Heist 2 Page 18

  “I . . . I’m soooo cold,” Johnnie whimpers as I cradle her in my arms.

  “I know, princess. So am I.” I swallow hard and get moving against the rain and gusting wind. There is a good chance that our asses could simply freeze to death out here and it could be weeks or months before anyone finds our frozen corpses.

  “I’m sorry,” Johnnie keeps crying, trying her best to hold onto me.

  “Please stop apologizing,” I tell her. “Put all the blame on me.” As usual. It’s been a long time since anything I’ve planned has gone right. I don’t know what in the hell possessed me to believe that this jailbreak would be any different. My best friend betrayed me. Not once, but clearly several times. I’ve disappointed my grandmother and it looks like I’m going to fail my daughter.

  The voice in the back of my head keeps telling me to be grateful for the miracle of getting out of that damn river. We have no idea how far the cold current carried us. If I had my guess, it was more than a couple of miles. One thing for sure, we were both human popsicles by the time we were able to drag ourselves out of there.

  Johnnie broke down when I told her that we had to keep moving. But we didn’t have a choice. She managed about a mile by herself and when it was clear that she couldn’t go any further, of course I wasn’t going to just leave her out there in the middle of nowhere. Since I’m a big guy, I scooped her up and carried her.

  The rain is one thing, but the wind is a killer. The way these thick tree branches keep whipping across my face and arms, I’m going to look like I’ve been in a fight with Freddy Kruger if we ever get out of here.

  About another mile, I’m sure Johnnie has fallen asleep. That or she drifted into a coma. I can’t stop to tell which at the moment. A few more steps and then suddenly I’m standing in the backyard of a brick ranch house. There’s not a single light on, but that doesn’t mean that the owners aren’t simply fast asleep inside.

  “Johnnie,” I whisper, bouncing her in my arms to try and wake her.

  Thankfully, she stirs. “Huh?”

  “Look.” I nod toward the house.

  She turns her head and then sighs. It’s possibly our second miracle.

  “I’m going to go and check it out,” I tell her and then set her on her feet.

  “Be careful,” she whispers, slinking over to a nearby tree and waiting for what I find out.

  Quickly, I comb the entire perimeter and then peek through all of the windows. “It doesn’t look as though anyone is here,” I say, returning to the backyard. “Can you walk?”

  She nods and then follows me to the back door. In no time, I’m able to break us in. The heat in the house is a welcome relief. Neither of us wastes time stripping out of our wet clothes and throwing them into the wash. We also don’t blink an eye in hopping into a hot shower together to wash the goop from the river off our bodies.

  After toweling off, Johnnie strips blankets off the beds and I risk starting a fire in the fireplace.

  “What are we going to do if these people return home?” she asks as we cuddle up in front of the flames.

  “To tell you the truth, I have no fucking idea,” I answer honestly. At the moment, I can’t remember another time when I’ve been this exhausted. I can’t even process our naked bodies being pressed together. We’re more concerned about getting warm. The cold seems to be in our bones.

  Johnnie has it the worst.

  I do what I can by holding her close and rubbing her back and arms until we fall asleep. According to the clock over the fireplace, I get a solid five hours. Still tucked beneath my chin and sleeping like a log is Johnnie. Easing my head back, I take a good look at her sleeping face and marvel at just how flawless she really is even without a stitch of makeup.

  When I brush a kiss against her forehead, she stirs and moans softly. Smiling, I brush the second kiss against her upturned nose and get the same response. So, of course, the third kiss is planted squarely on her full lips. This time, I’m the one that moans.

  Johnnie slides her long arms up and around my neck.

  I take it as an open invitation. With no resistance or protest, I roll her over onto her back and knee open her legs. Breaking our kiss, I move my lips under her chin and down her graceful neck. In the back of my head, I know that she can stop me at any time, but I’m praying that she doesn’t.

