Chapter 18

Sadie

T en minutes later, we pulled into a small gas station two miles off the highway along a wide stretch of empty farmland. Gray clouds covered the sun, casting a gloom over the land. The atmosphere felt heavy—but no snow had fallen onto the cracked asphalt.

As grateful as I was for Keelan not zip-tying my wrists again, the red chafed stripes on my skin itched and throbbed incessantly. If he were to bind me again, I’d bleed.

Just find some damn handcuffs or soft rope already.

After parking, we exited the car, and I stretched my sore legs. Keelan reached out and rolled my sleeves down, so the marks on my wrists wouldn’t be visible.

“Listen, Sade,” Keelan said, holding out his hand to me. “We’re going inside to get a few more snacks that we didn’t see inside the cabin, maybe some cold, fresh food. Once I pay for the gas, we leave. Don’t speak to anyone. Understood? ”

I nodded, taking his rough, warm hand, and followed close behind him, trying my best not to give anything away with my posture or eyes. It had to go smoothly, or there would be death because of me.

Upon entering, the door chimed overhead, and I glanced around. The gas station was tiny and confined, with only one man, possibly a trucker, wearing a red plaid shirt with dark jeans and a ball cap with an American flag etched on it. The man moved slowly toward the back, searching through the racks of beer in the cooler. He lifted his cap to rub his forehead, and I could see his head buzzed close to the scalp beneath the cap, his skin shining under the fluorescent lights. Scars, tattoos, and welts marked his sun-kissed complexion. The man wasn’t much older than us, but his life had clearly thrown a few curveballs at him along the way.

The cashier was a young man, probably in his late teens or early twenties, with a pale complexion and dark freckles adorning his cheeks and nose. He wore a blue polo shirt with the company logo embroidered on the left breast and black khaki shorts. He had dark brown hair and round glasses perched high on his nose. When the bell chimed, the clerk stealthily slid his phone out of view as we walked past. A small TV was on in the background, broadcasting some local news.

We stood out, especially Keelan, a tall man covered in tattoos, walking in with a woman who likely looked meek and terrified despite my best efforts. I tried to school my face into a mask of interest at the rows of candies and other junk food. I felt a little dizzy, and my stomach growled, reminding me I should have eaten those goddamn pancakes .

After selecting his drink, the plaid-shirt man made his way up the chip aisle on the other side from where we stood. He was carrying two water bottles and a bag of chips, flashing a warm smile as he moved to another aisle a few rows away.

“Anything you want to eat, honey?” Keelan asked, squeezing my hand hard in a warning. He was already reading my body language, the intensity of his temper filling the air around us. I offered my best, sweetest smile.

“An iced tea and a turkey sandwich would be great … dear. ”

Keelan smirked at me before pulling me down the aisle toward the coolers. While he gathered my iced tea and an energy drink for himself, I went over to the deli stand a few feet away and grabbed the cold turkey sandwich.

After we gathered everything we needed, Keelan handed me the chilled glass bottle and a few additional snacks he had picked for me to carry.

When we reached the front, I spotted the cashier kneeling next to the shelves of cigarettes, putting away cartons. “Be right with you guys.”

Keelan leaned against the edge of the counter and glared at me. “Princess?” he purred.

“Psycho?” I chirped back with false cheer, giving him a mocking grin.

Keelan tilted his head at me, eyebrows raised at my audacity. Defiantly, I met his gaze, shifting my weight so my left hip was cocked in a stubborn posture.

“Thanks for your patience,” the cashier said, scanning our items and putting them into a bag. “Is that everything?”

“Thirty-five on pump six,” Keelan responded .

After the employee added the fuel to our total, Keelan handed him the money. When we stepped away from the counter, he turned to me.

“I want you to wait over there,” he said, pointing to a small kiosk four feet from the counter. “Can you be a good girl and manage that?”

I pressed my lips together, resisting the urge to scream for help. The fact Keelan was getting away with this was infuriating. I had help right here, ten feet away from me. All the cashier had to do was call the cops, and I’d be free.

“Sure,” I said, biting back the response I wanted to tell him.

Keelan subtly nodded before moving past me toward the magazine rack on the other side of the store, and I walked to the kiosk where the medicine was. I watched him while a few more customers entered the store, my back pressed against a rack. The trucker was in my peripheral, now heading to the counter to pay for his items.

Anxiety squeezed my ribs, crushing my lungs until I struggled to breathe. My mind raced with possible routes I could take to run out and find help. But what if that got everyone in here killed? It would be my fault.

Keelan isn’t even looking at me anymore. It’s like he’s trusting me to be an obedient dog and stay.

The room went silent, a faint ringing in my head as panic and indecision gripped me. Escape was right through that door, but the fear kept my legs rooted. I didn’t know what to do.

What do I do ?

A tap on my shoulder broke apart the echoing tunnel of my thoughts, and I looked from Keelan’s back to the smiling face of the maybe-trucker.

Oh, God.

“Sorry, miss. I’m checking out, but I need to grab some medicine, and you’re blocking them.” His tone was polite, low, and gravelly, but my heart started pounding. Keelan couldn’t see him talking to me.

I blinked, struggling to process his words and move out of the way.

“Can you move a little?” he asked, voice still kind.

“Oh, yes, sorry. Long morning.” My voice was barely above a whisper. I shifted away from the stand to the right when the man reached out and skated his fingers along my belly.

