“Took you long enough!” Margo says.
“I brought a few—”
“I said a gun,” Ron says.
“—guns. You have tons of guns and flags out there,” I say.
“It’s a long story,” Ron says. “I haven’t always played by the rules.”
I had begun to wonder if he’d keep his end of the bargain and hand us cash. But at this point, we had no other option: We had to trust Ron. My father always told me a man’s eyes are the window to his soul. I could see Ron’s promise sparkle in his eyes. Of course, I’ve been wrong about people before, though.
“Where the dude with binoculars go?” I ask.
“The flash grenade must have scared him.”
“No,” I say. “He’s still out there…somewhere.”
“What are you doing, Margo?”
“I’m getting us out of here,” Margo says, pushing the freezer from the door.
A window shatters as gunshots whizz through, bouncing off the walls. Margo falls to her knees, cackling to tears.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, crouching behind the coffee table, shaking with terror.
“I should have listened to you.”
“Had you listened to me, we wouldn’t be here.”
Margo rolls her eyes. “You and your guilt-trips.”
“Throw me that hammer,” I told Ron.
“What’s a hammer gonna do?” Ron asks.
I wondered if I should tell him he’s losing color. I pull Margo to the side. “He’s going to die unless we get him some medical attention,” I say.
“It’s not like we can call 911 or take him to the hospital,” Margo says.
“What about calling the police and—”
“—telling them we found a man in a gas station?” I say.
“I’m getting this money, and nothing is stopping me.”
“We’ve been shot at already,” I say. “We’re not going out there again.”
“I say we let the son-of-a-bitch pass away and take the money.”
“Really, Margo?” I say. “Do you ever think about anyone other than yourself?”
“Fine…but how long are we going along with this?”
As darkness approaches, we turn off the lights. It’s been eight hours since we’d stopped for gas. I’d hoped to be home by now.
“Stop daydreaming,” Margo says, shaking me back to reality.
“Exactly how rich are you?” I ask the man.
“I’m a billionaire.”
“And you only want to give one hundred thousand dollars?” Margo says.
“Fine, two hundred thousand,” Ron says.
I wave my hands. “Three—”
“Becca!” Margo says.
“—hundred thousand dollars.”
“Fine,” the man says. “You drive a hard bargain, kid.”
“How does your wife fit into all of this?” I ask.
“She got heavy into hard drugs. Cocaine, to be exact.”
“You didn’t like funding her habit?”
“I told her, I’d say it’s either me or the drugs. “We had a huge fight, and she left. I’d never heard from her again.”
“You’re sure she’s behind all this?” I ask.
“The man you saw out there is her new boy toy.”
I stroke my chin. “So, that’s why he wants to kill you.”
“You’re catching on,” Ron says as he starts to cough as if water sucked through a straw and spit out on the summer pavement.
“I can’t deal with another dead body,” I say.
“You know: My wife took everything from me except the money I had stored in a safe.”
“Thought ahead, didn’t you?” I say.
“I could feel it comin’ things weren’t getting better. To be honest: Things never were that great.”
“Why’d you marry her?” I ask.
“It’s a long story.”
“Did you love her at the time?”
“Where are you from, kid?” Ron asks me.
“I’m not giving out that information we’re…”
“Becca shut the fuck up about our status.”
“You girls are in some kind of trouble, aren’t you?” the man says. “Listen, maybe I can help you.”
Margo starts to laugh and then I give a courtesy giggle.
“You help us?” Margo says.
“How?” I say.
“I know the Sherriff…”
“We’re wanted for more than just…”
“Becca, shut up!”
“We have to tell someone!” I say. “We can’t keep running.”
“You’re helping me, let me help you.”