Free Agent of Desire (Jessica Booker) by Charlie Evans Page B

You don’t want to be near family, or anyone they might trace you to. This should all be over in a few days. I’m so sorry.”
    “Why are they coming here? Why will they come after us?” Mrs. Frank asks.
    “You have to trust me. Please, just go!” I yell and then I have to turn and leave because if I don’t I will end up packing them up myself and taking them with us. Which is no good for either of us. I grab my bag and jog outside where Geoffrey is on the motorcycle, ready to go.
    “Where to?” he asks.
    “North or south. Anywhere but here.” I get on the back of the bike and he pulls out onto the main road. I watch the house as we go. The Franks have finally started moving. They are madly throwing half-packed bags and their children into their car. Thank God.
    We drive for several hours, not stopping. We don’t talk. We couldn’t if we wanted to because of the wind, but I’m glad we can’t because I’m busy playing the blame game in my mind. How stupid was I to leave the phone lying around without at least telling Geoffrey how important it was that it remain off? I’m going to have to take the battery out so that doesn’t happen again.
    We stop finally at a gas station. I fill the tank and Geoffrey runs in to pay.
    While he’s inside I make use of the station’s pay-phone, dialing Lincoln’s number.
    “Jessica,” he answers. His voice is slow and relaxed, like there isn’t a life or death situation playing out right now. It’s annoying, but at least he’s awake this time.
    “We had to leave your friends’ house. We’re on the move. Do you have anything new for me?”
    “Wait, what happened?” he asks with a bit more urgency in his voice.
    “Geoffrey turned on my phone.”
    “Idiot!”
    Lincoln calling Geoffrey an idiot annoys me more than it should. “He was just playing with one of the kids. He didn’t know.”
    Lincoln blows out his breath into the phone. I can tell he’s beginning to understand the urgency of the situation. Finally .
    “I’ve got your location right now. I’ll start looking for something for you in the area.”
    “Forget it,” I say. “Don’t worry about us. I’ll find a place. You focus on getting Sims off the street so that Geoffrey can go home.”
    “Fine. Call me in twenty-four hours.”
    “Sure.” I hang up the phone. Crap . If Lincoln already knows where we are, it’s a good bet Sims does, too. We’re going to have to do some more driving, get us as far from this payphone as we can.
    Geoffrey comes out with a bag of chicken-flavored potato chips and mint soda. As if I need reminding that French junk food really ha s that certain je ne sais quoi .
    “I got supplies,” he announces.
    I roll my eyes and try not to barf as I put the “food” into my pack and then offer to take over driving.
    He nods and takes the pack, shrugging it on. “But how far are we going? How long do we have to keep running?” he asks.
    “As long as it takes,” I say, which I know is a cliché answer, but it’s true. “We can’t stop while those guys are out there trying to get you. Because whatever it is they think you can do for them, it can’t be good. Letting them have you is not an option.”
    He nods, resigned. I climb on the bike and flip the ignition. The bike roars to life. He climbs on behind me. I can barely feel him back there. He is sitting as far back as he can and his hands are holding onto the back of the seat. It’s a racing bike, and there is nothing back there to hold him on if I speed up fast.
    “You’re gonna want to hold on,” I say.
    “I’ll be fine.”
    I give the bike some gas and throw it in gear, deliberately jerking the bike forward so that he almost tumbles off the back, hopefully proving my point. I jerk to a stop and he falls into me. I wait, and he finally wraps his arms around my waist, locking his arms in front of me like a good boy.
    I’m not sure if it’s because I am softer and smaller than he is, but having his strong arms