Leaving Las Vegas (Entangled Ignite) by Aleah Barley

diner, for goodness’ sake! I’m not Thelma. Or Louise!”
    “They went to the Grand Canyon, too.”
    “Yeah, and look how that ended.” Her head was throbbing. “We’re going to die!”
    “Take a deep breath,” Luke ordered. “Focus on the here and now. Tell me more about your family—your parents, what are they like?”
    She got what he was trying to do. Distract her from the dire situation racing after them. It was gesture she could appreciate.
    Luke had already hit the gas. They whipped past the SUV, the driver staring stupidly at them. The bigger vehicle didn’t handle nearly as well as the Vanquish. It would take the bad guys a few moments to catch up. A few moments. That wasn’t long.
    “Dead.” Glory’s hands twisted nervously. She tugged at the edge of her shirt. “My parents both died. Cara May says—”
    “Cara May sure has a lot to say, for someone who works at the general store.”
    “She’s the town gossip. Always knows what’s up.” Glory twisted in her seat to get a better view. There was a flash of black metal behind them. The SUV? Or some rancher’s truck? Either way, things were getting a little too close for comfort.
    She cleared her throat and continued. “After my mother died, Cara May brought casserole by the house twice a week. For six years. All the women in town had a rotation, but Cara May always brought dessert, too. Homemade cookies or pudding cups from the store.”
    “Sounds nice,” Luke said, flashing a quick glance in the rearview mirror and stepping on the gas. “Tell me more.”
    So she did. As Luke sent the Vanquish right and left, went up streets and back down, she complained about the diner, long hours, low profits, always racing around. But letting him know she liked being her own boss. Working in her own place with people she knew. Gossiping with old friends and serving milkshakes to schoolchildren.
    “So, I was making a gingerbread castle the other day,” she said, “and this kid—”
    “A gingerbread castle?” Luke said. “A house isn’t good enough?”
    “A house is fine and dandy if you’re showing off for Christmas.” She licked her lips. “If you want to feed a congregation then you’re going to need something a little more architecturally significant. I always make something for the Autumn Fest. It had peppermint windows and frosting trim. Justin said it was structurally unsound.”
    “Justin?”
    “My breakfast cook. Anyway, he thought the Peeps weren’t strong enough to take the weight of a load-bearing wall, but Mrs. Marsters—she took over her husband’s construction company after he died—she showed me how to do crossbeams. The thing ended up weighing a million pounds.” She smiled, wide. “Tasted like cardboard, but there wasn’t a crumb left. Everyone had a piece.”
    For a moment, he stopped his intense focus on the road and the rearview mirror and looked at her. “You really love them, don’t you? All those people in town.”
    “I don’t— Yes. Of course I do. They’re amazing, but sometimes I wish they’d just leave me alone. Living in the same town where I grew up, stuck in a loop talking to the same 753 people. It’s not exactly what I dreamed about as a kid.”
    “What did you dream about doing when you were a kid?” Luke said.
    Glory realized his tone had changed. Grown softer. And he wasn’t looking behind them anymore.
    “I wanted to be Indiana Jones,” she stated.
    Luke turned in his seat to look at her straight on. “You wanted to raid tombs?”
    “Fantastic adventures and good, honest truths. No, I wanted to travel the world, having adventures and making a difference.” Glory beamed. “I’ve taken every history class over at the junior college in Miller’s Crossing. Kings of England. The Civil War. All of it, I just wish there was more.”
    “Why didn’t you go on? I’ve never heard of the University of West Virginia, but something like that must exist—”
    “We have plenty of colleges,