Chapter 2

Geneva

" C ome on, Bo. We've got to get to our shelter before the rain starts."

I quickly glance up from under the hood of my rain slicker shielding my face at the man who generously gave my son a cup of vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkles. He was nice, but the two men he's sitting with terrify me.

As soon as I saw them on the bench, I crossed the street, praying they didn't notice us. They have a menacing, larger-than-life bearing. Their leather motorcycle vests, military haircuts, and a dominating presence scream authority. Considering I have no idea exactly how far my ex-husband's reach is, I can't risk interacting with any man—especially law enforcement.

"This way, Bo." I put my hand on the back of my son's neck and guide him down a path between the buildings towards the river.

He looks up at me and smiles, ice cream all around his lips. This is the first time I've seen him smile in three days and it breaks my heart that I can't do something as simple as buy him a sweet treat to make him happy.

To make it out of Spokane, we hitchhiked a ride to Bozeman from a woman on her way to Deadwood. Yesterday, we caught another ride with a female truck driver heading for the border. Canada is exactly where I want to go, but without ID or passports, she was unwilling to risk getting in trouble or losing her CDL.

I guess I can't blame her, but getting out of the country is the only way we're going to survive my ex-husband. Of course, I didn't tell her about him. No way can I trust a stranger with that kind of information, and I certainly can't talk about it in front of Bo.

We cross a pedestrian bridge over a small creek and follow a rough trail down to the railroad tracks. Last night we slept in an abandoned car on a retired track and I hope to find it still vacant.

Two nights ago, I snuck us out of the house with a backpack of clothes and toiletries and one soft-sided cooler of food. John was upstairs in the shower when we ran, and considering I left everything to include Bo's birth certificate, I'm not sure how we're going to survive. I'm not above begging for change to feed my child, but we couldn't sleep in that house one more night.

Until three days ago, John focused his anger on me. It was sporadic in the beginning and I chalked it up to the stress from his job as a state trooper. After any kind of abuse—emotional and eventually physical—he apologized, showering me with the love and affection that made me fall for him in the first place. Life would be good for weeks to months at a time, but then they involuntarily retired him from the Washington State Patrol and his temper grew.

"Momma?"

"Yes, Bo?"

"You should have the last bite." He offers me what's left of his ice cream.

Tears fill my eyes. He really is the sweetest little boy and deserves better than what I can give him right now. I smile and shake my head. "I'm still stuffed from our sandwich earlier. That's all yours. Eat up before it melts."

We reach the train car just as a loud boom cracks overhead and raindrops fall in earnest on our heads. I lift Bo into the abandoned car and swing the backpack up before climbing in myself, drenched in the seconds it took to haul myself onto the platform.

Bo scurries to the back, giggling as I remove my rain coat and shake off all the droplets. "You're all wet."

I grin at him. Even on the darkest days he makes me smile. "Well, we both could use a shower."

"We can grab the soap and dance around outside while getting clean."

I look up thoughtfully, as if he's presented me with a tempting plan I have to ponder. "We could do that, but we don't know how long the rain is going to last or how low the temperature is going to get tonight. I don't want to go to bed wet and cold, do you?"

"No. I guess not."

"How about we go to the creek tomorrow and see if we can find a good area to bathe?"

"Like we're bears in the wild?" He grins.

I sit with my back pressed against the corner and pull him into my arms. "Exactly like that, Bo Bo the Bear."

"Rawr!" He swipes at the air with his fingers and then snuggles into my chest. The rain hits the top of the metal container, each ping echoing around us.

"Momma?"

"Yes?"

"Is Daddy meeting us where we're going?"

I press my lips together and hold my breath, looking up at the ceiling to hold the slew of curse words back. "Not this time. Is that okay?"

He nods, his fingers playing with the drawstring of my hoodie. "It's okay."

"Do you miss him?"

Shaking his head, his voice shrinks to a near whisper. "I don't want to see him no more."

"You don't have to." Sighing, I kiss the top of his head. "You know what I would love right now?"

"What?"

"For you to tell me a story."

"About bears?"

I laugh. Ever since he saw a nature show about bears in Alaska, he's been obsessed. "That would be great."

"Can I have something to eat? I'm still hungry."

"Of course." I reach over and grab the soft-sided cooler, unsure of what we have left to eat. There's a half a sandwich plus leftover chips. "How's this?"

"Okay. Can we have pancakes for breakfast?"

I think about the fifty-seven dollars we have. When we fled, I left my purse and my wallet because I know John has put trackers on me in the past and I couldn't risk giving away our location. I know he will find us eventually, which is why I have to get us out of the country. Still, four dollars' worth of pancakes isn't going to make or break us at this point. Plus, maybe I can find a couple of days' worth of work to earn us enough money to get us over the border.

