Runner's Moon Trilogy Megabook Series (15 page)

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Carl sat in the four-by-six-foot cell, staring at the bars but not seeing them. His thoughts were elsewhere; his vision directed inward.

His hand hurt. He'd forgotten to bring his pain pills, and now he regretted it. But—crap!—he'd been half-asleep when he'd climbed into his truck around four that morning and aimed for Clearwater. Drove like there was no tomorrow for Tumbril Harbor. Prayed all the way up here he'd find the bitch and that walking dildo she'd run off with.

Son of a bitch.

Once he reached the harbor's town limits he realized he had no idea where to start looking for them. He vaguely remembered the guy driving a blue pickup but the make of it eluded him. It was an older model; that was all he could recall. Of course he could have gone from motel to motel, hoping to spot a blue truck, and with a little luck find them.

But he soon realized there were too damn many blue trucks in Tumbril Harbor.

Shit.

While filling up, he'd seen a guy talking on a pay phone at the Gas 'N Go across the street. They still had pay phones in these dumpy little burgs? Anyway, that had given him an idea.

He still had that picture of Hannah they'd had taken at the fairgrounds a couple of years ago. Back when she was still 192

fresh and innocent. Taking it out of his wallet, he started at one end of Main Street and walked into every store to show them the photo and ask if they'd seen her.

An hour later, and with no leads to go on, he was ready to take a break and get a bite to eat. That's when he'd climbed into his truck and went in search of the restaurant someone had recommended to him.

The light at the one and only intersection in town had gone yellow when he'd approached it. Any other day he would have run the red. To hell with it. But for some crazy reason he had hit the brakes, skidding just short of the crosswalk.

Just how lucky could one guy get? There she was, standing at the corner, waiting to cross. Dressed in jeans and that little blue tank top that always showed off her tits. Her hair was up in a ponytail like she always wore it. The side of her face that had been one large bloody mass the last time he'd seen her was looking better. It was still somewhat blueish and lime green, but it was Hannah.

And the bitch spotted him! He had been as stunned as she was when she got a gander at him. And then—boom!—she'd taken off lickety-split. Started running as fast as she could toward some motel. He'd hit his horn but she'd ignored him.

She disappeared into the motel office just as the light changed.

Bitch.

He was quick to turn around and pull into the motel parking lot. Some old gray-haired crone came to the door but wouldn't let him in. She'd locked it from the inside and refused to budge. What the hell else was I supposed to do?

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Hannah was inside and wouldn't come out to talk to him or nothing. The old biddy had left him no choice but to get his tire iron and smash the door in.

Hey, Hannah is my woman. What right did she have running away from me like she did?

And who the hell was this Jeb Morr bastard who had abducted her?

Yeah. That's what he did. He abducted her. Broke into my home and kidnapped her.

After that Jeb guy had crushed his hand and taken off with Hannah, he remembered finding what was left of the door handle on the ground near the open door. It was a little after three in the afternoon. Surprised the hell out of him to realize Hannah had gone with the son of a bitch.

At first he'd thought she'd gone to the hospital, but when he called the emergency room, they hadn't seen her. Neither had the first aid clinic at the other end of town. It had been a relief to find out she hadn't been to either. The last thing he needed was for the cops to haul his ass back to jail because of a stupid little fight.

He'd made it over to the diner to confront that Barbara woman who worked with Hannah, but she wouldn't tell him nothing. It wasn't until he reported the break-in to the police, and they'd come over to check things out, that Monty Allwine next door told him it was some guy named Jeb Morr who had been over that morning and taken Hannah away. Allwine was retired Army, and sometimes did some electrical work for B

and A Construction as a sub-contractor. He'd recognized Morr from the job they'd done at the new First United States Bank.

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He also told Carl that construction at the bank was over, but he had no idea where Morr was, or where the man could have gone with Hannah.

Of course the police said they could probably put out some sort of alert in case anyone saw Hannah, if Carl thought she might be in any kind of danger. But because she wasn't a minor, they told him she had just as much right to pack up her things and run off with the guy as anyone.

Which left Carl pretty much hung out to dry.

Thank God for friends like Manuel Rosas. If the man hadn't put the bug in his ear about what he'd overheard at the construction office, he would've never been able to figure out where that asshole Morr had taken her.

He flexed the fingers of his uninjured hand. Okay, so he'd gotten a little carried away with the tire iron. Christ, it wasn't like I was gonna hurt 'em or anything. It was just a goddamn door. Yet here they were trying to make a federal case out of it.

The door at the far end of the tiny jail rattled, then opened to reveal the figure of the deputy sheriff who had closed him up in here.

"Make yourself presentable. The judge wants to get you taken care of before she goes home today."