  The odds improve in my favor when I plop a hard nipple into my mouth and she arches her back to give me even better access. I don’t know if she’s forgiven me or she’s allowing herself to be swept up into the moment. Selfishly, I’ll accept either one.

  As I dive between her luscious mounds of pecan-brown skin, Johnnie releases a light, feathery moan. When I slide into position, her legs fall east to west. This lets me know that she’s fully awake and is aware of what’s about to go down. Once I glide into her warm, wet pussy, those same legs then wrap around my hips. We go at it slow and deep—and long. I don’t know why it is, but I’m addicted to the smell of her skin, the way she tastes, and definitely to the way she feels.

  We go at it from every position and before I know it, we’re both slick with sweat and our knees ache with rug burns. When we’re done, we cuddle back up and pepper kisses on each other until she falls back asleep. The next time I open my eyes, a soft light is coming from the living room’s back door.

  We can’t stay here. When I try to pop up, I belatedly remember that Johnnie is still sleeping right up under me. I pause for a few quiet seconds to drink in her beauty and wonder why is it that I still see a future with her. That shit is impossible now. After I get Nana Gloria the money for Tyler’s surgery, I’ll have to disappear forever or go back to jail. After all of this, they’ll never let me out of there.

  The money. Snapping out of my little daydream, I try to ease my arm out from around Johnnie without waking her up. The moment I manage to get it halfway out, her eyes flutter open.

  I freeze and then force on a smile like I’d been caught with my hands in the cookie jar.

  “Morning,” she coos.

  “Morning.” When it looks like she’s not in any hurry to get up, I’m forced to remind her, “Uh, I need to get going.”

  Her smile drops with disappointment as she sits up.

  Still, I don’t think that my speaking in singular terms registers with her. We rush to toss our clothes into the dryer and then rush to take yet another shower after last night’s lovemaking session. While I scramble through the house for things that would be useful on the last leg of my road trip, Johnnie rummages through these people’s kitchen to fix us a quick breakfast. Overall, I find about thirty bucks in cash and some cheap jewelry in the main bedroom. I take the cash and leave the jewelry.

  When I go to join Johnnie and tell her about my decision to leave her, she is standing in the living room in front of an old television, looking like she’s lost color. “What’s wrong?”

  “They think that I helped you escape,” she says and then sits down before falling down.

  “What?”

  “The people on the news.” She pointed at the screen. “They’re talking about my visiting you last month and then my disappearing with you. They think I’m in on it.”

  I turn my gaze toward the screen. I recognize Boss Hog from the convenience store yesterday.

  “I knew there was something suspicious about those two the moment they walked in here. They were all lovey-dovey when they came in. There’s no doubt in my mind that those two were together.”

  Johnnie groans. “I can’t believe this.”

  The next people the newscasters are trying to talk with are Mr. and Mrs. Charles Robinson. The New York governor looks grim as he stares into the cameras.

  “The only statement our family will like to make at this time is: Johanna, if you’re able, please come home. We know that you’re innocent of these ridiculous charges. As for the monster who has snatched you, I promise that if he’s harmed a single strand of hair on your head, we will slap the entire federal book at him!” />
  A reporter jumps in:

  “Mr. Robinson, what do you say about the possibility of the two fugitives being at the bottom of a river?”

  “I say, we don’t believe it. We won’t believe it until we physically see our daughter’s body.”

  “Humph. So much for my chances of ever meeting the parents,” I joke.

  Johnnie cuts off the television. “Please say that you don’t think any of this is funny.”

  “No. I guess not.” I sigh because this is the perfect time to tell her. “I think that it’s time we part ways.”

  Her attitude melts away. “What?”

  I gesture to the blank television screen. “Look. It’s the only way that we’re going to clear up this confusion. I never planned on bringing you along with me, at the same time I didn’t want to let you go—but this shit is too serious. This is the type of shit that ruins lives. Trust me. I know. You still have a chance to get out of this.”

