My Funny Valyntine: Book One - The Pull

Chapter Twenty-Five - The Lamp is Low

i.

Latin and Valyntine don't stay in the secret apartment for long. As soon as he closes the hatch in the floor, Latin bounds to the window. Peering between slats in the broken and warped blinds, he keeps watch for a long minute. He might be looking for possible pursuers, or waiting for the streets to be clear, or something else; Valyntine doesn't know for sure. She's too out of breath and still in shock to bother asking. Scenes from The Robin's Nest keep flashing through her mind in grotesque detail. Latin gives a sudden turn of his head from the window.

"Be ready," he says to her and bolts from the room, leaving the door ajar.

Valyntine rushes over, daring to use enough space for one eye to gaze through the crack in the door. She watches as Latin, in small, fast movements, jimmies open the passenger side of an old, battered, two-door Merit someone drunkenly parked on the curb. Turning back, he gives a frantic gesture with his arm for her to join him. Valyntine dashes out to the auto. Latin has already jumped inside, sliding over and into the driver's seat, making more rapid movements with his hands at the steering column.

Valyntine closes the door as the Merit's gears grind and whing to a sputtering, reluctant start. Latin forces the shifter into place and speeds off. Looking in the cracked side-view mirror, she sees the exhaust billowing black smoke in their wake.

They drive in silence. Latin keeps a logger's grip on the steering wheel, the veins of his forearms bulging around the lean muscle. He keeps their speed above a safe level with his eyes staring forward, unblinking. Valyntine is confident his thoughts are playing out similar to hers. Wrestling with the events at the Nest, her anxiety manifests in digging her fingernails into her thighs. She waits for his grip on the wheel to slacken before speaking.

"Where are we going?"

"Back to Oriole," he says, his voice distant.

"Your apartment? Thought you said-"

"We don't have a choice," he cuts her off, agitated.

Valyntine lacks the energy to coax more information out of him. She leans her head against the window to watch the passing street lamps hanging over the road, counting them to distract from the image of Sonny Boy forcing his fist into his mouth, and the sounds of his muffled screams. Latin drives them to the far north end of Blueberry Hill where the upper tip meets the lower corner of Turrentine District in the North Borough.

He takes them off the main roads after passing into Montgomery. The move reminds her of Taboo's strategy, relying on alleyways and backstreets to return to the row of tall, luxurious apartment buildings in Oriole District. Latin stops the stolen Merit a block from their destination. Leaning forward, foot on the brake, he folds his arms over the steering wheel, squinting at the well-lit street before them.

"Think anyone is waiting for us?" she asks, unsure if he will answer her.

Sitting back in the seat, he sighs.

"They already know we're here."

Slamming the gearshift down, releasing the clutch, and stomping on the gas, the Merit lurches down the street. Headlights from at least three different sources brighten in front of them. The Merit whines and belches as Latin grips the wheel. Valyntine watches the lights in front of them growing brighter. They're about to ram headlong into the oncoming autos when Latin pulls the emergency brake up while jerking the steering wheel hard to the left. The Merit's tires wail, the force presses Valyntine against her door as at least two of the pursuing autos collide with each other in the alley entrance.

Latin drives down the narrow passage, romping on the brakes so hard they come to a sliding, screeching halt a few feet from the hidden lift. He is shoving the key into her hand, pushing and urging her out the passenger side of the Merit.