Page 51 of Captive of Outlaws

“If you want the proper one, that’s fine,” I say. “We’ll take quality. Money is no object.” I wince, regretting that last part as soon as it comes out of my mouth. But nervousness has me over-explaining.

I hear the footsteps of the men behind us, theindistinct mutters from one to the other. I don’t like it. I can’t say exactly why, but something about them feels predatory. I’m no stranger to the occasional microaggression; I’m a young woman in an old man’s profession. It kind of comes with the territory. But now, out of my jumpsuit and in these fancy new clothes, I don’t exactly look the part of someone who knows her way around a socket wrench.

“All righty then,” Jimmy says and toddles over to his adding machine. “Let me just total those up for you.”

“Sure,” I say, all but squeaking. I dare to glance sidelong at LJ, and his expression startles me so much I almost gasp. He is stony-faced, but with blazing hate in his eyes, laser-targeted on our two hillbilly friends.

“Dude,” I mutter under my breath. “Chill out.”

I’m nervous too. I don’t like anyone pacing around me like this. But odds are they’re just a little soused up on Wild Turkey and gas station vape pods and feel like they might make a pass at me. LJ says nothing, but beneath his beard, I can see his jaw working.

“...and 493...” Jimmy drones leisurely, punching the buttons on his adding machine. I know better than to tell him to hurry up, but God, I wish he would for once.

Then something pokes me in the ass.

“Hey!” I whirl around, more surprised than anything to find Mr. Slim Jim with what he must think is a devilish expression on his face. He grins, his mangy goatee parting to reveal tobacco-stained teeth, but no sound comes out of his mouth.

Because LJ’s fist smacks his pickup line right out of it.

“Jesus Christ!” I jump backward, ramming into the counter and clutching at my chest. Slim Jim hits the deck awfullyhard, his face a mixture of dumbfounded shock and pain. LJ, for his part, just leans back casually and gives his hand a tiny shake, more for show than like he actually hurt anything.

“What in the...” Jimmy is so surprised his cheaters drop right off his face. “Now, see here...”

“Don’t do that,” LJ growls.

“I wasn’t doing nothing,” whines Mr. Slim Jim from the floor. “The fuck is your problem, man?”

“Like hell you didn’t do anything. You touched her. You think that’s acceptable?”

Mr. Slim Jim scowls, rubbing his jaw. “Fucking psycho.” He glares at me. “And you must be a psycho bitch to put up with him.”

In a single fluid motion, LJ ducks to the ground and grabs the guy by the throat, ramming him against the wall, rattling the Quaker State metal sign that’s nailed up a few inches away.

“I fucking told you,” LJ says as the guy scratches at his massive hand, trying to free himself. “Don’t do that.”

“What in the fuck is your problem?” says the greasy guy, holding up his phone. “I’m calling the sheriff’s office.”

LJ’s massive shoulders relax just enough to let the guy go. He wheels on me. “We’re leaving.”

“But—”

He doesn’t wait for me to protest. He steps to the counter, slams down a stack of bills thick as a brick, and ducks his head at Jimmy. “Apologies. This should make up for it.” He pivots and looks at me. “Maren, now.”

And before I can protest, he’s grabbed me by the waist and pulled me out of Jimmy’s shop.

The bell dings one last time as we burst out into the light.

“Get in,” LJ says gently but firmly, depositing me at the passenger door. “I’m driving.”

“But you said—”

“Keys,” he says, and I’m so stunned by how he’s taking over that I hand them to him with no questioning. He slides into the driver’s seat and revs the engine as I take unsteady steps to follow him in.

I feel like I’m moving in slow motion, like this is a movie. “What just happened?” LJ doesn’t answer; he just throws his hand on the armrest of my seat and glances over his shoulder so we can peel out in reverse.

I’m silent for a few seconds, listening to nothing but the pounding of my pulse in my ears and the purring of the engine as LJ shifts us into second, third, fourth, and not without a decent amount of grinding.There goes my fucking transmission,I think, finally, when my heart rate has approached something non-apoplectic. Then all my anger comes back at once.

“What the fuck was that? Why did you go beast mode on those guys? They weren’t—”

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