About two hours later, I pulled into a gas station that was so brightly lit, it felt like midday instead of eleven p.m. The moment I cut the engine, Jack sat up and looked around as he mumbled, “Where are we?”
“Somewhere on the I-5. Sit tight for a few minutes while I buy some gas, and then I’ll uncuff you so you can use the restroom.”
He rubbed his eyes with a balled up fist. Then he took off the baseball cap and absently fixed his hair while I filled the tank. Even at this hour, there were a lot of people around, since the gas station was right off a busy interstate. I really didn’t know what I’d do if he decided to make a scene or call for help, but he just sat quietly and waited.
When I finished fueling up, I pulled into one of the parking spaces in front of the convenience store and walked around to the passenger door. Then I frowned at Jack and said, “Don’t make me regret this.”
He looked up at me with those soulful green eyes of his and sounded sincere when he told me, “I won’t. I promise.” This guy could get away with murder, that was how sweet and innocent he seemed. When I hesitated, he added, “Besides, where am I going to go? We’re in the middle of fuck-all, and you’ve got my phone, money, and ID.”
He had a point. Even so, I scowled at him as I reached over the door and unlocked the cuffs. He got out of the car and stretched, and then he made a quick move and pretended he was about to dart out into the night.
My reaction time was painfully slow. By the time I responded, he’d already reversed direction, smiled at me, and began to stroll into the shop. I grabbed his elbow and whispered, “Don’t fuck with me, Jack.”
He paused and turned to me, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “What’re you going to do Daddy, spank me?”
He’d started out the evening contrite but had woken up spicy. I really didn’t have the energy to deal with Spicy Jack right now though, so I growled, “There’s plenty of room in the trunk and another six hours of drive time ahead of us. Do you really feel like pressing your luck?”
That was definitely the wrong thing to say, and I instantly regretted it. He straightened his posture and glared at me. “I was just playing,” he said. “You don’t have to be a dick.”
I let go of his arm and muttered, “Look, I’m sorry.” Jesus, was I actually apologizing? “It’s been a long fucking night, and it’s only going to get longer.”
His expression softened, and he dipped his chin. Then he looked up at me through his thick lashes and asked, “You wouldn’t really put me in the trunk, would you?”
“Of course not.” I grinned a little and added, “How would I even get you in there? It’d be like trying to get a cat into a tub of water. You’d probably bite me.”
That brought out his smile. “I’d definitely bite you. Now come on, I need to pee.” With that, he turned and went into the convenience store.
After we used the facilities, I started to pour myself a cup of coffee. “You took all my money,” Jack said, “so how am I supposed to buy something?”
“I’ll give it back later. For now, get anything you want. It’s on me.”
“Anything?”
When I nodded, he used both arms to scoop up every bag of chips from one of the shelves. Then he watched me to see what I’d do. Instead of calling him on being ridiculous, I asked, “Hungry?”
“I’m in survival mode,” he informed me. “I’ve been taken hostage, and who knows if my captor will remember to feed me? You strike me as the kind of man who can’t even keep a goldfish alive.”
“Calling yourself a hostage is kind of dramatic.”
“Well, how would you describe this situation?”
“Keeping an eye on you until I get my watch back.”
“I’m right about the goldfish though, aren’t I?”
“No comment.” I changed the subject with, “Would you like a cup of coffee? I’ll make you one, since your hands are full.”
“Yes please, with obscene amounts of cream and sugar.”
I doctored up his coffee with three times the amount of cream and sugar I’d consider reasonable and asked him, “Is that obscene enough for you?”
“It’ll do.”
On the way to the register, he grabbed a pack of snack cakes—awkwardly, since his arms were totally loaded up with chips. Then he picked up a bag of peanuts in the shell, which I plucked out of his hand. He frowned as he reminded me, “You said I could have anything I wanted.”
I replaced it with a bag of shelled peanuts and said, “You can have these. What are you, a circus elephant? It’s bad enough you’ll be eating in my car. I’m not letting you get shells all over it, too.”
“Fine.”