Free Falling Apart (Barely Alive #2) by Bonnie R. Paulson Page B

each other as if the other had a weapon hidden under their shirts. James did, and Brian had a gun of some sort. Anything could happen.
    I climbed from the vehicle. They could stare at each other all night, but unless they planned on getting a room, we needed a catalyst and I was chock full of enzymes ready to catalyze all kinds of situations and reactions. Cocky didn’t describe my saunter up to the car and how I leaned against the rear panel, inches from Brian, and crossed my arms. Mentally I channeled UFC, I’m from Vegas. I can do anything I want.
    He didn’t move, just watched me with his mouth slightly open.
    I tapped his shoulder, even though I was right in front of him. “Hi, Brian. We seem to be going the same way.” I nodded toward his arm. Like I spoke to an invalid child, I said in a high voice, “Oh, that looks like it hurts. You okay? Is that your gift for working with Dominic?”
    Anger replaced his shock and he used his good hand to clutch the handle of the nozzle. He most likely wanted to strangle me with it. I didn’t blame him. Crap, I could be annoying. Wetness pricked his eyes. Oh, boy. Emotions. I hated them.
    He worked his mouth, but failed. Brian glanced over his shoulder at the gas station.
    A man strode by, toothpick protruding from the side of his mouth. “Hey, yous kids better get your gas and get on home. There’s a quarantine in effect. Didn’t you hear about them people eating other people? They could be here anytime.” He grunted at our blank stares. “Have it your way.” He waved to the woman behind us in line. “Ma’am, you best hurry on with your business.”
    I leaned in close to Brian, his breathing hitched. “So they took your hand, huh? And didn’t even give you the benefit of a bite?” I pursed my lips. “Doesn’t seem fair to me.”
    Pushing buttons was an art form, one I had apparently mastered a while back. Brian jutted his chin toward me and hissed, “I don’t want to be like them. I have to save my mom and all I have to do is deliver Heather to them. She doesn’t even have to get hurt, if I can get her away from you. If not? Then she dies and so does my mom.”
    The nozzle popped, signaling the tank was full. But he didn’t move, his gaze squared with mine. Less taunting and more concern filled my voice, betraying the tough guy act I worked so hard at delivering. “Why’d they do that to your hand?”
    He held up his limb. I caught a glimpse of fingers under the thick gauze. “They didn’t take anything. I slit my wrist to make it look like we’d been kidnapped or something. I was trying to throw you off. Damn. I have to get down there. I have to save my mom.” He patted the top of the car. “I stole this from a guy who stopped to help us. I made him walk into the woods, told him one of the murderers was after us.”
    Talking to Dominic might have made things worse for Brian or better. I wouldn’t know. His mom was kidnapped. Hell.
    Brian released the trigger and replaced the nozzle in the pump recess. Arms akimbo, his face tight, he pleaded, “What do I do? I need Heather or Dominic will turn my mom over to whatever the hell those things are.”
    “Where is Dominic? You’re meeting him, but where?” I tensed my jaw. The last thing I wanted to do was go to him. But the events unraveled like yarn, meant to go here and there with knots throughout the whole thing. Damn, I hated knots.
    “Boise. He’s meeting me in Boise.” He sniffed. Hopefully, Heather wouldn’t fall for a wimp like him.
    He made me feel old. Another moment in my shortening life, where I wouldn’t be given the time to think out my course of action. So be it. I sidled to the open driver’s door. “Heather, can you get out?” I expected to see handcuffs or some other restraint, but nothing held her in place except a car seat. “Heather! Get out. You’re coming with me. Come on.”
    Slow as honey, she removed the restraint and slid from the car. Hell, her door wasn’t even