Blue Blooded by Shelly Bell Page A

too wound up to take a nap. More likely he was too much of a control freak to give up the wheel.
    â€œ ’Bout an hour north of Florida. This is the last stop before we get to our point of destination, so use the restroom and grab whatever you need. I’ll meet you back at the car in fifteen. Keep your head down and don’t do anything to draw any attention.”
    She got out of the car and slammed the door, her knees creaking from the hours of sitting. “You don’t need to tell me that every time we stop, you know.”
    He dipped his head, a look of contrition on his tired face. “Sorry.”
    A sliver of regret managed to worm its way into her heart. On top of not sleeping all night, the stress of the situation had to prove just as difficult for him. She shouldn’t have snapped like that. “No, I’m sorry. I’m always cranky when I first get up. Mainly because I don’t get more than a couple hours of sleep at night and I survive on coffee, which I haven’t drunk since this morning. I know you were only trying to help.”
    Something passed between them at that moment, as if they’d both finally accepted they were in this together. It was too exhausting to hate him. Even she could admit if he hadn’t come along when he had last night, she may have lost it and given away her presence, getting herself killed as a result.
    Together they walked into the dirty store of the gas station, avoiding making eye contact with the other customers. The place was falling apart with holes in the walls and cracked tiles in the floors. Her toes curled when she spotted a mouse darting under one of the store shelves.
    Logan had mapped out a route to keep them off the highway, so they stuck to lots of back roads, making sure to stop at places that most likely wouldn’t have surveillance cameras. No grainy black-and-white images of her and Logan showing up on the news. So far, the story hadn’t hit the national airwaves. Hopefully, the FBI was assuming they were still in Michigan.
    After using the washroom, she nabbed a coffee and a packaged cupcake and paid for it at the register, following Logan’s instructions not to look the clerk in the eye. She took her meal outside, enjoying the fresh air. The weather was humid and much warmer than what they’d left back in Michigan. She took a deep breath and walked past the car toward the grassy area. It felt good to use her legs after being stuck in the car for endless hours. She wasn’t used to sitting still for long. Which reminded her—she’d missed her private session with her Pilates teacher this morning. No wonder she was so stiff.
    After sipping the worst coffee she’d ever drunk, she unwrapped her cupcake and took a huge bite, not surprised to find it stale. She dropped both her drink and the cupcake in the garbage. Guess now was as good a time as ever to start a diet.
    â€œStupid mutt,” a male voice shouted, followed by a loud thud.
    Across the field of grass, a man kicked a dog in its side for what she guessed was at least the second time. His head bowed in submission, the dog yelped and edged backward, trying to get away, but the man held its leash, still yelling at the animal as if it understood English.
    Furious, she marched over. If there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was bullies. As the man raised his booted foot once more, she reached the scene and jumped in front of the dog, her arms spread wide. “Hey, you. Stop that. You’re hurting him.”
    â€œExcuse me?” The guy sneered but, luckily for her, lowered his foot to the ground. She was in no mood to get kicked. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”
    She pointed her finger at him. “You made the dog my business as soon as I saw your boot connect with his rib cage.”
    â€œDog ate my lunch when I went inside. He needs to be taught a lesson not to do it again.”
    The dog no longer