Free Iron by Amy Isan

breathing is gentle and constant against the back of my neck. I snuggle closer against his body and he responds by pulling me closer, until his bare chest is touching my back. A shiver runs through me and I giggle a little bit. Even with all this madness surrounding us, I savor the joy he brings me.
    He smacks his lips a couple of times and whispers something. I lean a bit and try to look over my shoulder at him. His eyes are still closed shut, and after I shift, he repeats: “Cassie...”
    I grind my hips against him and test his resolve. He grumbles and chuckles in my ear, still keeping his eyes closed. He squeezes me against his growing erection and gropes my breasts. I giggle, but am too tired to do anything more.
    I stroke his arm a couple of times, until his breathing changes and I know he’s asleep. It’s still dim enough in the room that I don’t have to stay awake, not really. Having Logan wrapped around me makes it an easy choice. After rearranging my pillow, I doze back asleep, sunny thoughts on my mind.
    . . .
    The lack of cars driving by and horns honking is what finally wakes me up. Yellow light hits my face and tickles my nose, and I distract myself by looking away so I don’t sneeze. Logan is up and wandering around the room when I finally sit up. He immediately looks at me and gives me a grin.
    “Morning sleepy-head,” he says.
    I shake my head and laugh. “What? Sleepy-head? Who says that?”
    He smiles. “Get up,” he says. “Let’s go eat.”
    I climb out of the bed and dig around in the bags he brought up last night, something light and clean to wear should be good enough. Maybe a dress? He’s so casual, like we’re not literally on the run.
    . . .
    After getting dressed we descend the stairs and exit into the alleyway again. Logan is carrying the saddlebags, having dropped the duffel off inside our room. Last night, in my exhaustion, I could barely make out anything along the buildings. With the light of day illuminating everything, I can see how run down the city is. No sign marks the door we just left, and an overfilled dumpster lines the left wall. While I’m gawking at everything, I notice Logan settling the saddlebags back onto his motorcycle. The ground is damp and murky, but the alleyway is short enough that it isn’t anything to freak out about.
    On the street, cars flash back and forth, but even with more traffic than last night, it isn’t a very impressive sight. The street we’re on seems to barely extend for more than a couple of blocks in each direction, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire area was only made up of a couple dozen blocks.
    “Wow,” I say, as he pulls me onto the sidewalk.
    I feel his gaze on me and he cocks his head a little when I look at him. “What is it?”
    “This place is... tiny.”
    “Yeah, that’s right. Good for laying low in. It was the last time I was here.”
    I nod and he places a firmer grip on my arm and guides me down the sidewalk. After a few moments, he turns his heel and we walk into a bistro. The place looks just as humble as our hotel, if you could call it that, and has the same kind of charm to it. Old fixtures line the walls and they look like they’re more than for decoration. An old couple greets us in Spanish and I feel my heart sink. I don’t know any Spanish. Before I can freak out, Logan responds in Spanish.
    I’m not only bewildered that Logan can speak it, but embarrassed by how little Spanish I’ve picked up despite growing up in Arizona. The old lady that greeted Logan looks at me and asks Logan something in Spanish and he shakes his head. She grins and extends her hand out to me. “ Hola, señorita ,” she says.
    I flush and shake my head weakly. I almost want to vanish through the walls I’m so embarrassed. I mean, I know what she said, but I have no idea how to respond outside of my own hola . Logan talks with her some more while I just try to pick out words I might understand. After a little bit, she