Free Love Is Strange (I Know... #2) by Whitney Bianca Page A

where he was spotted? If someone somehow saw him in Denver, we'd be screwed.
    “I shouldn't be telling you this,” he said with a sigh. “I'm not trying to scare you.”
    “I'm not scared,” I said, then picked up my fork again. I took another bite, even though the spinach tasted like dust on my tongue. But I told myself that if the feds had any idea who had helped Elliot escape or what had happened to Lassiter, they would be the ones banging on my door, not Wilson. But I couldn't help but feel like it was only a matter of time.
    “There's also been sightings in Texas and Oklahoma, so the investigation is ongoing. We're just waiting for one of them to fuck up,” he said and I paused at his words. “Which will happen. Pritchard and the guy he escaped with are both violent offenders. There's no way they'll be able to keep a low-profile. They can't help themselves. I just hope they'll be back behind bars before something bad happens to someone else.”
    “Yeah,” I murmured, forcing myself to take another bite. “What do you think? About where they are?” I asked after a minute, after drinking more tea to soothe my dry throat.
    “Nowhere near here,” he said reassuringly. “There's been no signs that he came this far north.”
    “Yet. There's no signs yet,” I said, correcting him. At that point, I was beginning to wonder if it was truly only a matter of time. I was doing everything in an attempt to not be discovered but there were so many different ways to make a mistake. Elliot was already sneaking out of the house. During the day, I had no idea what he did. I didn't think he would do anything that stupid, but it was so hard to stop him when he got it in his mind to do something. He promised he would do everything to keep us together, but the whole world was out to get us. One wrong move and we'd be dead in the water.
    Something had to give. Something had to be done.
    I just had to gather up the strength to do it.
    “Don't think like that,” Wilson said, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table. The small table shook with the movement and my tea sploshed in my glass. “Trust the system. Trust me.” I couldn't help the rueful smile that spread over my lips. There was no hiding it; I was too much of a cynic at that point. I was too jaded to believe that, no matter how sincere Wilson thought he was being. There was no protecting me from Elliot. There never had been. There never would be.
    “I don't trust anyone but myself,” I said and it was the most true thing I'd said all afternoon.

Chapter Four
     
     
    S he was lying to me.
    From the minute she walked in the door, she was lying. I was sitting in the dark, waiting for her. After another day of fucking around and trying to keep myself busy, I was waiting for her to get home. I was counting down the fucking hours. When she left in the morning, I started my prison routine – hundred of crunches, pushups and squats. I worked out until my muscles burned and then went numb.  Then I took a shower and jacked off because it was second nature. Then I cleaned the kitchen and made the bed. Then I tried to read one of the law books she had on her shelf, like I used to do in prison. But I didn't. Instead, I went into her closet and ran my hand over her clothes. It was becoming a habit but I couldn't resist. I liked touching her things. I liked being in the messy, quiet, enclosed space, filled with her scent. I stood back and stared at it for a moment, taking the chaos in.
    Growing up, my grandmother arranged her clothes by color and occasion. Her church dresses didn't hang next to her nurse's uniform, never. Joanie didn't do that, but she also had a hell of a lot more clothes. She had dresses and skirts and blouses, all stuffed in and over-flowing. She had dozens of colorful scarves, competitive swimsuits and skimpier bikinis in clear plastic bins and designer handbags piled up on the shelf. Her shoes were tossed around willy-nilly, some stacked and