  “No. I mean.” She glances around. “You just can’t leave me here. I . . . I . . .”

  We both know that there’s no reason for her to continue on with me except, “I don’t want to stay.”

  Stunned, I can only manage to stare at her.

  She sighs as if it’s a huge confession for her. “I understand the danger. I do. I just . . . don’t care anymore.”

  “You can’t know what you’re saying—what you’re suggesting that you’d give up. Your life. Your career. Your family. I can’t ask you to do all of that to live on the run with me.”

  “You don’t have to ask,” she says, standing. “I’m telling you. I don’t want to go back to being just another overpriced lawyer on Wall Street, or a barter chip that links my family to the next generation of political leaders. I don’t want to be a trophy wife to the future governor of the state. I just want . . . to be with you—for however long that is.”

  Once that I read that she’s serious, I’m rushing forward and drawing her into my arms. When our lips seal together, I know that I’ll never let her go as long as she wants to remain at my side. It may be just for another day for all we know, but if we play the few cards we have left right, maybe it can be forever.

  20

  Sam

  “They’re not in the car,” Major Collins announces to our team as well as the other agencies.

  Camera ready, deputy chief can’t mask his shock. “How in the hell?”

  “Clearly the current carried them out,” I state the obvious and then turn back to my crew. “All right. You know what to do. We’re going due south in the direction of the current. This news does not rule out the possibility that our fugitives are deceased but if there’s a chance that they climbed out, we need to know where.”

  “Well. Hold on now, little lady,” Carter snaps. “This is still my district and my team trumps yours.”

  My head snaps back in his direction. Behind me, Greg groans. “I’m sorry. What was that?” My fierce look is enough for him to backtrack—sort of.

  “I don’t mean any disrespect. I’m just saying how it is. If your boy is out here, I aim to catch him. No New York city slickers know these parts like my guys do. You’re more than welcome to join in, but I’ll be the one issuing the orders.”

  “All due respect, chief, but this is hardly time for us to engage in a pissing contest.”

  “Hold on now. That’s not what’s happening, I’m just telling you what is what.” He cuts another look toward the bank of cameras. This is definitely his moment to shine and he’s hell bent to take advantage of it.

  Frankly, there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. This mid-south cowboy outranks me and as long as we’re in his territory, he’s well within his right to seize the investigation from me. In my fourteen years in the department, I’ve never seen it done. All departments offer their assistance when a fugitive crosses into their districts, but usually the case remains with the initial department conducting the search.

  “Do we have a problem?” he asks, grinning.

  Forced to eat a healthy chuck of humble pie in front of my team, I force on my same tired-ass smile. “No problem at all.” Marching away, I have no intention of taking orders from this country peacock. He’s the main reason we weren’t searching last night. The proud man was so convinced Banks and Robinson were still in that car.

  “Join in with the search,” I tell my five-man crew. “But if you see anything first, you come to me.” I make sure to make eye contact with each of them. “Do I make myself clear?”

  “Got it,” they confirm in unison.

  As they branch off to blend in with the sheriff’s department, the FBI, and the local US Marshals, I scoop out my cell and place a call to my own boss. I give him a brief update and he’s equally struck by the Tennessee’s district deputy chief’s call, but makes the formal call for our team not rocking the boat.

  Less than an hour later, while Carter is giving his umpteenth interview to the press, muddy footprints are discovered about a mile from the bridge. A clear track is visible seen leading toward a forest.

  “A mile,” I mumble under my breath. A lousy mile. They now have hours on us. The hope is that they’re still on foot. Plus, after being in that freezing water, and last night’s weather will also play in our favor. I’ll get my man and Deputy Chief Carter can get his glory.

  21

  Johnnie

  I can’t turn back now. That shit is clear. The thing is I keep waiting for this huge wave of regret to wash over me, but so far, all I feel is relief. Relief that I’ve finally admitted the truth to Harlem—and to myself. If somehow I do survive this shit, I’ll probably be thrown into an insane asylum instead of jail.

