Across State Lines by Lauren Biel EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Lauren Biel
- Language: English
- Genre: Kidnapping Crime Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Kane
The thick scent of diesel smoke fills the air as a herd of eighteen wheelers idles in the truck stop’s side lot. Some of the truckers have
already bedded down for the night, tucked away in the small
compartments in the backs of their cabs. Others—like me—still sit behind
the wheel. Watching. Contemplating.
Decrepit lot lizards stroll by, their faces caked with makeup to cover the
wrinkles of age or the scabs from drug use. They seem to know only one
hairstyle tonight: stringy and greasy. They scuttle from truck to truck, more
like insects than lizards. Parasites.
I draw a cigarette from my front pocket and light it. None of these
women look interesting enough to pick up, so I lean back and inhale a cloud
of cigarette smoke rather than spent diesel fuel. My body begins to relax as
the nicotine finds a path to my mind, and I flick the ash out the cracked
window. I wouldn’t want to dirty my house, and for long-haul truckers like
me, that’s exactly what my cab is. My home.
“Hey, daddy!” a blonde catcalls from across the lot. She waggles her
stubby fingers at me, trying to catch my attention.
I turn my head as if she’s not there. I’m not interested. If I see someone
I want, she won’t need to beg for my attention. It’s like a rig this size
crashing into me when I see the right woman.
If it seems like I’m being picky, it’s because I am. I like a very specific
type of woman. Someone who still shines through the filth. Someone who
isn’t too far gone, unlike all the women skulking through the lot tonight. It’s
too late for them. The grime sinks to their bones, tainting them.
“You looking for some fun?” the blonde says as she reaches my window
and scratches her cheek until blood rises to the surface.
I raise the window, stifling her voice. Cigarette smoke fills my cab, but
that’s better than having to listen to the lot lizard’s attempts at begging. She
gets the hint and wanders to the next truck, her metaphorical cup still held
outward.
Settling back in my seat, my eyes catch on a raven-haired woman
standing on her own. She lacks the brazen confidence the experienced
women possess. As she clutches her elbows and peers through a sea of
metal and asphalt, she looks so out of place.
I look twice, just to make sure she isn’t an apparition born from my
desperation. When I’m certain she’s real, I roll down my window, lean out,
and whistle toward her with a wave of my hand. Greedy, drug-hazed eyes
turn toward me from all directions, but I’m only focused on her. I whistle
again, struggling to be heard over the rumble of engines, but this time she
turns her dark eyes toward me.
She points to her chest, asking a silent question. I nod, and she shuffles
toward my truck.
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