"Yeah baby, we can have pancakes in the morning. Now eat up and tell me my story."

F reshly bathed and wearing the cleanest clothes we have, Bo and I enter the Broken Diner and take the booth furthest from the door.

I woke up with a mild fever that must have broken before sunrise considering I was drenched in sweat by the time Bo pushed away from me. The creek felt nice, the cool water soothing the brand burned into my hip. I think it might be infected, but the last thing I can do right now is stop at a hospital to have it looked at.

One, I can't afford a doctor or the antibiotics they will prescribe and two, hospitals record names, and—considering the marks on my body—would most likely call the police. One hit of an abused woman and her five-year-old son with no identification on a police blotter and I can kiss my life goodbye.

I keep my hood up and my head down as the waitress approaches. "What can I get you?"

"Can we get a kids' breakfast with pancakes?"

"Okay, anything for you?"

I shake my head. "No, thank you."

"How about something to drink?"

"Chocolate milk," Bo says, smiling at me.

I shake my head and then relent, glancing up at a pretty blonde with a friendly smile. "Yeah, that's fine."

"Okay. I'll be right back."

Two minutes later she comes back with two glasses of water, chocolate milk in a plastic to-go cup with a lid, and a cup of hot coffee.

"On the house, honey." She doesn't wait for me to respond and walks away to take care of another customer.

Bo sticks his straw into the lid and takes a deep drink. "Slow down, Bo. You don't want to fill up on milk."

"It's so yummy. It's been forever since I've had chocolate milk."

I roll my eyes. "You are so dramatic. It's only been four days."

"Which feels like forever, Momma."

Taking a sip of my coffee, I add flavored creamer. It tastes amazing but hits my stomach like a lead brick. My stomach gurgles its vacuous displeasure, but unlike Bo, I have enough fat stores to go a few days between meals. Right now every dime and morsel we have needs to be dedicated to him.

"Here we go. One kids' meal with pancakes and lots of syrup." She slides two plates on the table.

"I didn't order this." I shake my head and quickly do the calculations. The breakfast special was twelve bucks on top of Bo's six-dollar meal. Plus tax and tip, that's twenty-five dollars I can't afford.

"I know you didn't, but Milo screwed up my other table's order. They wanted eggs over easy and he made scrambled. Instead of letting the food go to waste, I thought I'd see if you'd like to eat it. No charge."

I can't stop the tears from falling down my cheeks as my stomach growls loudly. Peering up through my lashes, I make eye contact with her. "Thank you."

"No worries, honey. We all need a little help from time to time." She touches my arm softly and walks away without saying another word.

Bo grins. "Dig in?"

"Absolutely."

My son attacks his plate with gusto while I take a more cautious approach and put my pancakes to the side. I figure we can eat them later when they're cold. The eggs settle in my belly and the slab of country ham tastes like heaven.

I'm chewing on a piece of bacon when our waitress comes back to the table and smiles down at Bo. "You're a good eater."

"I'm a bear. Rawr!" Bo giggles, syrup coating his lips.

"Really? I happen to know a couple of bears, but they aren't nearly as cute as you." She sets down a paper to-go bag on the table. "I bet you like chocolate cake, huh?"

Bo's eyes grow big. "Yes."

"Well, you've had enough sugar for now, but there's a giant slab of chocolate cake in here for dessert tonight." The waitress slides it to me. "But you have to promise me you're going to take good care of your momma before I give it to you."

"I always take care of my momma," he sasses.

Raising my brow, I tsk. "Bo."

She cackles. "I love it. You're just as fierce as the bears I know too. So you're Bo, huh? My name is Carla. If there's anything I can get you, let me know."

"Hey, Carla." I don't know where I'm getting the courage, but this woman's been more than nice to us and I am desperate. "You wouldn't happen to know where I could get a temporary job, would you?"

"You need money?"

I nod. "Just enough to tide us over until we can move north."

"I think a couple of the shops on Main Street are taking applications."

Flashing her an obligatory smile, I cast my gaze down to our empty plates. "Yeah, that's not going to work."

"Are you looking for something under the table?"

"If you know of anything."

She glances over her shoulder at the kitchen, and I touch her hand. "Please, don't draw attention to us. I can cook and clean. Practically anything within reason for a couple bucks."

"There's nothing here, but my sister has a cleaning business. Let me reach out to her and find out what she's got going on, and I'll get back to you." Carla pulls a wad of cash out of her apron and slides it to me on the table. "Take this and come back when I get off work at four o'clock."

