Page 4 of Ouch! My Vampire Doms Keep Biting Me
Staying here is no longer an option.
I have to get the fuck out of Altera. Hell, I should leave Kinasey County.
I need to text Clarissa back—I can’t leave without saying goodbye. Fingers shaking, I manage to type out,Something terrible happened. I’m in trouble. Can’t trust Dale. I’ll get in touch as soon as it’s safe. I love you. Be careful.
Three little dots appear as she responds, but I don’t have time to wait to see her message. I yank open my door, climb out of the car. Dropping my phone onto the driver’s seat, I grab my messenger bag and my purse.
Then I run.
It turns out that it isn’t easy to run in flip-flops. I do my best, though, trying not to trip. My bag and purse slam into my side with every step, even after I attempt to secure them by looping the straps over my shoulder, across my chest.
Clarissa’s apartment is close to downtown Altera, and it doesn’t take long before I find an ATM. I take out the maximum amount of cash possible—five hundred dollars—and hurry toward the bus station.
Not many people are out this late, but the few who are give me a double take. I must look unhinged, the way I’m crying and rushing around. Quickly, I wipe my face and school my expression. I slow my pace. Cool, calm. Hours of etiquette tutoring at Dale’s insistence are coming in handy. I need to project the image that I belong here, that I am hereon purpose, with a purpose. I don’t want to fill the space, but I want to own my part of it. Every proper young lady’s instruction for a gathering of powerful people.
My attitude switch seems to help. I’m less conspicuous now.
The bus station is well-lit, and more crowded than I would’ve expected after midnight. I stride up to the ticket booth, halting when I realize I don’t have a destination in mind.
Wherever gets me the farthest away, the fastest. I need the closest big city where I can disappear. Los Angeles, preferably.
The next bus for Los Angeles doesn’t leave until tomorrow afternoon. That won’t work.
But San Esteban…that bus leaves in an hour.
San Esteban is a few hours away, located between here and LA. It’s a shining, glittery city with a sexy reputation. I’ve neverbeen there. Dale wouldn’t guess that I would choose it as a destination.
Before I ask for a ticket, though, I stop.
Cameras are probably everywhere in this station. With his connections at Altera PD, Dale would easily have someone review them.
No bus ticket yet. I duck into a bathroom, breathing hard. How can I get a ticket and get out of here without Dale figuring it out?
An outfit change, first of all. If I could cut and dye my hair,Fugitivestyle, even better. But oh, surprise surprise, I don’t happen to have freaking hair dye on hand.
I put on my hoodie. I could pull the hood over my hair, but it looks too much like I’m trying to disguise myself.
A woman enters the restroom with a young boy. He’s wearing a baseball cap. That could work.
“Hey,” I say, “could I buy your hat from you?”
The woman frowns at me and speaks rapidly in Spanish, telling me not to talk to her kid.
“Please pardon me,” I say in Spanish, addressing her. “I’m in trouble, someone’s after me. I need to change my look. Can I buy his hat?”
She looks me up and down, makes a tsking sound, and gives her kid a questioning look. He nods.
I hand over two twenties.
She looks me up and down again, then opens the large backpack she’s carrying. She hands me a coat and tells me to trade her the hoodie. Then she passes me a long, flowing red skirt, which I pull on over my leggings. She finds a pair of glasses, too.
“Do you need these?” I ask.
“They’re reading glasses from the store. I can buy another.”
After I jam on the baseball cap, she shakes her head. “Put up your hair.”
Of course. I hadn’t thought of that. I do as she said, tucking in my long, light brown hair. Then I put on the glasses, which make my vision go a little wonky, and check myself out in the mirror.