"Well, ain't I lucky?" Carl muttered with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

The deputy snorted as he unlocked the cell door. "Better stick that attitude where the sun don't shine, or else you'll be sitting in here for the next ten days until she gets back from the Virgin Islands."

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Carl started to make an off-color remark about the judge and Virgin Islands, but decided against it. He didn't know this woman, and she didn't know him. If he had any luck left to him, he could be out on the streets in another hour or two.

And if he was, there was nothing that was gonna stop him from getting what he came here to get in the first place.

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"How do I marry you?"

Hannah dropped her fork on the floor. Jeb watched as she bent down to pick it up and put in back on the table.

"Sorry. Wh-what did you say?"

"I know on this world when a man and a woman want to show their commitment to each other, they have a wedding ceremony. I've seen it on television." He smiled around his egg salad sandwich. "We don't have such ceremonies between Ruinos. Once a pair are bonded, it's pretty evident to everyone."

"Why would you want to marry me? I mean, you don't have to. I mean ... I don't want you to feel like..." Hannah toyed with her knife and tried not to look at him. It was clear she was fighting with herself. From her conflicting scents, Jeb could tell she wanted the marriage ceremony but for some reason she didn't want him to feel obligated. Reaching out, he laid a hand on top of hers nervously fidgeting with the silverware.

"Do you want to get married? The truth now, Hannah. I'll know if you tell me differently." He spoke low and soothingly.

Obviously what he had intended as a casual discussion had unexpectedly taken a different turn.

She shook her head. The light blonde highlights in her hair glistened in the overhead lights. "Yes, Jeb. I do. Every girl dreams of what kind of wedding she'll have when she grows 197

up and finds the man she'll love forever." Lifting tear-filled eyes, she continued in the same tone of voice he had used.

"But I know most guys don't want to feel tied down. They don't want to be ... I guess the word I'm looking for is obligated. They don't want to feel as if they're tied down to just one woman."

"Hannah, I'm not most guys." His brows lowered slightly.

"I'm not Carl."

"I know that," she started to protest. He cut her off before she could go any further.

"Then tell me what we have to do in order to get married."

"Not a whole lot, really. You go to the courthouse and buy a marriage license. Then you find a minister who'll perform the ceremony." She made a slight face, her gaze directed down at her half-eaten BLT. There was a pause as he gave her time to say more, but after another minute, it was clear she wouldn't.

"I think the ceremonies I've seen on television were a bit more elaborate than that," he commented.

Hannah picked up a french fry and nibbled on it. "What do you mean?"

Jeb sniffed loudly to make a point, adding a grin. "You're being evasive."

"Stop sniffing me. You mean the fancy white gown and flowers and all?"

"You know exactly what I mean. Hannah ... why are you fighting me on this?"

"I'm not fighting you."

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"Like hell you're not. When I first mentioned it, your heart started beating faster than a herd of running horses, but your words aren't reflecting what you feel. You say you want to get married, then in the next breath you say it isn't necessary."

He leaned over the table to make his next point. "You are in my bloodstream, Hannah. Permanently. It goes without saying I'm not human, so don't try to compare me with the other men who've been in your life. With those men who've treated you shamefully."

She chewed on another fry. "Weddings cost money."

"T'korra, that's not a problem."

At his casual response Hannah stopped chewing. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. Money is not the issue here. Now ...

what kind of wedding do you want?"

"For real?"

"Yes, Hannah. For real."

Two teardrops in perfect alignment rolled down each cheek. She sniffed and hurried to brush them away. "Can we invite Barb?"

"Anyone you want."

A twinkle sparkled in her eyes. That lemonade smell he loved was coating her skin. "I want her to be my maid of honor. You're gonna need a best man."

Jeb took a swallow of water and set down the tumbler.

"Not a problem. Simon's ready to rip up the road to come meet you."

"Tear up, you mean."

"What?"

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"You mean he's ready to tear up the road. Not rip." After she giggled, Hannah added, "The accent gives you away, but your misuse of our slang is adorable."

He smiled. "Give me a few more years." Suddenly serious again, Jeb leaned over toward her. "The day we landed here, we did not believe either of us would find a life partner among the inhabitants. Simolif and I had ... we had resigned ourselves to spending the rest of our lives alone. Free ... but alone. So tell me what else we'll need."

"Well, most people get married in a church. My mother was Baptist, but I haven't been to a tabernacle in years."

Biting her lower lip, she mulled over this small road bump as the waitress came over to see if there was anything else they needed before leaving their check. Hannah watched her walk away. "Jeb, give me a sec."

She got up from their booth and approached their waitress who had gone behind the counter lining one wall of the café.

Jeb knew she was up to something as he watched her speak with the woman.

They had napped for nearly an hour. Since they both had missed lunch, they had gone to the café for a quick bite before he headed back to the mill.

