It only took me a quick search around the RV to realize Jace wasn’t here, and even though I know he’ll probably be back soon, I wouldn’t blame him if he decided to stay away longer. What was I thinking, falling asleep in his arms? He’s here to help me get to New York, not to act as my teddy bear.
I drop the magazine beside me on the couch and rub my tired eyes. Maybe I should have left when I got the chance yesterday, although the Amber Alert has completely ruined my plans to take a flight to New York. Traveling by plane would have been risky to begin with, but now that I’ve been broadcasted nationally as a missing person, it’d be downright idiotic to walk into an airport. Which leaves me still dependent on Jace for my escape, and which really doesn’t make me feel any better about him avoiding me this morning. It probably means he’s regretting what happened between us last night. Whatever that was. His comfort felt like more than simple pity—a lot more. But with Jace missing this morning, I’m starting to think I completely misinterpreted it.
Something taps my shoulder, and I yelp, looking up to find Killer hovering above me. I glance toward the door, but it’s already closed, and it looks like Killer is the only one who came in.
“Rise and shine, sweetie,” he says. Or at least that’s what I think he says. He’s using what I guess is a sing-song voice, and his lips are moving all weird, making them hard to read. He quits the singing and adds, “The other guys are going to be in here in just a second, and I don’t think you want to meet Jon while you’re in . . . that.” He gestures to my crumpled T-shirt and wrinkles his nose.
“Um, thanks.” I stand up, my arms crossed over my chest, and mutter, “I’m going to go change.” As annoying as Killer’s warning is, I should probably be grateful for it. Facing Jace is going to be awkward enough without me looking like hell.
Killer chuckles and nods. “Good idea.”
I jog to the bathroom and rush inside. My duffle bag is still in the corner, but it looks scrunched, like someone’s been sitting on it. I pick it up and find dog hair covering the top of the bag and some of the clothes inside. Great. Not only has Jace’s pet grim reaper decided to use my belongings as a bed, but now I’m going to smell like a dog all day.
I shake away the thought and fish out a pair of jean shorts and a T-shirt. I’m about to pull them on, when I realize I smell like sweat, probably from last night’s nightmare. Ick. Double ick, since I was cuddling with Jace while I stunk like this. I cringe, trying not to dwell on that fact, and start the shower in the corner of the bathroom.
Once I’m out of the shower, I throw my hair up into a loose bun. I didn’t have enough room to bring my own shower products, so now I’m going to smell like dude shampoo and dog hair. I bite back a groan and shrug on my clothes, silently hoping that Jace owns a lint roller.
As I step out of the bathroom, I can’t help shooting the window a glare. The desert stretches as far as I can see, and even though we’re just a few miles outside of Albuquerque, I feel hopelessly far from civilization. I’m not sure when we’re going to travel the final stretch to the city, but I sure hope it’s soon. Being cooped up in the RV is bad enough without being surrounded by such a miserably empty landscape.
I pad toward the front of the RV, all too aware that I probably don’t look much better than when Killer first found me. I usually don’t recover from my nightmares very fast. It’s strange—when my dad hits me, I can walk away and pretend like nothing ever happened. But when I have nightmares, it’s different. It’s like the pain has infiltrated my subconscious, and at that level, there’s no ignoring it.
As I enter the living area, four heads turn toward me. Killer and Arrow sit on the far couch, snuggled close to each other. Killer beams at me, while Arrow gives me an appraising look, and I can feel him judging me.
I quickly turn to Jace, who sits on the opposite couch. He regards me with a completely neutral expression. Heat creeps into my cheeks, and I grit my teeth to keep my expression from tumbling into one of pain. How could I have thought last night meant anything? I’m someone for him to pity, and nothing more.
I try to ignore my embarrassment as I shift my attention to the fourth guy, who I assume is Jon. He’s lounging on the couch, both arms thrown over the back of it. Jon is shorter than the others, but muscular, and his right arm is covered in tattoos. They’re gorgeous, with bold colors and real artwork.
“Hi,” I say, deciding to break the silence when no one else does. “I’m Ali.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jon says, offering me a hesitant smile. His teeth are just a teensy bit crooked. It’s his only real physical flaw, and I make myself return the smile, forcing away the feeling that I’m woefully inept.
I shuffle my feet, waiting for someone else to say something. They don’t. They’re all staring at me, and I have the distinct feeling that I’ve just interrupted a conversation about myself.