Free Floored by Ainslie Paton

before they got in the Statesman she’d lay down the ground rules. No more than seven hours of driving a day. A mandatory lunch stop and leg stretch. No more than four hours driving at any one stretch without a break. No driving at night. Definitely no overnight stays in the car. Appropriate accommodation was to be found. No eating in the car. Drinking: water, coffee, that was okay. No smoking, no loud music, no distracting the driver by not wearing a shirt. In fact, all clothing to stay firmly on at all times while in the vehicle. No more bleeding. No getting in the front seat. And he absolutely was not, at any stage, ever, to sit behind the wheel.
    The route for the day was to be decided the night before. Fetch could determine the plan for the day, but she’d have final say. If she didn’t like it—it wasn’t on. Other than when driving together, or discussing the plan for the next day, there’d be no fraternising. The only meal they needed to eat together was lunch. And if talking could be kept to a minimum, that would be preferable.
    She wanted twelve thousand five hundred dollars upfront, before they went anywhere. If he didn’t like any of the rules then she’d get in the Statesman alone and drive away.
    When they called her number she went and collected her meal. What the hell was she thinking? There was no way this man was going to hand her twelve thousand five hundred dollars tomorrow morning. And if he did, and she took it, she was as culpable in whatever this was as he was.
    She ate the fish, tasteless even doused in lemon, and the chips were soggy. Served her right for weakening for them. She made a shopping list. She needed clothing, shoes and more toiletries, and something to carry them in. This was a small shopping centre, she didn’t think she’d have much luck getting another pair of tailored trousers, and she couldn’t wear the ones she had on for two weeks. She could dress down a little, some jeans, a cap instead of her hat. It’s not like he was going to care. He wasn’t exactly on anyone’s best-dressed list. Luckily her gym bag was in the boot with her running gear, and some other stuff she toted around to keep safe.
    She should go to the supermarket, the chemist. She should palm her keys, go back to the car park, get in the Statesman, drive home and forget she’d ever been stupid enough to consider this.
    This wasn’t the dumbest thing she’d ever done. She could toss up for the dumbest; staying with Justin so long, or the way she left him. But it was fingernail on fingertip close.
    That’s what she’d do. Leave now. She could go back via the motel and leave his cake tin with reception. He’d be annoyed, but what could he do about it. She’d be reneging on a deal, on a handshake, but it wasn’t like he was the kind of man you could trust anyway. He was the opposite of a man you could trust, and unlike with Justin, it was obvious he was hiding something, lots of things. She put her hand in her bag and ferreted for her keys. She stood up, she could hear them but not see them. She peered into the bag and then jumped like a spooked cat when he spoke.
    “Glad I caught you. Here.” He was standing in front of her, still looking like a bloody wreck, holding out an envelope. Did he have a cloak of invisibility? Was he a stealth weapon? The food court was half empty, how did he get here without her seeing him?
    “What’s that?” She looked at the envelope suspiciously. It couldn’t be.
    “Deposit. I wanted you to have it before we started out. We can stop at your bank tomorrow.”
    “There’s…” she didn’t want to say it out loud.
    “Yes. Like we agreed. It’s all there. You can count it,” he looked about, “but maybe not here. The hotel has a safe if you want to keep it there overnight.”
    “Where did you…” She sat back down. “Never mind.” He wouldn’t tell her where he got it from, and she didn’t want to know, though a cake tin would be good bet.
    He stood