Every Waking Moment

The heat became overwhelming. Too hot. Miserable. She wanted to find some relief. But there was no escape. Just as she feared there was no escape from the man she’d already lived with for five years. He’d never give up. He’d find her—

A hand touched her shoulder. She instantly recoiled.

“Emma?”

It was Preston. Breathing hard, she stared at him until the fact that he wasn’t Manuel could sink in.

“You seemed…agitated,” he said.

“The sun, it’s…hot on this side.”

He opened her air vent, which had apparently been closed, all the while watching her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Letting her eyes drift shut again, she nodded while waiting for her galloping pulse to slow. She still longed to slip into a peaceful sleep. But she knew she’d never relax now. Her dreams had made Manuel feel too close. She imagined him speeding down the highway, quickly closing the distance between them.

When Preston spoke a few minutes later, he lowered his voice as though he thought she was asleep, but Emma heard every word.

“Is that where the accidents happen, Max?” he asked. “In the bedroom?”

“What accidents?”

“Were you there when your mother burned her hand?”

“She burned her hand?”

Emma hadn’t mentioned the injury to Max. There seemed little point in making up a story to cover something he hadn’t noticed.

“You didn’t know?” Preston said.

“Maybe I was at the library with Juanita.”

Not the library. The park. Emma remembered well, because she’d been so grateful that her son was gone during her last big argument with Manuel.

“Who’s Juanita?” Preston asked.

“My nanny.”

“You have a nanny?”

“Yeah. She’s from Mexico,” he said proudly.

“Does she speak English?”

“No. She speaks Spanish like me and my dad.” Max had used the same kind of superior tone Manuel often adopted when speaking of his heritage, but if Preston was aware of the change, he didn’t react to it.

“I see. What about your mommy? Does she know Spanish, too?”

Max hesitated. Until the morning they’d left San Diego, and Juanita had shown up late, Emma had been careful around him. She wasn’t sure her son knew the extent to which she could both speak and understand Manuel’s native tongue, but finally Max said, “Sometimes.”

When I need to, Emma thought smugly. Manuel had tried to alienate her from his people, but it was his people who had made her escape possible. His people and the enigmatic man beside her, whose rare but gorgeous smile she already knew she’d never forget.

“WE HAVE A PROBLEM,” Preston said.

Emma’s nerves grew taut as she searched his face. They were only fifteen minutes from Ely and dinner. So close. But her escape had been ill-fated from the start. First Manuel hadn’t flown to Mexico as planned. Then she was pulled over by the CHP. Then she found that cop circling her car this morning and had to beg a ride from a complete stranger.

Instinctively, she craned her neck to look through the back window, expecting to see Manuel bearing down on them. He’d told her she couldn’t escape him. He’d promised that if she ever tried, he’d come after her, no matter how far he had to go, no matter how long it took. And she believed him. But except for the slower-moving RV Preston had passed only a few moments earlier, they were alone on the road.

“What kind of problem?” she asked, trying to stem her sudden deluge of fear.

“The engine’s overheating.”

The engine had been running a little hot while she was driving, too, but she’d thought that was more or less normal. They were traveling through the desert, after all, relying heavily on air-conditioning, which tended to tax the system. She’d assumed the van would be okay, especially since Preston hadn’t seemed concerned when she’d mentioned it earlier.

Evidently, that had changed. “How bad is it?” she asked.

He frowned as he applied the brake. “The gauge is showing red. We have to pull over.”

The tires crunched as they parked on the gravel shoulder.

“We’re getting out?” Max said eagerly.

“For a few minutes,” Emma told him, and glanced at her watch. It was after six. Considering the amount of insulin she’d given him at their last stop, he’d be going low if she didn’t feed him soon. And they’d already eaten most of their snacks. “You don’t happen to be a mechanic, do you?”

“I know stocks and bonds,” Preston said. “Not cars.”

Stocks and bonds. Somehow that seemed too yuppyish for Preston Holman, but Emma’s worry about their situation curtailed her surprise. “What do you think could be causing the problem?”

He bent over to pull the lever that would release the hood. “I’m guessing it’s the water pump.”

“That’s not good. If it’s the water pump, the van will only overheat again once we get back on the road.”

“Exactly.” He looked behind his seat and located a gallon of water. “At this point, I’m just hoping we can make it to Ely.”

“Then what?”

He brought the water into the front and opened his door. “I’ll have to get it fixed.”

Emma frowned. “But if Ely’s anything like the towns we’ve passed, they might not have a garage.”

“Ely’s got nearly five thousand people. There’ll be a garage.” He sounded tense, impatient.

“It’s after six o’clock,” she said. “The repair place, if there is one, will probably be closed.”

“Then we’ll have to get a motel.”

Damn. A motel meant they wouldn’t be continuing on tonight, and she didn’t feel she’d gone nearly far enough from where she’d almost been picked up for grand larceny. Not to mention California and Manuel….

“You’ll take us with you when you go on, won’t you?” Emma hated to press her luck. She knew Preston wasn’t any happier about the delay than she was. For whatever reason, he was in a big hurry to reach Iowa. But she had to ask.

He stepped out, not answering.

“Preston?”

It was the first time she’d used his given name, and she knew he’d noticed when he replied, “What was that, Emma?”

“You heard me,” she said, refusing to pander to his dark mood.

His eyebrows gathered as he glanced at Max, who was already clambering out the other side. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll take you as far as Wendover and put you on a bus.”

Sighing, Emma watched him go around front and open the hood. When he bothered to be nice, it was almost impossible not to like him. But Preston wasn’t nice very often.

He’s really been through the wringer….

Whatever happened to Preston Holman had definitely left a mark.