I shake my head and slide the money back to her. "I can't take your tips."

"You're not. Consider it a loan until I can help you find a way to pay me back." Carla frowns at the bruises on my face and my busted lip. She was looking at them earlier, but now she's blatantly staring to let me know without saying a word that she knows all of my deep dark secrets. That alone is enough to bring me to tears. "Meals are on the house. I'll see you at four."

She turns and leaves our table without a second glance. In any other situation I wouldn't take a working woman's tips, but one look across the table at my little boy's face and I know pride has no place here and now.

"Come on, Bo." I grab the paper sack that is way too heavy for a single slice of cake and stuff it in my backpack.

We walk to the edge of town toward a standalone store with a big, mostly empty parking lot. A cut-steel Bearclaw Ammo sign hangs on short chains near the front door. Currently, I'm sleeping with a big stick next to us, but maybe I can find an inexpensive weapon that could truly protect me and Bo.

Walking through the door, a deep gruff voice greets us. "Welcome in. Anything I can help you find?"

I shake my head and tighten my grip on Bo's hand, catching a big man's dark hair out of the corner of my eye. "Just looking."

He nods and returns his attention to the display case under his fingers. "Let us know if you need anything."

I take a left and walk to the end of the aisle furthest away from the enormous man at the counter. The items on the shelves immediately consume Bo's attention. "Momma, what's this?"

My eyes go to the wall he's pointing at. "Uh, targets."

"That one looks like a person."

"Yeah, well, people practice shooting all kinds of things."

"What's that one?"

I tilt my head and smile. "I believe that is a zombie."

"And this one?"

"Alien." Smiling, I glance around and realize this seems like a half-serious / half-not-so-serious hunting shop. There are no trophy animal heads on the walls, but instead there is a stuffed clown wearing a target on his chest with a sign that says, "Everyone hates clowns."

"Can I help you?" A smaller and slimmer, but no less lethal looking, blond man walks up to us with an easy smile on his lips. "What's up, little man?"

"I don't like clowns either," Bo states matter-of-factly.

He chuckles. "Oh yeah? Do you want to shoot some?"

"Uh…" I shake my head and pull my son to my side.

The blond puts his hands up and points to a spot behind him. "We have Nerf guns and a child-friendly shooting range right over here. Kids love it."

"Can I, Momma? PLEASE!"

"You can watch him or shop while he's playing." He smiles and in any other world I would think he's devastatingly handsome. I have no doubt he's used to women falling all over themselves for his attention. But after what I've been through, I'll probably never find a man charming again—especially not a cocky one. "My name's Cricket."

"Cricket?" I arch my brow, forgetting to hide my face and the bruises covering them.

"It's a long story." He motions for us to follow him to the Nerf gun arena.

I let go of Bo's hand and stand back while Cricket sets him up, showing him how to load the gun, aim, and shoot at the clown face targets.

Bo giggles. "Did you see? I got a bullseye."

I smile despite myself. "I saw."

"Go ahead and reload." Cricket leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes going to his partner who is still behind the counter texting on his phone. "You know, we have all kinds of stuff here besides hunting equipment. We have retractable batons, pepper spray, stun guns—whatever you want for self-defense."

Turning my face away from him, I choose my words carefully. "Why would you think I'm looking for self-defense equipment?"

"Most women who come in here are. There aren't a lot of female hunters or gun enthusiasts, although we get more than most places, I suppose."

Bo shoots another round of six foam bullets, knocking over a plastic bottle. He whoops in triumph. "Did you see me, Momma?"

"I sure did." My fight-or-flight takes hold and my pulse speeds up as something tells me we should get out of here as quickly as possible. There is too much attention being paid to us right now, and that is something I can't have.

Pressing my lips together, I glance at the exit, ensuring we have a straight shot to the door.

We do.

"They're in the middle of the second aisle." Cricket pushes off the wall casually and resets the range for Bo. "Let's keep going, little man. You got one bullseye and knocked down one bottle. Get four more bottles or two more bullseye and you win a prize."

"A prize!" My son exclaims and I know if I try to drag him out of here, he'll scream and cry. My heart can't take disappointing him right now.

I move to the second aisle and glance at the items clearly made for women. Not because there's a giant sign, but because beside the discreet black items are pink, blue, and purple ones. If I wasn't in desperate need of these items, I'd roll my eyes at the obvious pandering.

A loud bang hits the front door and the guy behind the counter moves quickly to open it. I peek over the shelves and gasp when I see a giant gray wolf pushing his way inside to stop at the end of the second aisle.

My aisle.

Frozen in place, I back up slowly as the giant beast stares me down, his golden eyes burrowing into me like he knows me.