Read Wanted for Free Online

palm, hoping Jack will get the hint to return the slugs, when a sharp pain hits me in the neck. Clawing at my throat, I reach up to remove whatever’s stabbing me, looking to Jack for help. That’s when I notice that his eyes are practically bugging out of his face, his cheeks turning redder by the second. I try to pry the slugs from his closed fist, but he won’t let go. With his free hand, he clutches at his chest, grabbing his shirt.
    Pushing through the fiery agony in my throat, I frantically pull at his fingers, fighting Jack’s resistance until finally, the slugs drop from his hand into mine. The scorching pain in my neck instantly ceases, but a new scene dances into focus behind my closed eyes.
    I’m sitting in the passenger seat of a car I’ve never been in before outside of a brick building with a sign that says
Robert H. Brock Hardware
. A woman in a calf-length green dress and black hat breezes past me, pushing a wicker stroller with metal rim wheels. She coos quietly to her baby, who smiles in response. I tap my fingers nervously on my knee.
    An alarm sounds and two men with machine guns race out of the store. I watch but don’t scream. Before I know what’s happening, they hop into my car—one guy into the driver’s seat next to me, and the other one in back. “Go, go, go!” the man in back shouts. The car pulls away from the curb jerkily. I squeal, “Hurry, baby!” My stomach twists when I see it’s the same well-dressed guy with the outturned ears from my first vision—Clyde Barrow. I turn my head in rapid succession, looking first at the storefront and then at Clyde. He finally pops the gear into place just in time as the shop owner runs outside shooting at us. I scream, ducking down, hearing bullets ricochet off the car’s exterior. Clyde floors the gas pedal, tires squealing.
    A hard bump against my shoulder makes the scene pop like a pricked soap bubble. I open my eyes, realizing the slugs got knocked out of my hand. I scoop them up and jam them in my pocket. The hailstorm of images flowing through my thoughts are overshadowed by seeing Jack pound on his chest like he’s trying to get his lungs working again. He coughs and shouts, “Hallelujah!” followed by a loud gasp for air. Finding out that Jack is a Bible thumper is just one more stop on the crazy train tonight. He blinks several times, his mouth open.
    â€œWhoa! I felt like I was going to die for a second there.” He stares at the indentations of the slugs embedded on his palm, as if unsure how they got there.
    â€œAre you okay now?” I ask, biting my lip.
    He nods, takes a deep breath. “Yeah. But you got sick at the same time I was.” He eyes me warily. “You sure those slugs aren’t possessed?”
    â€œI’m starting to wonder myself,” I say, hoping he doesn’t press further. Were the evil spirits of Bonnie and Clyde locked up tight in that box, and when I unsealed it, did I unwittingly unleash them into the world like the bubonic plague?
    Too late to turn back now.
    I don’t have a second to respond when a loud commotion brings Jack to his feet. I follow suit, watching as a guy flies down the stairs yelling something unintelligible. A girl darts in front of us, grabbing her purse that’s on the table next to me.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” I ask her. “Is someone hurt?”
    â€œThe cops are here!” she yells, her face white with panic. “Ditch your drugs!”
    Damn it! I knew this would happen! I take a quick check for Clarissa, but don’t see her anywhere. I turn to look at Jack, but he’s standing on the loveseat, pushing open the window. Seconds later, he steps up on the back of the couch and shinnies himself up and out. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the only way out of getting busted is to run.
    â€œJack, wait!” He glances right at me, but keeps