  Still, it’s the risk that I’m willing to take because, at the end of the day, I’ve felt more alive with Harlem in the last twenty-four hours than I’ve felt in the entire five years that he’d been locked down in prison. I love him. I forgive him. I want to be with him for however long fate allows.

  Rumbling down the back roads in this loud, rusty half-century-old pickup truck, I’m huddled up under Harlem on a long single seat, at peace. The gray clouds have parted and there’s hardly a soul on the road. I don’t have any idea exactly where we are going and what we’re supposed to do once we get there. I don’t think that Harlem knows either, because he’s so quiet.

  An hour later, the quiet worries me. Could he be having second thoughts? Is he concerned that I will slow him down? Somehow I have to assure him that won’t happen. Now that I’m in this, I’m in it for the long haul. Or he’s thinking about that man’s face from the news. The other escaped prisoner. Isaiah Kane. If memory serves me correct, he’s the man Harlem was busted with on the arms dealing charge. They were tried separately so I didn’t pay too much attention to the other trial. But I’m pretty sure I’m right about that detail. Did they plan all of this together? If so, why was Harlem so upset?

  I want to ask the big questions, but at the same time, I want him to willingly tell me what’s going on. I want him to trust me.

  By noon we’ve coasted out of Tennessee and shot through Alabama.

  “We’re almost there,” Harlem says, breaking the silence.

  “Okay.” I curl my head up at him. “Where is that?” We both know that I’m really asking him to officially put his trust in me. That’s a giant leap for our relationship. I love him despite that there is a huge part of his life that I’ve never seen or been a part of.

  “We’re going to pick up some money that I have stashed away for retirement,” he confesses. “Money that I’d stacked from a few heists some years back.”

  My heart leaps at the word heist, but I remain calm on the outside.

  “I messed up. I planned for retirement, but never for getting caught. I didn’t set a nest egg aside that would easily be accessible to my grandmother and my little girl. All this time I’ve been locked down, she’s been slowly losing everything, trying to take care of Tyler and her healthcare needs.”

  Surprised, I pull back.
“You said that she needed surgery?”

  Harlem’s profile hardens as he tries to man up and control his emotions. “She has a heart condition. With these damn hospitals, money talks and bullshit walks.”

  “So this doesn’t have anything to do with Isaiah Kane? You’re just trying to get money to your little girl?”

  Within a snap, Harlem’s sadness is replaced with anger. “Actually, this has everything to do with Isaiah.”

  Now I’m really confused.

  “He’s going after my money.”

  I open my mouth to ask another question when understanding suddenly slams into me. “Oh.”

  Harlem continues. “Someone pulls some strings to get him scheduled for an early release. When word spread through the prison grapevine, I knew exactly what was next in his plans. He owes a lot of money to a lot of people—a lot of dangerous people.”

  “But aren’t you two friends?”

  “We used to be friends. But I’m certain that he’s willing to throw me and mine under the bus in order for him to keep breathing. He spent and gambled away all of his money and now he believes that he is entitled to my piece of the pie as well.”

  “Wow. I guess it’s not true what they say. There’s no honor among thieves.”

  His laugh surprises both of us. When the laughter fades, he says, “It is what it is.” He looks over at me. “Are you sure you’re still down for all this?”

  “Positive.”

  22

  Sam

  “Damn it! We missed them.” It takes everything I have not to lash out at everyone, especially the current idiot-in-charge Carter. He still seems to be operating under the illusion that he and his team are still in the game. The fugitives’ muddy footprints led a straight path to an isolated residence embedded in the woods. There’s little doubt that they broke and entered the house, but we have no idea how long they stayed.

  It doesn’t look like they disturbed much or they were good at cleaning up behind themselves. It doesn’t take much to find the name of the homeowners. Tracking them down is a much harder trick. They could be anywhere, up to and including on vacation. Until then, we have no idea what was taken.