Page 29 of Poisoned Pawn
Movement in the corner of my eye draws my attention to the other car that parked up, and I see the two occupants getting out. The two men seem to climb from the car in sync and close their doors. Both in dark jeans and jackets and their backs to me, they move toward the building. As they reach the path outside the entrance, the driver turns and looks over his shoulder back to the car, then his gaze skims over Carter’s car. I’m not sure how much he can see inside the car, but as his mouth moves obviously calling out to his friend, I know he’s spotted me. His friend walks back toward him and they chat for a second or two before the driver points in my direction. The other guy pats his mate’s chest, and they exchange some bro fist bump shit with enormous grins on their faces as white teeth gleam in the faint light coming from inside the entrance. My pulse jumps rhythmically inside my neck, thumping against my clammy skin and my heart races alongside it. As the driver takes a step forward, he pauses, then they both turn to look behind them. Following their gaze, I see Carter has now joined the guard at the small desk carrying a large bag over one shoulder while he holds a gun in the other hand that is firmly pointed at the guard.
“Oh shit!” I mutter and reach for the door handle, slamming against it when it doesn’t open. It’s enough to bring me to my senses, and instead I climb over into the driver’s seat. The rumble of the engine starting has the two guys looking back over at me as I put it in drive and fly forward. I head straight for them, and they split apart, then run for their car as I come to a grinding halt right outside the entrance. I slam my hand down on the horn and see Carter walking backwards toward the door as he continues to point the gun at the guard who is holding both hands in the air and looking terrified.
I open the window as the automatic doors open and yell, “Get in the fucking car!”
As soon as Carter is clear of the doors and they whoosh closed, the guard moves to the desk. I flick the door lock as Carter reaches the driver’s side back door and opens it, tossing the large bag inside. He runs round to the front passenger side and climbs in. As his arse hits the seat, I hit the accelerator and head for the exit.
“Turn right,” he barks at me as he clicks his seat belt on.
I do as he says, but inside I’m steaming mad.
“Take the exit for the M56 at the next roundabout.”
“What the hell was that?” I ask flicking on the indicator to turn left onto the slip road. The motorway is quiet at this time of night, and I sail into the middle lane.
When he doesn’t answer, I glance over at him and find him fiddling with a small black box with a microphone attached to it.
“What’s that?” I ask, not at all confident I’ll get an answer to this question either. I don’t. He simply unclips his seat belt and leans between the two seats into the back. Closing the distance between us and a car up ahead, I slip into the outside lane and overtake. The movement jostles Carter causing him to knock into my shoulder, and I immediately become aware of how close my elbow is to his junk. I contemplate ramming my elbow straight into his crown fucking jewels.
“Don’t even think about it, princess,” he says dropping back into his seat. “And I ain’t going to quit calling you that, so don’t even say it.”
He opens the glove box, dipping his hand inside for a moment before coming back to grab a lead from his lap and then plugging it in inside the glove box. He plugs the other end into the device I asked him about and switches it on. Static crackles through the car for a moment before faint voices can be heard as he turns a dial on the side. He listens intently to each voice before switching to another channel on what I guess is some sort of CB radio or scanner.
The next voice I hear is a police handle and it becomes clear he’s listening in to the old bill. I focus on driving for now and let him listen. After an hour, he switches to another channel, and I pick up the use of some type of slang that doesn’t mean much to me.
I spot a sign for services and move into the slow lane ready to come off at the next exit.
“What are you doing?”
“Stopping at the services. We aren’t all emotionally stunted or robots. Some of us have needs, and right now, I have a need to pee.”
He lets out a heavy sigh, and I catch the last part of an eye roll that morphs into a deep frown.
“Problem?” I ask already knowing he absolutely has a problem.
“Yes, she goes by the name of Star, but I prefer princess because I like how much it fucks her off. You need to learn some restraint.”
I drive up the slip road and take the first exit at the roundabout to the services.
“I have plenty of restraint. If I didn’t, I would have left you back there instead of subjecting myself to the torture of being stuck in this car with you heading who knows where.” I look over at him with a hyperbolic smirk. I pull into the car park, and despite the hour, it’s quite busy.
“And just how far do you think you would have made it without me, huh?”
His lack of faith in me stings more than a little. Swinging the car into the nearest space, I slam the brake on causing Carter to lurch forward and almost get up close and personal with the dash. That’s what you get for not wearing a seatbelt.
“Restraint has nothing to do with bodily functions. Condescending, egoistical psycho,” I snap as I switch the engine off and turn to face him. “You need to learn not to underestimate people based on their outer appearance or what you think you know.” I throw the keys into his lap and climb from the car before he can respond.
Inside, there are only a handful of people grabbing drinks and snacks for whatever journey they are venturing on at this late hour. I spot the sign for the toilet and briskly walk that way. The bank of cubicles is mostly empty and after checking for one that doesn’t have a mountain of toilet paper stuffed down it, no paper at all or unidentifiable but easier enough to guess stains smeared inside the bowl or up the wall, I settle on one and do my business.
Back out in the main area, which has now emptied somewhat, I walk slower and think about what the hell I’m doing. As I pass a public telephone, I almost stop knowing that if I leave now, I’ll have lost perhaps my only chance at contacting Roxy. I double back and pick up the handset, scanning the area before dialling 100 for the operator. I give her Roxy’s number and wait nervously for her to pick up.
My breath catches in my throat as I hear her voice.
“Star?”
“It’s me,” I say over the top of the operator as she asks if Roxy will accept the collect call. Relief and anxiety roll into one as I hear the click of the operator dropping her end of the call. “Rox—”
“Star, are you okay? Where are you?”