Free Fever by Joan Swan

the gang and the carjacking had drained, leaving him in a hole, burrowing deeper by the minute. Teague let it go, hoping Taz came out of it on his own. Hannah laid her head against the seat and closed her eyes. After a few minutes, her head slid sideways and rested on Teague’s shoulder.
    “I think we got a problem, you and me.” Taz finally spoke after fifteen minutes of cool, dark silence. “I think that chink is more important to you than I am.”
    Teague didn’t look at Taz, didn’t show any emotion. “She’s a bargaining chip, nothing more.”
    “What you want bad enough to put up with her?”
    “Not your business.”
    “I ain’t goin’ to no Walmart.”
    “You don’t have to go in. It would probably be better if you didn’t.”
    “I’ll drop you off and go find myself a whore,” Taz said. “I know where they hang out in town.”
    Hell, no. Taz was not disappearing with this truck. “She’s in no condition to sit around and wait for you to get back. I’ll drop you and pick you up when we’re done.”
    “You’re a bossy sonofabitch, Creek. I’m gettin’ tired of it.”
    “We agreed on the inside. My rules, your contacts. If you don’t like it, I’ll drop you back off at the GTO and make a phone call to the cops to let them know where you are.”
    “I could do the same for you.”
    Teague thought back to Hannah’s comments at the fence. “But you won’t because you know you can’t do this without me. After tomorrow, you can make every goddamned call on every goddamned day for the rest of your life. For now, you have to live with me.”
    They rode in silence for the next fifteen minutes. As they came up on the outskirts of Los Banos, Taz made a few turns and slowed where three women stood clustered around the stairwell of an apartment building—two black women, one white.
    “You girls workin’ tonight?” Taz called toward them.
    “You know it, baby,” one of the black girls answered. “Come on over.”
    Taz set the brake and pushed open the door.
    “Hey.” Teague caught his arm. “Leave me some money.”
    Taz peeled off a dozen bills and pounded the remaining wad into Teague’s hand. Teague caught his partner’s grip and infused heat into the connection until Taz looked him in the eye. “I’ll be back in an hour and a half. If you’re not here, I’ll assume you’re going the rest of the way on your own.”
    Taz yanked out of Teague’s grip, and shook the burn from his hand, casting Teague that anxious you-freak look. Sometimes others’ suspicions about his abilities worked to Teague’s advantage. “I’ll be here.”
    Teague scooted to the driver’s side, dislodging Hannah’s head from his shoulder. She woke and straightened in the seat, her eyes sleepy, making her look sweet and sexy all at the same time. “Where are we?”
    “Go back to sleep.” As Teague pulled away from the curb, he glanced back at Taz. The animal had one arm around each black girl, and the threesome walked toward the stairwell. Teague hit the brake. “Shit. That’s no good.”
    Hannah groaned as she shifted in her seat.
    “Goddammit,” Teague muttered as he watched Taz and the two black girls disappear into the building. The single white girl strolled off around a corner.
    “Oh, God,” Hannah whined. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
    Her tortured voice brought Teague’s attention around. The color in her face had paled several shades in the last hour. His gaze drifted to the bloodstains on her shirt, which made him realize there was no real decision to be made. He pounded the gas and headed toward Walmart.
    “You need something in your stomach,” he said.
    “Yeah, like stitches.”
    Teague’s mouth quirked. With Taz gone, a certain relief settled in. One less wild card to worry about. “I was speaking of food and water, but stitches would be good, too.”
    “If I eat, I’ll throw up.”
    Teague sighed and rubbed at the stubble on his head. He hadn’t shaved his skull in a