Free PULSE: A Stepbrother Romance by Sarah Sparrows Page B

and the devastating toll it took on the city. I’d seen
the images and read the news reports, but he had lived through it, and offered a harrowing insider’s view into the
disaster.

 
    “Thought the
world was gonna fuckin’ end, man,” he confessed one night, over takeout Chinese.
“We couldn’t get out of here, Gary and me. Locked ourselves up with every ounce
of food and water we could find. Stupid fucker gets these ideas in his head, y’know?
Stubborn bastard. He stays the course, man. A’int no matter where those tracks gonna
go.”

 
    “That’s not
always the best approach,” I observed, chewing on a forkful of lo mein . “Gotta know when to fold ‘em.”

 
    “Damn right,”
Slippery Pete agreed. “But it’s all okay, see? You and me, we’re a team. We’re
gonna get outta this dump, maybe head out west. Plenty of action out there.”

 
    “Out west?
Out west is expensive,” I chewed.

 
    “Not when
you’re all resourceful, see?” He took a bite of an egg roll, quickly
swallowing. “It’s all in the, uh, approach. You just gotta believe, pal. And you believe me …it’ll happen. With my speed and your strength, we’ll be a duo. Fuckin’ unstoppable , that’s what they’ll
say about us. You’ll see.”

 
    “I wish I
shared your enthusiasm,” I remarked. “New Orleans is decent, but I could use
some different scenery. Sure. Maybe we’ll head out west. I mean it’s a cliché
for a reason, right? There might be a better life out there just waiting for
us.”

 
    “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” He
shouted, jabbing a dirty chopstick towards me. Not that he knew how to use chopsticks, but he tried, anyway.
“You and me, all the way. We’ll bust outta this piece-of-shit bar and make
something of ourselves, see? It’s gonna be spectacular.”

 
    “You might be
onto something,” I agreed, swallowing another bite. “If there’s anybody that
can do it…might as well be us.”

 

 
 
 
    PENSACOLA

 
    PRESENT DAY

 
 
 
    C oming to Pensacola had been a
complete mistake.

 
    I knew that
I’d been too hard on Saffron. She didn’t understand that I had to keep her at
arm’s length – ignorant of my feelings for her. Every syllable that I’d uttered
had filled my heart with regret, but I’d lashed out as hard as I could bear.

 
    All because I
was still a coward.

 
    The poor girl
had only offered me dinner. It was the perfect opportunity to forget all about
earlier in the day, to push everything out of my head. She must have envisioned
us chowing down and bonding over some comedy flick. Instead, maybe she thought
I’d convince her into watching a horror film – testing her mettle and
making her prove that she was nearly as tough as I was.

 
    I turned onto
a side street, the wind whipping at my shirt and jeans. Under the streetlights
of Pensacola, I headed towards the interstate, uncaring where I went.

 
    It wasn’t
good for me to focus on her while I drove. Maybe
I should turn back , I thought to myself I
can just beg her forgiveness and tell her that I was being stupid. I wasn’t
feeling well. She’d hate me, but she’d believe me.

 
    Perhaps there
was a part of the night I could salvage, after all.

 
    But I had
just missed my turn, and now I was heading onto the interstate. Under the
orange glow of the lamps, I was already peeling towards the main throughway,
and I realized that my split-second decision had already been made for me. With
a small amount of regret, I stayed the course, not knowing how far I’d drive.

 
    It wasn’t a
total loss. I was supposed to use Saffron’s credit card at places away from the
Beach House. Ownership of the house itself was shielded by three different
shell corporations, but there was no hiding a credit trail. It’s why the house
was so well stocked. If anyone was coming down to Pensacola to find Saffron, I
was supposed to make sure they didn’t find what they were looking