He had a nice mouth. Strong. Devouring. She bet he was good at more than kissing.
    She folded her arms across her chest. Obviously bored and out of her flipping mind, she looked out the passenger window. She hit the window button and the glass slid down a few inches. Beau had told her she should think about what was “on deck.” Like her sister. The wind hit her face and she backed the glass up a few degrees. She hadn’t seen a picture of Sadie in a really long time and she wondered if the two of them looked anything alike. Probably not, since they both resembled their mothers.
    Her anxiety leaked out her fingertips and she tapped the window button. Tap. Tap. Up. Down. She wondered what Sadie would see when she looked at Stella. Her father’s bastard child or a sister? Tap. Tap. Up. Down. Would she see their father’s blue eyes or Stella’s darker skin? Would she see a white woman or Hispanic? Tap. Tap. Up. Down. Would she see a person who’d never really fit in anywhere no matter how hard she’d tried?
    Once again her ear bud was pulled from her ear and Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep” was replaced by air racing past and rumbling through the window. The wind vibrated the inside of the SUV and pierced her eardrums with a super high-pitched whistle.
    He was back to being grumpy and sent her a frosty stare from the corners of his eyes. Without a word he took control from his side of the car, rolled the window up, and locked it like she was a five-year-old.
    Well, she felt as if she was five years old again. Five years old when she had no control over her life.
    “When are we stopping for the night?” she asked as she flexed her shoulders.
    “I was planning on driving straight through to New Orleans, but I can’t take much more.”
    She knew the feeling. Her butt had fallen asleep just after they’d crossed the Chattahoochee.

Chapter Eight
    S he was a colossal pain in the ass. An even bigger pain in the ass than he’d first anticipated, and he could not wait to dump her in Texas and bug the hell out.
    Beau raised his whiskey on ice to his lips and took a swallow as he pointed to the six of spades on the blackjack table in front of him. He sat at a table inside the Biloxi Hard Rock Hotel and Casino because he hadn’t been able to take it anymore.
    The female dealer in a maroon blouse turned over a four and Beau sliced his hands across his cards and stayed with twenty. The dealer moved to the next player, in a god-awful flamingo print shirt and slicked back white hair. The guy’s wife sat next to him chattering on about the stuffed snapper and crawfish étouffée at a restaurant across the street. Beau lowered his glass. Stella didn’t like to fly. She didn’t like the bus. She worried about stupid things like apple cores and roadkill. She sang and sighed and played games with irritating sound effects on her iPad. To top it off, she rolled down the window just enough to fill the SUV with a brain-slapping wind and an ear-jabbing whistle. Beau had been through SERE training. Been subjected to simulated prisoner of war camp. Been deprived of food and sleep and pushed to his mental and physical breaking point, but he didn’t recall