Page 86 of Tangled Up In You
“How about you get some sleep,” Gloria told her. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Steve took a step into the bedroom and looked out her small window. “I’m telling you, Gloria, we gotta leave tonight.”
Tonight? While they talked, Ren looked around the room, trying to formulate a plan, a voice inside her head whispering the same word over and over: Run.
“We aren’t even close to ready,” Gloria argued. “Even if that boy manages to narrow it down, we’re not easy to find.”
That boy. Edward.
Ren’s pulse rocketed. She filed back through every story she’d told him, every detail she’d given him about the homestead and the little town. Could he figure it out? Could he find her?
Steve shook his head. “I have a bad feeling about this. We gotta go.” He nodded to Ren. “She knows now, and others might, too. What do we do with her?”
Ren’s head snapped up. “Do with me?”
“We take her,” Gloria answered. “No one else knows it’s us but her.”
Gloria’s words sent a wave of nausea rolling through her, and for a few staggering breaths Ren thought she might not be strong enough to process what she meant. No one else knows it’s us but her.
A whistle cut through the sky, followed by a deafening crack that shook the entire cabin. They fell to the ground, each of them covering their head as light spun across all four walls of the small bedroom. When Ren chanced a glance up, the darkness outside had been blown apart, light flashing in intermittent starts and stops.
Gloria rushed to the window as a streak of gold whistled through the sky and exploded in color immediately overhead. More of them came, one after another, explosion after explosion filling the sky with color.
Fireworks.
Steve turned, yelling at Gloria. “You see that? Gloria, they know!”
Before Ren could make sense of anything, she was shoved to the bed, and Gloria loomed over her. “Stay put. Do not test me, Ren.” And then she turned to Steve. “Get the guns. I’ll get the keys.”
They ran out of the room, and Ren looked around frantically, trying to form some sort of plan. Steve had said, They know. Did that mean these fireworks were for her? Her heart screamed his name—Edward—but her mind slapped the fantasy away; he was on the other side of the country. Even if he did figure out where she was, she’d left him—why would he come here?
When a burst of orange and gold erupted in a shot of sound outside, Ren looked out the window and down the front drive, trying to figure out what direction the fireworks were coming from.
But it wasn’t just fireworks. In the distance and around the bend of the long drive were the pulsing, rhythmic whirls of red and blue.
The police were here. It had to be him. It had to be. Who else would know where to find her?
Adrenaline dumped into her veins, a starter-pistol blast jolting her to action. With Gloria and Steve occupied, screaming through the cabin to each other to pack up their guns and clothes and money, Ren gripped the sill and tried to pry the window open.
“Please, please, please,” she whispered, panic rising like an ocean swell in her chest. It didn’t budge. Ren scrambled to her small desk, finding a metal ruler to wedge in the frame and use for leverage. Quickly, she worked it around the edges of the frame before wedging it beneath the bottom, seesawing the ruler up and down. Finally, the sill gave the tiniest bit, groaning with a winter’s worth of stiffness, and Ren winced, listening for the halt of movement in the rest of the cabin. As quietly as possible, Ren worked to get the window open wider, finally giving up when she hoped it would be enough and wedging her body into the narrow opening, pushing her head and shoulders through.
Behind her, she heard Gloria’s surprised “Steve! She’s going out the window!” Panic swelled, and Ren pushed harder, feeling the wet slide of blood down her neck as she scraped her chest against the sill, shimmying to get out her waist, her hips, her thighs—
A strong hand clamped around her ankle. “No you don’t,” Gloria growled, and leaned back, tugging hard.
Ren kicked her legs and reached for anything she could find, trying to get leverage to pull herself free. Gloria’s grip tightened, and she shouted for Steve to go out the front and catch Ren on the other side.
With panic sending fire into her pulse, Ren screamed in the quiet between fireworks, the two hopeful syllables cutting a shrill knife through the air—“EDWARD!”—and finally managed to wrench one leg free of Gloria’s grip. She kicked once more—hard—and felt her foot connect with something soft. A groan sounded from inside, and then Gloria’s hands fell away and Ren tumbled to the ground just as the front door opened.
Steve’s eyes met hers. “Stay right there, Ren,” he warned, racing down the front steps, but she scrabbled to her feet, pushing off into a sprint down the driveway. In the distance, she could see a line of cars, flashing lights, and the silhouette of figures.
“Edward!” she screamed, praying he was there. She had no one else. Nothing else. He was the only person who hadn’t betrayed her. “EDWARD!”
In the moonlight, she saw a commotion and then two figures breaking away from the line, sprinting toward her. Instinctive fear pulsed for a flash before an explosion went off overhead, the gentle raining of blue and silver illuminating the homestead. She could see them. They’d broken free from the barricade and were sprinting right for her.
“Ren!” Edward yelled. “Run!”
Gunfire sounded behind her; a whistle seared past her head, close enough to send goose bumps down her arm.