It was quarter past five in the afternoon when they stopped at a small strip mall that looked as isolated as the few cars parked in the lot. Lars went inside the shop while Finn leaned forward in his seat, hands draped on the steering wheel, and began scouting for a new vehicle for them.

The inside of the car reeked of dust and sweat, despite everyone opening their windows. If there’d been time, he’d have found a motel or something where they could all take a shower and at least get something to eat.

But there wasn’t.

“Finn.”

He glanced back at Cora, then straightened again. It was easier to stay calm when he couldn’t see her bright eyes watching him so intently. “What?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Finn asked. “Pissing off Javier?”

Cora sat forward, just like she’d done that first night they’d met. When she’d been trying to engage him in some inane conversation. Curious about the scar on his neck.

That felt like a fucking lifetime ago.

“For agreeing to let me do this,” she murmured, soft and intently enough that the hackles on the back of his neck rose in a flurry.

He shifted in his seat, but didn’t look at her. He was supposed to be looking for a car they could steal. One that wouldn’t be too difficult to hot wire, and that wouldn’t draw attention.

Why the fuck was Lars taking so long?

“Fuck knows why you have this suicidal urge in you, all of a sudden,” he said. “Who am I to stand in the way of idiocy?”

“We’re going to make it through this.”

And then he did look at her, because her voice had changed timbre. Her eyes weren’t flickering and uneasy any more. Come to think of it, they hadn’t been that way for a while.

Since last night.

Jesus Christ, why’d he have to go and think of that? He shifted again, itching to be out of the car and away from her voice. “You stick to the plan,” he snapped. “You give him the docs, you grab your father, you get the fuck out of there.”

Cora grabbed him by the shoulder of his shirt, tugged him a little to the side. “Stop worrying. I’ll be fine.”

Her ears brushed his lobe when she spoke. He didn’t like that one fucking bit. Especially when his body began reacting to her like she was a drug and he was just some stoned junkie. He closed his eyes, hoping that would help. It didn’t. It just made it easier for his sick mind to superimpose an image of Cora, naked, on the back of his eyelids. Flickering, like one of those old projectors. She stood in front of him, legs splayed. The shape behind her stroking her until she moaned. Lars, a dutiful entertainer as always, putting Cora though the hoops for his one-man audience.

“Okay?” Cora whispered.

Reality bloomed when he forced his eyes open again. He turned his head, leaning back so he could focus on her face.

He grabbed the back of her head, crushed her mouth against his, and kissed her until they were both breathless. When he pulled back, reluctantly, she still had a fist twisted in his shirt and a dazed look on her face.

Then that fog cleared, and her gaze sharpened. “What was that?” she demanded.

He swiped his thumb over her lips. “That was me kissing you whenever the fuck I want.”

Lars slammed the car door, making everyone inside the car jump. Cora hurriedly sat back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest and making a point of looking away from him.

She could pout all she wanted, he was still pissed at her.

He rummaged in the bag he’d brought back from the convenience store, and handed out bottles of water and snack bars to everyone, tossing Cora’s and Angel’s into the backseat like he was at a zoo and they were in the primate cage.

Cora glared at him when the snack bar hit her shoulder, and didn’t make a move to pick it up from her lap.

“Fine,” he said. “Starve. See if I care.”

She thumped the back of his seat with her bare foot. And then looked surprised when he dumped a pair of sneakers in her lap. Despite having taken the longest time going through the aisles trying to judge the right size for her feet, he now hoped they’d be too big. Clown big, even. So he could have a reason to laugh when she slapped around in them.

Then he tossed another pair at Angel, who picked them up from the footwell with a frown.

“Gracias,” Angel murmured, and began untying the laces.

“Hey, we wear socks in America,” Lars said, and tossed him a pair of socks. “Be civilized.” The guy caught them out of the air without looking up, and muttered another “Gracias.” This one didn’t sound as grateful.

“Mine?” Cora asked.

“They were all out of pink.” And then he faced forward, forcing the sight of her pretty pout from his head. There was a pair of scissors in the bag too, but he’d deal with that fact later.

He tore open his candy bar and bit into it, scanning the lot. “You pick one yet?” he asked through a mouthful of chocolate and granola.

Milo pointed to a Toyota parked closer to the end of the lot, under cover of a one of three trees in the parking area. A normal shopper would have chosen one of the many open spots in front of the building, but that tree would provide shade all day, making the car less of an oven for its owner to step into at the end of their shift. Even from where they sat, he could see the passenger side window was open a crack.

“Good catch,” Lars muttered, and bit off another chunk of his candy bar. “Go. I’ll hoot if I see someone.”

Milo climbed out the car and ambled across the parking lot. A casual observer wouldn’t have noticed, but he did a thorough sweep of the area as he feigned a sore muscle in his neck, and then slid into the tree’s shade. With his dark clothes, that almost made him invisible from anyone walking around the strip mall in the late afternoon sun.

Lars drummed his fingers on the dashboard as he watched Milo rock the window until it came off its tracks and then open the door and slide inside. His silhouette moved around animatedly for a few seconds as he checked all the usual spots where people hid a spare set of keys; center console, change tray, the glove compartment. His silhouette held up a hand which, Lars assumed, held a spare key. Milo slid over into the driver’s seat, and a second later the car’s engine turned.

Lars climbed over the SUV’s console and adjusted the seat for his long legs. “Buckle up, kids,” he said, swinging an arm over the back of the passenger seat as he scanned the lot behind him so he could reverse the car out. “It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

He followed Milo out of the parking lot.

They ditched the SUV a few miles away, close to a culvert. Lars glanced askance at Cora, who watched the car plow through some scrub with zero emotion on her face. He’d handed her the scissors a little earlier in their drive and told her to cut off her other jean leg. They were a bit uneven, but should pass a casual inspection. The stretch of bandage on her injured leg was more noticeable, but he’d bought another roll and she’d wrapped it over her dust and blood-stained ones. Her hobble had gotten worse; she leaned against Angel as they waited for Milo to come back up the rise from where he’d been arranging a few branches around the back of the truck that still jutted into sight.

Milo slid into the passenger seat. The interior was half the size of the SUV—there was barely enough room for everyone’s elbows and legs.

“When this is done,” Lars said, twisting the rearview mirror so he could see Cora’s face in it. “You and me, we’re having a talk.”

Something flashed in her eyes, and her lips trembled as if they were on the edge of a smile.