I've cussed on a Sunday
I've cheated, and I've lied
I've fallen down from grace
A few too many times
But I find holy redemption
When I put this car in drive
Roll the windows down and turn up the dial
My Church, Maren Morris
Z
The drive was tense and silent. To say I was in my head was an understatement. Han hadn't seemed his normal lackadaisical self either. Even in the dark, I could see his eyes shifting towards the rearview anytime headlines shone behind us.
The sun came up to reveal black clouds in the side mirror that were magnificent. They were tall and threatening, stretching as far as I could see behind us. I propped my head up on the window so I could watch them in the side mirror. It seemed fitting that there was a black cloud following me with the mood I was in.
I felt low, and I wasn't sure why. It was like I didn't have the energy to be anxious anymore. I didn't think this trip was a good idea, but it wasn't the worst. Han was a fugitive, and things were going to be hot for a while. He'd lay low in Mexico City while he waited on things to blow over, and then he'd been out of Mexico. I could still plead ignorance if anything happened, but nothing was going to happen, just a few romantic nights locked in a Mexico City hotel while the rain hammered the city.
No, Han was not the man in my life that was worrying me; that position belonged to Brian. He hadn't texted the entire time I was in Mexico, but the kidnapping had changed that. Brian was not sure what to do next, and I could tell it was eating him alive. I had a knot of dread in my stomach, thinking about the case.
"Did punching me in the face kill the mood?" Han finally asked. I didn't turn to look at him, but I heard the click of the lighter and smelled cigarette smoke.
"The smoking might," I answered dryly. I could practically feel him shrug without turning to look at him.
"I've got to stay awake somehow, and you don't look like you're in the busy hands kind of mood."
"I'm sorry. When I called home, they said there'd been a kidnapping." I blurted without thinking.
"A kidnapping? That's not really your jurisdiction." He said it so calmly and smoothly that I almost blurted out that, of course, it was, but I stopped myself. I had a feeling he didn't really believe the therapist lie, but I wasn't sure he'd landed on cop yet.
"I had a lot of cops as patients." I finally replied. "I can tell you how to set up a kidnapping investigation, who to look at, who probably did, all of that business from guys that have come into appointments and relived it over and over again. I know the guy working it. It's not going well at all. They're about to send out cadaver dogs after this kid."
"You think the kid is dead?" He asked.
"I don't have any real information to go off of other than that, but I can't stop thinking about it. I wish I was there. I'd-" I'd do what? I was benched. I'd be in my apartment waiting on a grand jury to clear me for the shooting. I'd be just as useless as I would be out here. "I don't know what I'd do, but I've volunteered on search teams before."
"You get sucked in, don't you?" Han as he tossed his cigarette out the window. I watched him expertly pluck another one from the pack and light it.
"I can't turn it off. I talk to people about how to deal with their feelings all day long, but I can't get a handle on my own. I'm terrible at following my own advice."
I pulled a cigarette out of Han's pack. I turned it over in my hands as I remembered the feeling of a cigarette between my lips while we rehashed murder scenes over and over behind the Portland police building. I'd had some of my best revelations with a cigarette in my hand.
There was a click as the flame jumped to life in Han's hand. He looked at me expectantly, but I shook my head. He let the flame die on the lighter before he turned his eyes back to the road.
"I'm okay. I just need a distraction. A damn good distraction."
A smirk spread across his face. It was always lopsided and wanton, and it gave me feelings I didn't think I needed to be feeling at that moment.
"I think I can handle that."
He swung the car to the side of the road, scattering dirt with the tires. I shot him a questioning look as he put the car into park and started opening the door. The fact that he was letting me drive didn't dawn on me until he walked around to my side and opened the door. I crawled over the center console before he could change his mind. It didn't take me long to adjust his seat and put the Road Runner in gear.
He didn't react when I pulled back onto the road like a bat out of hell. In fact, he looked even more relaxed as he settled in the passenger seat and lit another cigarette. The smoke curled languidly in front of my face and made my sinuses burn. It also made me crave a cigarette for the first time in years.
"If I let you grab my boob, will you quit?" I asked him sharply. He flashed me a white smile before he tossed his cigarette out the window.
"Last one. I'm done." He tried to tell me.
"If you're really done, toss the pack too. Just rip the bandaid off." I was mostly teasing.
He looked scandalized for a second and picked the pack up. He cradled it in his hands like he was protecting them from me. I smirked at him as I pushed the Road Runner a little bit faster.
I needed this. I wasn't thinking about Brian suffering alone at work while I was goofing off. I was just thinking about the road and racing the hurricane. I was starting to relax. The silence became a lot less uncomfortable. Han only spoke when he directed me towards Mexico City.
We were hitting the outskirts of the city when a car came up behind us. I glanced in the rearview expecting to see anything but a cop car. I slowed down to a more reasonable speed immediately. I probably needed to do that anyway; fat raindrops were starting to hit my windshield.
Han had been stretched back in his seat like he was about to doze off, but when he sensed my tension, he sat straight up. He stayed cool, but my heart was in my throat, and every nerve I had was on edge. Without waiting on Han to say anything, I took the next right turn.
I breathed a short sigh of relief until the cop turned too. I could not get caught in this car. I couldn't talk my way out of this. I had no international driver's license or FBI badge on me, and Han was a wanted criminal. I would be in a world of trouble with the FBI if I got caught in a car with Han.
I was getting ready to run, but I decided I'd make one more turn. This time, the cop stayed straight. I actually did breathe a sigh of relief. I glanced at Han, who was staring at me with an unreadable expression.
"What?" I finally asked. His full lips pulled back into a wide smile.