When she returned to their table, there was a big smile on her face. "I asked Melanie if they were looking for help here. I told her about working at the diner in Laughlin, and that I was willing to help in the back, if necessary. She said they were always looking for another waitress, and I should call Mrs. Tulle tomorrow morning. She's the owner."

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"Hannah, you don't have to get a job if you don't want to.

Trust me, I can take care of you."

"I know that, but I don't want to sit at home twiddling my thumbs and watching soap operas like Mrs. Newburg. I've worked at all kinds of jobs since I was twelve. I'd get bored out of my skull if I didn't have something to do. Besides, I like waitressing. You get to meet all sorts of interesting people that way." She added a wink to her last statement, causing Jeb to chuckle.

He paid their tab and followed Hannah outside to where she was standing on the sidewalk in front of the truck.

"Jeb?"

"What?"

"It makes sense now."

"What makes sense?" He unlocked the passenger door and opened it for her.

"Why you go running at night."

He closed her door and walked around to climb in the driver's side. "Go on. I'm listening."

"You said your world was an agricultural planet, and that your people grew plants and trees and stuff, right?"

"That's right."

"Where did you work before you came to Laughlin?"

"Corinth Point."

Nodding, Hannah looked pleased with herself. "Figures.

This northeast section of the state is one giant forest. It reminds you of home."

He flashed her a smile but made no reply and backed out of the parking spot.

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She stared at his profile as he drove her back to the motel.

"That's why you're green, too. It's natural camouflage. It allows you to blend in with your surroundings."

"Why are we discussing my coloration instead of our wedding?"

"Give me some time. I need to decide what I want. It's not like we're in any kind of hurry ... are we?" She turned wide, questioning eyes at him.

Again he didn't answer her, but he could tell she was busy figuring out what she wanted to do. As an added incentive, he repeated what he'd told her earlier. "Don't worry about cost, Hannah. It's going to be your only wedding. And mine." He grinned.

"Can I ask how we're going to pay for it?" There it was again, that apple scent of her concern.

"I have some money in the bank."

The apple aroma grew more distinct. "Would you get upset if I asked how much money?"

Jeb sighed. It would take some time before she could approach him without flinching. Or expecting a caustic comment or the back side of a hand. Helping her overcome years of domestic violence was not going to be a problem. It was that huge scar on her psyche she would never lose that would forever haunt him.

"Umm. Hold on. Let me find out."

He made a sudden turn into the parking lot of a car parts dealership. Swinging around, he drove back the two blocks to the bank and pulled up next to the ATM machine. She 202

watched as he removed a bank card from his wallet and stuck it in, keying the four digit pin number.

"My code to everything I use is ten twenty-two. Remember that," he told her as he punched the button to request a balance.

Hannah had recognized the familiar blue and green logo on the card. "You use First United States?"

"It's where my accounts are, yeah."

"Why ten twenty-two?"

"It's the date we landed," he replied and handed her the slip of paper.

The numbers didn't register at first. She had to say the amount out loud before her brain would register what she was seeing. "Sixty-four thousand, two hundred eighteen dollars and eleven cents." She nearly gasped. "Sixty-four thousand?"

"I've been working for nearly five years while staying at low-cost motels. I didn't need much in the way of material possessions. A new shirt or pair of jeans every now and then.

I paid cash for this truck. I have the insurance set up as an automatic payment through the bank." He pulled back out onto the main road.

"Sixty-four thousand dollars?"

"I know. I need to transfer some of that over into CDs.

Haven't gotten around to it." He glanced over to where she was still staring at the bank slip. "That's what's in the checking account."

She blinked. "Good Lord, Jeb! How many accounts do you have?"

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"Six, I think. A couple of savings account and some certificates." He flashed her a smile. "Simolif gets a call every so often from Viharrud. He invests for several of us. Every so often I send him a thousand, and a few months later Simolif lets me know he's holding a check for me." Giving her a quick glance, he added, "We know the importance of money on this world. We know it can buy us security and help when and if we need it. That's why at least a dozen of us work at building up our money. We aren't thinking of it as investments for the future like your race does, Hannah. It's for our protection today."

"My people would collect guns and weapons. You collect money." Hannah slowly shook her head. "I don't think I've ever seen this much money at one time in my life."

"It's yours."

"Huh? What? Mine? You're joking, right?"

"It's all material, t'korra. When you've been enslaved for over half your life, you quickly learn what's important. I want our wedding to be everything you've always wanted. Can you plan one for that amount? Or do you think I'll need to cash in one of the CDs?"

A frown suddenly darkened his face as they pulled into the motel parking lot. Hannah glanced up to see why he had suddenly stopped talking and spotted Mrs. Newburg standing out in front of the office. She was flagging them down and looking very perturbed about something.

And it didn't look like good news.

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