Page 6 of Rush Turner
I hated him for it. I hated how much I liked it more.
“Suit yourself, sunshine,” he murmured. “But I’m not going far.” He threw some money on the table and followed me out.
5
Rush
The cake should’ve calmed her down. It didn’t.
She sat stiff in the passenger seat, arms folded tight, her face turned to the window so I couldn’t read her eyes. But she wasn’t fooling me — her knee bounced, her breaths came shallow. She was terrified.
I let the silence stretch as we rolled down the dark backroads out of town. She said she lived in the next small town. The dash lights cast soft gold over her face — pretty even when she was glaring at trees.
“You’re still staring,” she snapped, voice too sharp to hide the tremor underneath.
“Yup.” I flicked my eyes back to the road. “It’s a good view.”
Her knee stilled. Her mouth opened, then snapped shut.
I bit back a grin. Gotcha.
JESSA
I hated him. I hated how calm he was. How safe this stupid, creaky truck felt while I should be in my apartment, triple-bolting my door and pretending I could sleep with a steak knife under my pillow.
I pressed my forehead to the cold window. The quiet stretch of road blurred by — pine trees, old barns, and empty driveways. Too quiet. Too dark.
Something crawled up my spine—an old, familiar dread.
“Rush,” I murmured before I could stop myself. “Do you ever feel like… someone’s watching?”
He didn’t flinch. Just calmly flicked on his brights, scanning the roadside. “Sometimes. Do you want to tell me about it?”
“Yeah.” I hated how small my voice sounded. “I… I don’t know. Maybe I’m just—”
The headlights caught it. A dark SUV was parked half-hidden behind a billboard. No reason for it to be there. No lights. No driver visible. It must have been waiting for someone.
Rush’s jaw locked. His knuckles went white on the wheel. He didn’t say a word. He hit the gas.
RUSH
I’d seen enough stakeouts to know when a vehicle was waiting for someone. That SUV wasn’t there by accident. And it sure as hell wasn’t parked there at night to admire the billboard for Bob’s Bait & Tackle.
Jessa stiffened as the truck sped up. “Rush—”
“Put your seatbelt on.”
Her hand fumbled for the buckle. “You think that’s him?”
I didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. Her silence told me everything I needed to know: she knew exactly who ‘him’ was — and she’d been lying to me.
I turned down her road, checking the rearview. Nothing yet. But I knew shadows when they followed. He was waiting for her car to pass on the road. He didn’t know she was in my truck.
When I parked in front of her tiny apartment, she moved like she wanted to bolt inside, slam the door, and pretend I didn’t exist.
I caught her wrist. Gentle. Unbreakable.
“Sunshine,” I murmured, leaning close enough that she could feel every ounce of the truth in my chest. “I’m not leaving you alone tonight. You can fight me. You can pepper-spray me. I don’t give a damn. But I’m staying.”