"You might be a little more like us than I thought."
"Just tell me where we're going." I snapped. My heart was still pounding. My blood pressure was probably through the roof; this wasn't a fun game anymore.
"Get back on the road we were originally on." He pointed behind us. With a sigh, I turned around in the middle of the empty street. "You're going to love this place."
Z
Well, he lied.
The apartment he took me to seemed to be towards the center of the city. The building's lobby was covered in ornate old tile and made a statement of elegance and charm; the bare-bones apartment did not. It was on the top floor, so I had a great view of the people moving in the streets below in the torrential rain, but that was about all there was to say about it.
The living room had a couch and a coffee table placed on top of a worn, faded rug. The bedroom was slightly better furnished with two nightstands, a bed, and a dresser, but not much else. I had honestly been surprised to open the cabinets and see plates and glasses; I was half expecting it to be empty.
Han seemed to feel the same about the place. Every time he looked around, it looked like he was looking down his nose at the place. I found that extremely amusing, especially considering this was actually his apartment. He had several changes of clothes in the drawers and a few jackets and shirts hanging in the closet.
I'd nosed through every drawer in the apartment while Han was in the shower; there wasn't much else to do. I'd found an unopened expensive bottle of whiskey in the back of a drawer under a kitchen towel. Encouraged by the find of something interesting, I kept looking. I slid open the nightstand drawer expecting condoms and more alcohol, but instead, there was a gun.
It was a Smith and Wesson 9mm Shield, the same as my service weapon.
I felt like I was back in the wine cellar. I wrapped my fingers around the grip and squeezed. I felt the gun slide out of my waistband holster. My wrists strained as I pointed it up without fully extending my arms. There was a crack that echoed in the small space, the sound of shattering glass, and the smell of red wine. Then there was the weight, crushing the breath out of my lungs. Then the blood. The lights in my face. The voices around me, telling me everything was fine when it wasn't.
The click of a door made me jerk around. I wasn't in the wine cellar; I was sitting on a lumpy bed in a penthouse in Mexico City. I slammed the drawer shut, but I knew the guilty look all over my face was not fooling Han. He stood in the bathroom doorway, wearing nothing but a towel. His hair was ungelled and hanging over his forehead, but I could tell his eyebrows were pulled up.
"I-" I swallowed thickly.
"I'll unload that. I'll make sure it's moved." He gestured towards the drawer.
"No!" I cut in quickly. "No. I'll do it."
The drawer felt like it was made of concrete when I reopened it. I'd had my service weapon taken away immediately after the shooting, and I hadn't touched one since. I didn't want to now, but avoidance wasn't going to fix anything. I had to do this.
My hands were shaking as I picked up the gun. I unchambered the first round as quickly as I could. It fell to the floor with a loud clatter that made me wince. I quickly ejected the magazine. It didn't seem like it was enough, so I field stripped it down, dropping the pieces in the drawer as I went. I felt Han hovering by my shoulder by the time I finished and slammed the drawer shut again.
"You've handled a gun before." He said no question in his voice.
"I was in the Army for a hot second. I had some issues with my shoulder and got out." I sighed as I pulled my feet up on the bed and my knees to my chest, turning so my back was resting against the pillows.
Han joined me, carelessly discarding the towel onto the rug as he slid under the sheet. I know I should have tried to hold it together, but I couldn't. The second he settled against his pillow, I rolled in him, burying my face into his chest. He seemed to be expecting it and just wrapped his arm around me and let me soak up his body heat. With the sound of the rain pounding against the roof, I fell asleep.
Z
It rained for days. We spent the first one lazily wrapped up in each other, staring into space, but after that, I couldn't take it. I went to some of the museums and started to explore the beautiful city while Han stayed home. I made it a point to attempt to speak Spanish to the locals. I was slowly learning and getting more comfortable in my surroundings. I was starting to feel like I didn't need Han all of the time, and that was a good feeling.
On day four, I stepped out of the bathroom after getting dressed, expecting Han to still be lying in bed, but instead, he was dressed and ready. He had on a simple grey t-shirt and jeans. I instantly had the feeling that those were his garage clothes.
"I wish you looked that excited when I was taking clothes off." He teased as he pulled his socks and boots on.
"You're going to work on the Road Runner," I answered confidently. How I managed to keep the excitement out of my voice, I wasn't sure.
"No." He answered shortly. My face fell a little. "You're going to do it."
"You trust me with that?" I asked, trying to be flirty. He shot me a winning smile and tossed me the keys off his nightstand.
"Can't be a street racer if you can't work on your own car." He replied breezily, stepping around me to exit the bedroom. I trailed after him like a puppy.
"What are we doing?"
"Changing out the fuel pump." He opened the apartment door for us, closing and locking it as soon as I stepped out.
"Is that hard?" I asked. At least I could guess what the fuel pump was for. Han pursed his lips.
"We'll see."
Z
Changing the fuel pump was hard, but it was so worth it. I was grease-stained and dirty, but I was happy. I couldn't stop grinning at Han as I drove us in a loop around the city with the windows rolled down to let in the heat and sunshine, taking in everything there was to see.
Han's long fingers played with the frayed hem off my shorts against my thigh while I drove. He had proudly been cigarette free for four days; mostly because I stole the remainder of his pack and smoked it on the balcony when Brian calling me for investigation help stressed me out.
The only time I could forget about the FBI completely was when Han gave me the keys. He knew and was gladly letting me take them. It was the only thing that brought me peace. I couldn't last, but for now, I'd take it. If this was what it took for me to put myself back together, then running away with Han was worth it.