Page 14 of Bratva Hunter

The taxi angles to the back door. I push it open and search the area for threats. I’m out in the open where a man has already tried to kill me. Rushing for the back door, I fling my bags inside, huddling low as I pull the door.

A woman’s gruff voice asks. “Where to?”

A sigh slams out of me. “I don’t know.”

“Do you have a destination? Family to run to?”

Her question gives me pause. She knows I’m running. The manager must have told her. I lick my lips, remembering I didn’t get to eat my food. “Is there somewhere safe to eat?”

“Sure, princess. I know just where to go.”

Twenty minutes later, we pull into a cantina in Madrid, New Mexico. The driver parks the car under an awning and points to my bags. “We’ll put those in the trunk.”

My head pivots, looking for threats. “You can just park here?”

She beams. “Sure, my brother owns it. You’re perfectly safe here.”

I glance in the direction of the front door, and she shakes her head. “There’s a table we can use in the kitchen. Get you fed and figure out your next move.”

Air rushes out of my lungs as we walk. I’m overwhelmed by the kindness of the two women. “Thank you.”

She pats my arm. “We’ve been there.”

“That’s what the motel manager said.”

“Want to tell me why you’re running?”

Swinging my head back and forth, I chew on my lip. “No. I’m running from bad people, and they’re searching for me. I saw something…”

“Say no more, doll.” She pushes open the door as scents of well-spiced meats on the grill overpower my senses. A stew bubbles in a pot with spicy smells percolating into the air. My stomach growls on cue as the cook turns around. “Hi, Marcel. She’s starving.”

His eyes move up my body. “Too skinny. Gumbo, cheese sticks, chicken wings, and a milkshake.”

I smirk. Everyone thinks I’m younger than I am. I’ve been drinking alcohol since my first modeling job at twelve. As muchas I would like to argue, a milkshake seems divine. The taxi driver motions for us to sit. She nods. “How long have you been running?”

I shrug. I appreciate her taking me away from Santa Fe, but I don’t want to answer any questions.

She gets up and walks to the drink nook and pours me a large glass of water. She drops a lemon wedge in the glass and walks it to the table. “His milkshakes are delicious, but you’ll want water.”

I pick up the glass and take a long drink. How did I get myself into this situation? I hope my father is burning in hell. My eyes flick about the area. It’s very clean and there’s a bulletin board full of fliers about positive thinking, helpful resources, and side jobs.

“My brother used to be a pastor. He still is, if you think about it. He helps people.” She smiles at the bartender who brings her an amber beverage in a short glass with ice. She raises it. “Only one.”

I nod. “Whiskey or scotch?”

“Whiskey on the rocks. My dad used to drink it.” I inadvertently cringe as she offers a knowing smile. “Is your dad the one chasing you?”

Shaking my head, I smile at the cook, who hands me the vanilla milkshake. “Your food will be here in two shakes of a bunny’s tail.”

My brow raises as the taxi driver beams. “He’s such a hoot. Always got one of those sayings to share.” She leans in. “Half the time I have no idea what they mean, but they’re funny coming out of that large man’s mouth.” She cackles. “A bunny’s tail.”

A few minutes later, I’m gorging myself on tasty food and drinking my milkshake. The taxi driver finishes her whiskey. Here it comes… “Where are you planning to go?”

I shrug. I really don’t know. Twisting my hands, I just want to get back to my mom in Mexico, but it’s not safe. I have grandparents in Texas, but my dad’s family will be watching. “Not sure. I don’t have anywhere to go that they won’t find me. So, I’m just running.” My stomach settles as I eat the food. Who knows when I’ll get to eat something this flavorful again? I turn my head to the kitchen. “He’s a really good cook.”

She nods. “Cajun. He went to some fancy cooking school, but dropped out and ended up here. Lots of people end up here.” She takes a bite from her burger. “I’m Julie.”

I stare at the woman. What the hell do I tell her my name is? “Umm.”

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