WHEN THEY LIMPED into Ely more than an hour later, Preston’s nerves were shot. They’d had to stop every few minutes to let the engine cool, which turned what should’ve been a short drive into something interminable. They were hot, irritable and hungry. Because he’d had to get under the hood so many times and didn’t want Emma or Max to see the gun he’d hidden there, he’d tucked it into the waistband of his jeans, where it was digging into him. And Max’s pleading to stop, to eat, to unfasten his seat belt or go home had become a litany. Preston couldn’t wait to be rid of his passengers. Fair or not—maybe because they were to blame for the other unsettling emotions he’d experienced today—he held them responsible for this recent trouble. He shouldn’t have let Emma and Max ride with him. He’d known they’d be a problem.

“There’s a garage,” Emma said, pointing helpfully as he stopped at one of the few traffic signals in town.

A blue corrugated metal building on the left boasted a red-lettered sign that read Mel’s Auto Repair. But the garage doors were down and the office looked empty.

“They’re closed.” Which wasn’t any wonder at nearly seven-thirty at night.

“Looks like it,” she said.

Swallowing a sigh, Preston headed back to the motel they’d just passed. He’d get a room, some dinner and some sleep, in that order. Then he’d deliver the van to the shop early in the morning and see about getting the hell out of this place. And Emma and Max…

He didn’t know what they’d do. If they were still around when the van was ready, he supposed he’d take them to Wendover as promised or maybe even Salt Lake. But he certainly wouldn’t be upset if they decided to find another ride in the meantime.

“I’m staying here,” he said as he gestured at the Starlight Motel and mini-casino. “Where do you want me to drop you and Max?”

Catching his not-so-subtle hint that they go elsewhere, she blinked at him as though momentarily lost, then lifted her chin. “Um…there was a smaller motel down the street. Maybe that’ll work.”

“That’s a dive,” he said. “Why not let me take you to the Hotel Nevada?”

She bit her bottom lip. “No, I think the other place will be less expensive.”

“It’ll probably be a difference of, what? Ten bucks?”

“The smaller motel will be fine.”

Preston bit back a curse. Was she that worried about ten bucks? He thought of the burn on her hand, and her words, I’ll do absolutely anything to make sure we never go back, and hated himself for dumping them. She was on the run with a kid and no car; she was desperate.

But he wasn’t the man to help her. He had only one purpose left in life, to seek and destroy, not play the part of the Good Samaritan. Besides, Emma didn’t need him, not really. A woman who looked as fine as she did could probably take her pick of Good Samaritans—good male Samaritans, anyway.

Fleetingly, he realized she could hook up with someone more dangerous than the man she was running from, but he refused to acknowledge it.

“Whatever you say.” He wheeled the van around, but when they reached the small, dingy front office of the Feel Good Motel, Preston couldn’t bear to let Emma get out without giving her some money. At least she and Max would get a good dinner tonight. That was something, wasn’t it?

The fifty landed in her lap before she could climb out. She stared down at it, then closed her eyes and shook her head in obvious disgust. “I don’t want your money,” she said, throwing it back at him. “I was asking for a ride to somewhere you’re going anyway. But I can see now that we’re too much of an inconvenience. You can’t be bothered with a woman. Especially a woman who has a child, God forbid.”

Preston clenched his jaw as her words hit him where he was most vulnerable. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t take you to Salt Lake. I just thought—”

“I know what you thought. You’ve made it crystal clear that you don’t want us around,” she said, and got out. “Come on, Max. We’re done riding in this car.”

“Take the damn money and at least get a decent room,” Preston said.

“Damn,” Max repeated. “Can I say shit and damn when I get big?”

“No,” she snapped. “And you can’t do anything else like Mr. Holman, either. If I have my way, your heart will never be three sizes too small. Say goodbye to Mr. Scrooge.”

“Mr. Scrooge?” Max echoed.

Preston didn’t hear Emma’s response because she’d already slammed the door. He watched her grab her son’s hand and stomp into the office. She didn’t even have any luggage. She carried only a backpack and a purse, a purse with apparently little money.

Dropping his head into his hands, Preston massaged his temples. She’d alluded to The Grinch, not A Christmas Carol. She had her Christmas stories screwed up, after all. But it didn’t matter. His heart was three sizes too small.

He hesitated a moment longer but, ultimately, the gun pressing into his back reminded him that she’d be better off making other plans, plans that didn’t include him.

CHAPTER SIX

MAX GIGGLED at a Tom and Jerry cartoon while Emma lay down across from him on one of the beds in their moldy-smelling motel room. They’d already walked to Elmer’s Drive-In next door, where she’d bought her son a hamburger and fries and given him what she hoped would be his final injection for the day. Happy to be out of the car, he was momentarily entertained, which came as a much-needed relief to Emma.

But she was getting hungry. In order to save money, she’d nibbled on a few of Max’s fries instead of buying herself dinner. Preston had scoffed at a mere ten bucks, but to Emma, every dollar counted. She had only twenty-five hundred to her name. If she and Max didn’t want to be out on the street when they reached the midwest, they’d need first and last month’s rent and deposit, and enough money to support them until she could find a job.

Twenty-five hundred wasn’t much to begin a new life with, especially a life filled with so many unknowns. She’d never used her degree. Would she be able to find work as a teacher? If not, would there be something else? Would they even be able to make it to Iowa? And without a car, how would they get around after they settled down?

She knew Preston had been her best bet for immediate transportation, but she didn’t regret what she’d said to him. She couldn’t ride with him anymore. The stress of trying to keep Max quiet for miles on end was making her crazy. And she couldn’t tolerate feeling like such a burden. She’d tried to be nice. She’d helped Preston drive and offered him money for gas. He’d refused, but she couldn’t spare him any kind feelings for that. Nothing seemed to make a difference. He just didn’t want them around. Period.

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