Bullets

The windshield was a splintered mess with at least six bullet holes and the passenger door glass was almost nonexistent. It wasn’t so bad that it couldn’t be repaired, she silently reasoned. Still, she didn’t dare look at Kash, but rather, she cleared her throat and stared at the building outside her fractured window.

“Where are we?” she questioned in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Kash shot back sarcastically. Stepping out of the car, he shut the door with a resounding slam, startling Leslie, and sending the rest of the passenger door glass crumbling to the ground.

Being careful of the broken glass inside, Leslie searched the floor board for her hat. She found it, and gently she brushed it off and got out of the car. The glass crunched loudly under her feet as she walked to the rear of the car. Nervously she fiddled with the brim of her fedora while watching Kash inspect the bullet holes in the trunk lid.

“Are you okay?” Her question was meant for him, but she directed it at her shoe tops.

“I’m fine. How kind of you to ask,” he bit out sharply. “I just wish I could say the same for my new car.”

That inconsiderate tone of his was all she needed to rejuvenate her battered psyche. Her head snapped up and her eyes narrowed in a fiery glare. “I’m sorry about your car. I’ll pay whatever it costs to have it fixed,” she offered coolly, masking the hurt she felt. Then she pivoted and walked past him toward the opening of the alley in which they entered. “Just send the bill to my office,” she called over her shoulder.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Bennett called after her.

She ignored him and pushed her hat onto her head.

“Your hotel’s the other way,” he informed her.

Leaning against the trunk of his car, Kash could only shake his head at her stubbornness. “Wait a minute, will ya?” His request fell on deaf ears, and she continued down the alley. He half-walked, half-ran to catch up with her, and when he did, he tugged at her elbow, encouraging her to stop.

“May I walk you to your room?” he asked in a gentlemanly fashion.

Without waiting for her acceptance or objection, he started to guide her around the corner, and then harshly yanked her back, pressing her against the building.

A sharp intake of air was stifled by his cupped hand over her mouth, and a finger to pursed lips, motioning for her to be quiet.

The same Buick that had chased them earlier was making its way down the street. It stopped in front of the alley. Kash pushed her deeper into the shadows, but their forms were still outlined. The car didn’t move. Bennett removed his hand from her mouth and drew her to him, molding his length to his.

Her voice was hoarse when she whispered, “Now what do we do?”

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