It was intentional.

The fuck?

Immediately, I tensed and took a wider step back, my shoulder hitting the corner of the rack and causing a bottle of meds to fall. Panic surged through me, and I instinctively reached out to catch it. The bottle of iced tea fell from my grip and crashed to the linoleum floor, shattering into shards of glass.

“Shit!” I cursed, kneeling to clean up the glass, but the trucker held steady on my shoulder to guide me away from the mess.

“It’s okay, baby cakes. I got it. You’re gonna cut your pretty self.” The trucker’s grip on my shoulder was firm as he pulled me back, but his hand still lingered on my skin. He then released me to grab the remaining items in my arms. “Let me help you with those.”

“No!” I snapped, my pulse pounding in my ears, each beat a desperate reminder that I was fucked .

Of course, I didn’t want the man touching me, but mostly, I knew Keelan would rearrange the bald man’s face if he didn’t back off.

“It’s okay,” I blurted. “I’ve got it.”

My hands were trembling as Keelan’s familiar presence loomed over me.

“Excuse me,” Keelan said, his voice more controlled than usual, “but did she ask you to place your hands on her?”

The man looked up, meeting Keelan’s stony gaze, and my shoulders stiffened.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“He was just helping me … babe,” I said calmly, trying to tame the beast that was Keelan Blake.

Was the man a creep? Of course, he was. But if Keelan caused a scene, the cops would swarm this place within minutes.

But then again, that was what I wanted … right?

A low growl came from Keelan’s chest, and I reached out, placing my hand on his cheek. “Let it go, Keelan. We can leave.”

“Hey, dude. What’s your deal?” the man asked, backing up a step. “I was just tryin’ to help, like she said.”

Keelan’s eyes left the man’s and looked down at mine. There was a brief pause before Keelan nodded. “Alright, fine,” he said, and I released my breath.

“Great,” I said, looking down at the broken drink. “Um, I need to get a broom or something.”

“It’s okay, miss,” the clerk called from the counter. “I’ll take care of it.”

Keelan nodded to the cashier and grabbed my elbow, marching us out the door and leaving the mess behind .

“You’re hurting me, Keelan. Let go.”

He didn’t let go. In fact, the pressure on my arm only increased.

Why the hell is he acting like I’m the one who did something wrong?

My heart pounded as we made our way back to the car. He shoved me against the driver’s side door, ordering me to stay put. While Keelan filled the tank, my anxiety grew.

“What is wrong with you?” I asked before I saw the creepy man walking out, a small plastic bag in his left hand. He headed across the parking lot toward a lifted blue Dodge pickup truck parked parallel to us.

Keelan looked around, eyeing the corners of the canopy roof above the gas pumps.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Keelan didn’t look at me when he answered. “Looking for the cameras.”

My stomach twisted as he stormed toward the man’s truck.

I know that look. Fuck …

“Keelan!” I shouted and ran after him.

There was no way he was about to kill a man for simply touching me, intentionally or not.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Stop!” I shouted, but it was too late.

Keelan strode up to the man, cuffing the top of his head to knock off the baseball cap before he seized the back of the man’s neck and pulled him back. Then he slammed his face against the window. There was a sickening crunch before the man wailed and tried to grab his broken nose, but Keelan slammed his face into the glass again. The man swore loudly, swinging his arms in an attempt to fight Keelan off.

“Oh, my God!” I cried out, rushing over, but Keelan held up one hand to stop me, while his other hand held the man’s throat. There was blood all over the man’s driver-side door, more blood oozing down his nose and over his lips.

Before I could protest again, Keelan’s hand tightened, and he lifted the man’s chin to reveal his tattoos right below his jaw and along his neck. The ones I had seen in the store. It looked like a couple of letters and a symbol I didn’t recognize.

“You wanna tell her what those mean?” Keelan asked, and I stilled. “Yeah, I was gonna let it slide for you touching her without her consent. In fact, it took a lot of fucking control not to snap your neck the second I saw you place your greasy hands on her. I thought, naw, you weren’t worth my time. But then … then I saw your prison tattoos. I’m feeling extra annoyed today, and I need something to help ease that frustration.”

“Fuck you, man,” the bald man shouted and spit right in Keelan’s face.

Okay. Now he’s a dead man.

Keelan wiped the bloody saliva from his face with his left sleeve before his knee came up and slammed into the guy’s groin. “Being proud of your abhorrent crimes, so much as to wear it on your neck, makes you expendable. No one likes a rapist and a woman beater, you fucker!”

The man tried to scream, but only a hoarse wheeze came out. Despite the pain, he once again tried to wrench free from Keelan’s hold, but there was no point. Keelan was all height and muscle .

“I’d kill you, you worthless fuck, but your days are already numbered with tattoos like that.” Keelan released his grip on the man’s throat right before he grabbed the back of his neck again and slammed his face so hard into the doorframe that the skin on his bottom lip ripped open and more blood sprayed out. The bald man’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped to the ground. Keelan released his hold on him and let the man hit the asphalt.

My instinct was to bolt, but the moment I stepped back, Keelan’s eyes looked down and met mine. “Don’t even think about it, babe. Get your ass back in the car. Now!”

He didn’t have to warn me twice. I wasn’t a fool. The look in Keelan’s eyes was venomous and deadly, and I wasn’t about to stoke that fire and burn myself alive.