Page 32 of Hell In A Handbasket
“Sadly, that won’t work either.” She pastes on a fake-apologetic expression and tilts her head to the side. “See, Felix’s plane no longer has clearance to fly, and should it ping any tower, anywhere within the continental US, it’ll be considered a threat to national security and stopped, by any means necessary.”
“Sophia!”
“Besides, you don’t actually know the coordinates of where we are right now, so even if you tried, you wouldn’t be able to direct your recovery operation effectively, since ‘Bumfuck, Idaho’ isn’t very specific.
“All this because you want me to wear a friggin’ helmet?” Aubree snarls. “Seriously? Give me the damn thing and let us get this shit out of the way.”
“You willnotwear her fucking helmet.” Minka snaps. “She’s not a lab rat, Sophia. She’s not a toy. And she’s not for you to test. She’s a human being who has a right to share, or not share, her gift however she sees fit.”
“I’m done with her anyway.” Soph waves her off with a playful smile. “If she were legit, she would’ve known what I was doing from the start. The fact that she let you get on the plane means she’s a fake.”
“Sophia!”
“She’s intuitive,” Soph shrugs. “She’s smart, which means she observes those around her and guesses correctly at a rate slightly higher than average. That’s not reading minds. It’s luck.”
“So I guess we’re done then,” Aubree counters. “You revealed me for the fake I am. Time for us to leave?”
“Find us a hotel please, Archer.” Minka turns and meets my eyes. “Just for one night. Give us a chance to figure out our next move, and give Debbie somewhere to rest. Then we’ll go home tomorrow.”
“Oop. Sorry.” Soph scrunches her nose. “There are no hotels available either.”
Slowly, homicidally, Minka turns. “Why not?”
“There’s this wedding in town tomorrow, and I don’t know if you know, but almost every single human I’ve ever met is here for it.”
“Oh, hey!” A woman stops on the other side of the street, with wild, curly, blonde hair and a little boy on her hip. “Hey, Soph!”
Smug, Soph waves.
“No hotels,” Minka growls. “No cell service. No cabs. That’s what you’re telling me?”
“But we have the bus,” Jay inserts playfully. “Fully decked out with a banging sound system, cruise control, icy cold air, and, when we’re under the right satellites, free Netflix. Also, we counted beds, and it turns out, we have enough.”
“I’m not sleeping on your bus! I’m not playing this game. I’m not staying in this fucking town, because you brought us here with a lie.”
“You wouldn’t have come if I told you the truth.”
“No shit, Solomon! Because you’ve wasted our time, got Cato assaulted, stressed an expectant mother, red-flagged Felix’s plane, so now we’ll never know if we’ll be shot out of the sky in the future, and you fully intended to violate Aubree’s right to privacy.”
“Oh, cool,” Cato drawls. “Consent matters again?”
“Shh.” Raquel makes a slicing motion with her hand in front of her throat. “I can’t defend you from this many angry chicks at once, kid.”
“Come back into the diner,” Soph grumbles. “Eat your food. Hang out. We’ll sleep on the bus tonight, since I can’t clear Felix’s plane fast enough to bring it back right now anyway. Then tomorrow, we’ll take you to the airport and you can go home again.”
I look across our crowd and wait for Tim’s silent response, a gentle nod of his head, and his hand going out to tug Aubree against his side. Then I go to Felix for his, and Micah’s next. If this is chess, then Soph’s got us in check, and there’s no way in hell any of us are letting the girls sleep on the street tonight.
Finally, defeated, I drag Minka around and force her to lean on me just long enough to regulate her breath. To calm her temper. I massage the back of her neck, and when the bulk of her rage subsides, I tilt her head and search her eyes. “None of us have eaten since Copeland, so if you’re about to throw hands, you need to eat first.”
“If we sleep on the bus, I can kill her with her own pillow.”
I cough out a soft laugh and steal a fast, dry kiss. “That’s the spirit. I’ll be your lookout. Come on.” I tap her butt and meet Jay’s eyes in warning. Because if he doesn’t move Soph out of the fucking doorway, she’s gonna end up with a busted rib.
Chuckling, he slings his arm over Sophia’s shoulders and walks her inside and back to the plate she left behind, and though Minka’s bag remains on the counter, I steer her to Aubree and Tim’s table and pull a chair out.
“I’ll get your things.” I press on her shoulder and force her to sit, then dropping a kiss on her temple, I wait for Tim’s eyes to make sure he’s on guard.
Catch her if she starts running with a knife.
