Page 7 of Bratva Hunter

I plaster a fake smile on my face. I have tons of practice pretending to be happy. “Sure, that’d be great.” I pat her arm. “Time to grab a little catnap.”

“Cool.” She leans back in her seat, and I blow out a breath, holding my bag against me.

I startle myself awake. “Shh. We’re pulling into the bus station.” The woman pats my hand.

I sigh. “Thanks.” Light fills the bus, and I get the first chance to see the various people who are traveling with me. No one has paid any attention to me except Riley. There’s no way she could have any connection to the cartel. We exit the bus as I scan the parking lot for any sign of anything sinister. There won’t be. I have my bag and my backpack, having tucked my purse in my bag. I’ll have to get a different bus ticket and head somewhere else. The lobby is bustling with people going in all different directions. No one seems to notice me at all as I step up to the counter, feeling less anxious.

An older woman smiles. “Where to, hun?”

“Um.” I look through the bus schedule. “Sioux Falls?”

She holds her stare and starts to nod. “We’re running?” Her hand touches her face reminding me that my face is bruised and cut.

Her question startles me. “Um.” I shake my head while I set my cash down. “No.”

“There’s a later bus to Sioux Falls instead, if you want a safe place to update your look.”

“Huh?”

She touches her hair. “My sister-in-law runs a salon nearby. She’s good with things.”

“Can I just walk in? And what would she do?”

“Your hair is so distinctive. You remind me of Snow White with your hair and eyes. Maybe a color change and something to cover the marks?”

She reaches across her area and palms a card. “Here’s her address. She’s next door to a cute boutique as well.”

I lean in. “Why are you doing this?”

She tips her head. “Once, I had a man who hurt me. I needed to get away, and I found sisters to help me. We all need help once in a while.”

I take the card and slip it into my pocket as she hands me my ticket. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, hun.”

I skirt off to the side and find the restroom. The mirror reminds me I look like a battered wife. Finishing in the bathroom, I hike my bags up on my shoulders and proceed out the door. I’ll just have to walk into the lady’s salon. But first, where to get a phone? I asked a security guard where I’d find a convenience store, and I’m heading there now.

The convenience store is dirty and crowded. The linoleum floors are smudged black and gray, hiding the white they should be. I keep my head down, tucking in my scarf. Men mill around the edges of the store, watching people as they go. I select two pay-as-you-go phones and two prepaid credit cards. I’ll load these with five hundred dollars each. This way I can rent a hotel room and set up Uber with one of my new burner phones. I move up to the counter and the older clerk pays no attention to me at all. He doesn’t look at me as he asks how much I want on the Visas.

I step out and notice Pittsburgh has a small-town feel. It reminds me of Portland, Oregon with the river nearby and the look of the trees as we pulled in. Hopefully, if the cartel finds out about my bus ticket, they’ll think I went to Oregon and search there. Across the street, there’s an art déco building that catches my eye. I walk into the salon, just down the street from the bus station and cringe as I enter. It’s bustling with patrons.

“Hi.

I smile at the receptionist. “The lady at the bus station gave me this card and said to ask for Janelle.”

She scrutinizes my face. Embarrassment creeps up my chest with the blush. “Sure. Hold on just one second.” She steps away and walks to the area of stylists behind the desk. She’s gone for a few moments and brings a lady back with her. The receptionistpoints at my bags. “You can set them close to the shampoo area and pick them up when you go. Meggie is going to wash your hair.”

I follow the cute blonde and stash my bags as she points to a chair next to a sink to wash my hair. I lean my head back into the sink as she sprays the water onto my head. “Your hair is beautiful.”

“Thanks. I’m hoping for a change.”

She smiles as we finish up. I hold the towel that she wrapped on my head and follow her to a separate cutting station near my bags. “Janelle will be here in a few.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

I walk to my bag and pull out the first of my burner phones and open the package with my little pocketknife my grandfather gave me. I slice the knife into the package and power on the phone. The salon is busy, and no one seemed to notice me when I walked back here.

A stunning black woman with an inverted bob walks toward me. “Hi.” Her smile is genuine as she oozes kindness. “I’m Janelle.”

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