Whisky Throttle (Throttle Series, #1)

thirty-eight

Maddox

"Maddox will be fine," Vance says, slapping Calla on the back. She jerks away from him, frowning. "We're going to my place to do our laundry."

"So?" Calla demands. "What if someone follows you?"

"I doubt it," Vance snorts. "Uncle Roman doesn't know what type of vehicle I drive."

As Calla and Vance bicker back and forth, I turn my back and scour the area for any signs of loiterers. I adjust my hat, focusing on the parking lot and then the groups occupying the picnic tables while they eat their lunches. I scan them carefully, making sure I recognize no faces. Lindsay is coming up to stay with Calla for the weekend, which puts me back in my tent, but I'll trade the warmth of Calla's body for her safety. At least when I'm not around, she'll have someone to stick by her side. Not that I'm going to be gone long—just for four or five hours so I can tackle my overflowing laundry bin. Every article of clothing reeks of sweat and campfire smoke. 

Lindsay's expected presence doesn't ease the worry that's saturating my gut, though. I worry about Calla. I don't know if Vance kissing her is going to be enough false evidence to trick my dad. If he finds out Calla means something to me... I fear what will happen. I wouldn't  put killing her past him. He's ruthless. After punching him, he'll definitely want revenge. 

My gaze flicks back and forth, scouting the area one last time. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. Families and friends are gearing up for rides, enjoying their lunches, and smiling and laughing. Throughout my life, though, I've learned to not observe with ease. Just because someone appears to fit in with the surrounding environment doesn't mean they belong there. But no faces are recognizable. No smiles seem out of place or forced. 

My shoulders slump. I don't want to leave Calla. Lindsay will have to be enough. I can't go another day without doing my laundry. My closet is almost empty. There's no choice but to leave with Vance. 

"Fine," Calla sighs, bringing me back to the present. She tugs on my hand and spins me around. I stumble, but she catches me, her hands sliding up my arms to cup my face. "Be careful, okay?" she asks. Her blue eyes flicker with concern. "Stay with Vance and don't stray from his house. If you guys need to pick up food, go to Peachland." She pauses, a crease forming between her brows. "Or anywhere away from Kelowna and West Kelowna. Just make sure no one sees your face." 

My hands slide up and grip her wrists, leaning down to press a kiss to her nose. "I promise."

She smiles and pulls me into a hug. "I'll see you later," she whispers. And then she tears herself away from me, jogging back to the trailer. She doesn't say another word. She doesn't look back. I remove my hat and run a hand through my hair, feeling bashful. When the trailer door slams, I look up, fitting my hat back to my head. It's a good thing Calla is the sensible one out of us. If she hadn't of torn herself away from me, I don't think I would have let her go. I wish she would come with us, but someone has to look after the campsite and Lindsay's only stopping by for the evening. Next week is when she's taking over for the weekend so Calla can round up her school supplies and textbooks. 

"God," Vance mutters, grabbing the hood of my jacket. He tugs me towards his truck, making me stumble again. "You two sicken me."

Once I regain balance, I give Vance a shove. "Shut up, man. You're the one who's been sneaking off to spend time with Laurel during the weekend."

He scratches at his tattooed neck and shrugs. "So?"

I roll my eyes. Knowing Vance, he's going to rebound my comments until we're both blue in the face. "Fine," I say, wrenching the passenger door open. "Keep your secrets."

As Vance climbs into the driver's side, he shoots me a cocky grin. "Oh, sweet little cousin," he chuckles. "I'm not the only one keeping secrets."

I slam the door and turn my face in the opposite direction so Vance can't see the blush that's spread across my cheeks.