Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Armando
After Hannah brings the flowers by the hotel and leaves her card, I pull in at a grocery store. I need a razor, toothbrush, and some other odds and ends. Plus, she has no food at her place.
“What are we doing?” Hannah asks.
“Getting groceries.” I turn off the van and climb out, looking around to make sure no one’s watching us. I haven’t seen anything suspicious today, but I’d be stupid to get complacent. “Let’s go.”
She hops down and comes around.
“Stay close. Follow directions. Show me I can trust you.”
She lets out a little huff of indignation. If she was going to try something, she would’ve done it a long time ago. I know that. But I don’t trust anything anymore.
“Get a cart.”
She shoots me a withering look. “Are you going to tie me to it, too?”
My dick twitches at the thought. “Don’t tempt me, Curls.”
“Oh, is it Curls now? I thought I was Flowers.”
I ignore her, mostly because I’m way over my daily quotient on words.
My throat is literally scratchy from talking so much today.
Hooking my fingers around the front of the cart, I lead her toward the toiletries aisle.
I find a toothbrush and toothpaste and a bag of razors.
When I toss the box of condoms in the cart, she takes notice.
“You’re just assuming we are going to have sex again? What if I want to go back to my no sex rule?”
“Okay.”
“Why do you say okay like you don’t believe me?”
I stop the cart and turn to face her. She’s so damn beautiful, even when she’s snippy. “Take it easy, Flowers. I’m gonna respect your decision on whatever you want in that regard.”
That doesn’t calm her down. In fact, she gives the cart a push, forcing me to move out of the way or get hit. I walk beside the cart as she marches down the aisle. “So, what are the condoms for? Are you going back to your strip club? Hmm? Going to pick up some girls there?”
Aw, fuck. I swear my face is breaking because I sense a smile coming on. Is she jealous? She’s fucking adorable when she’s jealous.
I stifle the smile and keep my face blank. “No. Not going back to the strip club, Flowers. They’re in case you do decide you want to continue having sex with me.”
She stops the cart and looks at me, considering. Her lips are in a pout, but her posture has softened. “I’ll think about it.”
I shrug. “Okay.”
A blush spreads across her cheeks, and she starts pushing the cart again at a determined speed. “What else are you getting?”
“Food.”
“I need kitty litter,” she mutters.
“Let’s get some.” We head to the pet aisle. She picks out the kitty litter. I throw in some Kitten Chow, and catnip treats and one of those poles with feathers attached to the end for the kitten to play with.
“I didn’t think you liked cats.” Hannah eyes me from under a swath of curls.
For some reason, it hurts that she noticed. That I can’t hide my lack of humanity. “I don’t,” I say gruffly.
It’s not true. I don’t like or dislike cats.
I don’t give a shit about them. But I know it’s fucked up that I can look a kitten in the face right now and feel nothing.
There’s definitely something wrong with me.
All mammals are wired to think baby animals are cute.
I learned that in middle school science class.
I stalk through the store. I picked up a few things at the grocery store before I moved into the apartment Marco rented for me, but I was in culture shock then.
Just being in the grocery store had been an out of body experience—like most everything this past week.
Now, I’m determined to find something I like or want.
I drag Hannah through every aisle filling the cart with all kinds of food.
Steak. Ice cream. Potato chips. Fresh fruit and vegetables. Oreo cookies.
“You’d better be paying for all this because I’m not,” Hannah mutters when the cart gets full.
“Yeah, I got it.”
After a few moments, she says, “I’m sorry—that was bitchy.”
Seriously. This girl. Who does that? Who apologizes for an offhanded dig?
“Nah, you earned it.”
“Well, I don’t like the way it feels.”
She doesn’t like the way it feels. Hannah Munn is so pure, it makes my head spin. She’s not innocent or naive. Not a mouse. She’s just… kind. Good. Honest.
And she feels bad now because bitchiness is not her natural state. Grace could pull a cunt all day long and would never apologize for it. Hannah didn’t even come close to offending me, and she can’t let it ride.
“It was uncalled for. You helped me with money at the bank and with the van.” Her voice breaks a little.
Aw, shit, is she crumpling? Over this?
“Come here, Flowers.” I pull her against my chest and wrap my arms around her. “It’s all right. It’s just money. You gotta get over your fear of it.”
“I’m not afraid of money,” she says, sounding even more upset. She pushes out of my embrace, and I let her go.
“You might not be afraid, but it’s your sore spot, for sure. You get more upset about money than you do about anything. Even what happened yesterday.”
“Well, it’s a big deal,” she snaps.
“It’s not. You’ve made it a big deal. It’s just money.”
“Have you ever not had enough?” she demands.
My memory flashes back to my teen years.
My first job for Don G., providing security at Lollipops at age sixteen.
Flexing my muscles and pretending to play hero to a bunch of naked girls.
I got a taste for cash. Seeing the guys flash it around, going home with a wad of it in my pocket.
Buying groceries and gas for my mom. Telling her to quit her second job.
“I always wanted more,” I admit. “That’s how I got into the organization. ”
Her eyes widen, and she goes quiet, chewing on that. “Are you ever sorry?”
I let out a snort. Am I? I’m not even allowed to think it. I can’t think it because if I do, there’s no reason to go on living.
Once you’re in, you don’t get out, except in a body bag.
“Officially, no.”
“Unofficially?” she asks softly.
“I have some regrets,” I admit. “But there’s no exit ticket. I’m in it for life now.” I shrug. “I gotta make it work.”
She blinks those curled lashes at me, seeing so much more than I want to show.
I gotta change the topic. “Come on, Flowers. Groceries are on me, so finish filling up this cart. I don’t know what you like.”
“Lobster and caviar, it is.” She tosses her hair and swishes her hips as she pushes the cart down the aisle.
That twitchy feeling returns around my mouth.
A smile. Hannah makes me want to smile.
“If my princess wants lobster, then lobster it is,” I say.
She pauses, nibbles her bottom lip, and then reaches for a box of plug-in air fresheners. “I’d prefer these over lobster. Help with the kitty smell. They’re just super expensive for some oil you plug into the wall. But?—”
I snatch them from her hand, not even looking at the price. “You’re a cheap date.”
She smiles again—a smile I could look at all day every day—and continues toward the check out.
We walk outside, and the thump of bass assaults us from a Chevy Impala low-rider. I whirl to face Hannah, catching the cart to stop it and her.
“What?” Her eyes widen. She’s smart enough to recognize my urgency and scans the street, following the vehicle with her gaze. “You know them?”
I don’t turn, even though I want to. I fucking hate having my back to danger. “I don’t know,” I mutter. The pounding music fades.
“It’s gone,” Hannah tells me.
I turn back to the van and tug the cart, resuming like nothing happened.
Fuck.
That could’ve been the Hermanos. They could’ve had assault weapons and fired from the car. Hannah would’ve been killed.
I’m still ice-cold and emotionless when I picture myself getting gunned down, but the thought of Hannah dying because of me brings bile to my mouth.
I shouldn’t be hiding out with her. It would be better to expose myself to danger than to use her as my shield.
I need to get out of her life.
Fucking soon.
Ushering her to the passenger side of the van, I open the door and assist her inside, feeling as if eyes are still on me.
Watching my every move. I notice that Hannah is examining my face, obviously picking up on my discomfort.
Not saying anything to explain, I close her door and walk around the van pissed that I let my guard down.
My eyes dart from side to side, scanning the parking lot, and finally acting like the man I was trained to be.
No more playing house. Our fucking lives are on the line.