The Box by Jeremy Brown (ebook reader with built in dictionary TXT) 📗

this time the other two came with him.

When Nora racked the slide on the compact pistol, everybody froze.

Grigore frowned at Connelly and turned his head, and Connelly peered over his shoulder at Nora, standing there with the gun aimed at the floor somewhere in the middle of the triangle formed by the Romanians.

“I told you idiots to knock it off.”

She spoke through bared teeth, her eyes slashing from Grigore to his two pals and back.

“Now turn around and get out of here.”

Grigore chuckled and looked at Connelly.

“This woman, she is something.”

“You heard her,” Connelly said, with no idea how he should be acting right then.

The man to his right, furthest from Nora, said, “Grigore.”

Grigore looked at him and the man lifted his shirt, showing the butt of a pistol stuck in his belt.

Grigore shook his head, then turned and put a row of tables between himself and Nora while he strolled toward the front of the restaurant, watching her the whole time.

“Who give you gun?”

“Shut up and keep walking.”

Grigore tsked.

“Guns, very dangerous. You need to be careful.”

The other two backed up to their table but didn’t move any closer to the front door.

Grigore joined them and sat down, still watching Nora.

“I told you to get out of here,” she said.

“I’m hungry,” Grigore said. “Not bullshit Hungary, like your friend. Hey, friend.”

Connelly waited.

“I’m going to bury you in that shirt.”

Nora said, “Adam, get your things.”

She kept her eyes on the Romanians and the gun pointed at the floor while Connelly got his guitar case and sweatshirt and coat. He carried all of that with his left and used his right hand to dump Nora’s food into his basket, which had his half-finished burger and most of his fries.

He backed toward the hallway again and told Marie, “I’ll bring the basket back tonight.”

She was still standing there with the two empty baskets, her eyes wide and blinking like hummingbird wings.

Connelly went along the back hallway with Nora right behind him, both of them watching their trail and listening for chairs scraping on the floor.

Connelly used his butt to open the door and they pushed out into bright sunshine and a shock of cold air.

“My car,” Nora said.

Connelly followed her to the Lexus. She used her fob to pop the trunk and Connelly dumped his stuff in but kept the burger basket and carried it to the passenger seat.

Nora left ruts in the dirt when she pulled out of the spot, then another set when she turned onto the road and accelerated away from Len’s.

Nothing was happening in the rear-view mirrors.

Connelly glanced down at the pistol, which was resting barrel-first in the middle console cup holder.

He looked over at her, and she looked back at him with wide eyes and pursed lips.

He said, “Holy shit, Nora.”

Then he burst out laughing and she joined right in, releasing stress like air shooting out of a balloon, the adrenaline coursing and letting them know they were still alive.

Chapter Ten

Nora drove them out of town in the passing lane of the southbound road, whipping past other cars and big rigs until Connelly reached over and touched her hand on the steering wheel.

“I think we made our getaway.”

She glanced down at the speedometer.

“Oh, shit.”

She let the Lexus coast until it was at the speed limit, then set the cruise control.

“Where are we going?” Connelly said.

“I don’t know. I’m just driving.”

“Burger?”

He held the basket up, and she seemed to notice it for the first time.

“Oh, no. I think I might throw up, actually.”

She pressed shaking fingers to her lips.

He could have told her about the blood sugar drop that came after an adrenaline dump, and how when that passed her body might want to feast on food and drink and pleasure.

But Adam the wandering bard wouldn’t know all of that, so he stayed quiet and put the food between his feet.

“Take some deep breaths. If we see a gas station, let’s stop and get you something to drink.”

She moved her hand back to the steering wheel.

“I think I’m okay.”

“Then can you please put the gun away? I think it’s still loaded.”

“God, yes, you’re right. Here, steer for a sec.”

Connelly put a hand on the wheel while Nora ejected the magazine and worked the slide to eject the round in the chamber. She pressed the round back into the top of the magazine and slid it home, then put the pistol in her bag.

“Uh, okay, Annie Oakley,” Connelly said.

Nora shrugged.

“You grow up around here, you learn to shoot.”

“I kinda figured that, but like…shotguns and deer rifles. What is that thing?”

“It’s a Sig Sauer P365.”

“Sure. Of course. Look, Nora, I know this is all happening fast and we don’t know each other very well, but…”

She glanced over at him.

“Will you be my bodyguard?”

She laughed, relieved he didn’t ask her to let him out of the car.

“Sorry buddy, that was a one-time deal. You didn’t know what you were getting into back there, I did.”

“What was I getting into?”

“They were going to hurt you. Badly.”

She stared out at the road and Connelly assumed she was replaying the incident and her role in it, the decisions she’d made, what she could and should have done differently, if anything. It was keeping her from focusing on what he had done—namely splitting Grigore’s face open—and that was good.

He said, “Just because of this stupid shirt?”

She nodded.

“Yeah, that stupid shirt. Well, and because of me.”

“You? Why?”

She took a deep breath and told him.

Nora said, “You know how I asked you about corporate takeovers last weekend? And you took a guess about how that’s what happened with my folks?”

“Sure. I remember everything we talked about.”

She indulged him for a moment, letting him know with a look she knew what he was doing, then moved on.

“Well, that’s pretty much what happened, except it wasn’t a corporation. It was—still is, actually—a group of people.”

“Like a co-op?”

“No. More like a gang.”

Connelly leaned toward the door to get a better look at her.

“A gang? In Iowa?”

“It’s…How