A/N: I don't know a thing about how banks run, I took a lot of latitude in this story to fit my plans. Please excuse me I know it doesn't work like Tara and Jamie did it.
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She didn't say a word as he pulled out. He chanced a glance over at her, he didn't want to be creepy or scare her. This girl looked a little skittish, like a bird caught in a trap.
They drove for a while and every so often he would look at her. She seemed okay from what he could tell.
Her hair was curly and up in a loose bun, with tendrils falling all around her face. Looking closer, he saw a deep bruise on her collarbone, just below the line of her shirt. Someone beat her up, but not her face.
That meant it wasn't the first time, whoever did it, knew where to hit so no one would see.
That made him so angry. His father had hit his mother once when he and Merle were little, gave her a black eye. He has killed in a car accident not soon after.
Daryl was not stupid; he suspected his Uncle Abe had something to do with it; a little slice in the brake lines or something.
Merle was sure of it, and they didn't care. You don't hit women, period, especially his mother. They didn't even cry at the old fuck's funeral either.
You don't hit women. Period.
"Where ya headed ma 'me?" He asked.
"I'm Jamie, call me Jamie." She said looking over at him with the bluest eyes he had ever seen.
They were like the ocean he had seen pictures of; he had never been out of Georgia.
But if he had seen a real ocean, her eyes would be like it; he was sure.
"I'm Daryl." He replied, thinking she probably didn't give him her real name. But he told her his; it was on the side of the truck.
She started to laugh, holding on to her backpack. Whatever she had in there must be substantial Daryl thought to himself. Maybe she had gold bars in there, or she had robbed a bank.
She clutched it tight after she got in, thinking twice about throwing it around the cab of the truck, be supposed.
"What's so funny?" He asked, thinking she was making fun of his hick name. Even though he had just met her, this woman exuded class; she was someone special. If she were making fun of him, he wouldn't blame her.
"Nothing at all." She laughed. "Do you believe in fate Daryl?"
He considered this. He did not believe in that or any other kind of magic or witchcraft. He believed in what he could see with his own two eyes.
This woman was running, apparently from something bad, that he could see.
"I believe in cheeseburgers, no offense Jamie, but you look like you need one." He said grinning just a little.
Then she laughed this incredible laugh that sounded like music to him. The radio in his truck didn't work, but he had all the music he needed right now.
"Yes, I could use one Daryl." She replied.
He nodded and came to a stop at the next intersection. There was a diner on the corner, Daryl turned right and pulled into the parking lot. He motioned her to wait as he stopped the truck and cut the engine, then he got out of the truck and walked around to her side.
His Mamma raised a gentleman after all.
He opened the door for her and helped her out. She went for her backpack, and he huffed at her.
"You can bring that but you ain't paying."
"I have money." She said.
"That's great, but you don't need it here."
He said leading her into the diner. She brought the backpack.
"You landed in Georgia, lady not New York City, people's beautiful here. I invited you, I pay."
He said nice with a drawl that made her hair stand on end. She wouldn't insult him by telling him she was well aware of how people in New York were like. She had just come from there.
Jamie didn't want to talk, but she would listen to his smoky voice all damn night. She had never heard a real southern accent before. She picked the right direction to go in, yes she did.
Her backpack was full of money, and she had been hitching, as he called it, for three days. Since she clocked her husband with an expensive sculpture that was on the foyer table in their penthouse on Park Avenue.
He hit her for the last time.
The money came from their accounts and a safety deposit box Greg kept that he didn't know she knew about. Her best friend, Tara, worked at the bank and Greg didn't know her.
Tara was from AL-ANON, that's where they met. It was a group for spouses and loved ones of Alcoholics. Jamie was there because of Greg. Tara because of her sister, Claudia. They had known each other for three years.
It was always the plan for Jamie to disappear. She and Tara had been planning it for eighteen months.
Tara had broken protocol by telling Jamie about the safety deposit box, but it could never be traced back to her. She let Jamie in the safety deposit box too, which was illegal. But it was after hours and the cameras had gone offline because of a storm.
It was dumb luck really, one of those things that you see in movies, everything happened and lined up just right.
On June 9th, 2015 Jamie Paterson disappeared with a butt load of her husband's money.
She hitchhiked through four or five states; she lost count, afraid to rent a car or let anyone see her. Because she knew, he would be looking for her. Well, not her exactly.
Greg would come after the money; she had fifty thousand on her right now, and the other four hundred fifty thousand was in a locker at a bus station in Atlantic City, New Jersey.
It was close enough so Tara could retrieve it if she needed it. If she had to, she could hitch back up there and get it herself if she needed to. Maybe she would buy a car at some point if someone would sell to her without ID, because sure as the sun came up every day, Greg was probably already looking.
But right now she wanted that cheeseburger, with the stranger who had the bluest eyes she had ever seen and that smoky, sexy voice unlike any, she had ever heard before.
Notes: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think.