Chapter Ten
Addison
A few hours pass, and I have to say, this is the best road trip I’ve ever been on. Sure, I’m still steadily attempting to get bits and pieces of information from my best friend and Rowan, but it hasn't been terrible sitting beside him.
The truck he stole is just as nice as his other one, with all the bells and whistles. It even has a cute little pink air freshener hanging from the rear-view.
Rowan promised he would return it as soon as he could get someone out to the gas station where we left his truck, and I have to have faith that I’m not sitting beside a total kleptomaniac.
It took a lot of convincing to get me on board with this, but after much apologizing and pleading, I finally settled in, and put on my new sunglasses and hat.
Even as I jam out with my bare feet propped up on the dashboard, I can’t stop replaying what those men said back at the gas station.
The Midwestern branch.
Rowan is the leader. Whatever that means…
I feel like I’m close to piecing it all together, but I'm missing something. Why do these people care about finding me? I didn't really know Rowan before today.
Every time I feel like I’ve got it all figured out, there’s some other variable that doesn't make sense. It’s infuriating and riveting all at the same time.
I open the glove box, grab a candy bar, then close it and peel the wrapper. I bite into nougat and chocolate, moaning at the taste as I start to hum along to the music from my playlist, which is bumping through the speakers.
“You’re going to give yourself a cavity if you keep eating all of that sugar.”
Here I am, relaxing, when all of a sudden, I hear this agitating, grating voice.
“Aw, do you want to play dentist with me, Row Row?” I give him a wide-eyed, innocent look as I poke my bottom lip out.
“Still hate that nickname,” he shakes his head before staring at my lips.
“You have chocolate…” He reaches out, and his thumb brushes along the corner of my mouth before he places it between his lips and licks the chocolate from his finger.
I swear I see something shiny past his lips, but I know that isn’t right…
“You’re a freak,” I mumble, hiding my flushed face behind the bill of my hat.
“Whatever you say, Passenger Princess.” He smirks.
“Fine. Let me drive. You can play Passenger Princess for a few hours.” I suggest.
He frowns. “Not happening.”
I sit up, pulling my feet off the dash. “Come on! Let me drive. Please! I’ll be so careful.”
“And what if something happens?” He asks.
“Like mysterious people following us around? Been there, done that. I want to drive a stolen truck.” I beg.
He deadpans. “As hard as it is for me to say no to you, my answer is still the same.”
“That didn't sound very hard at all.” I narrow my eyes.
“When it comes to your safety, the decision is easy.” He shrugs.
I stare at him for a beat, momentarily struck by his words. It’s easy to say one thing, but with Rowan, I feel like he means it.
Trust is a touchy subject for me. It’s always been difficult for me to understand that some people genuinely have good intentions. After what happened to my dad and how it affected my mom, it gave me a raw dose of reality.
Call me cynical, but it’s hard to watch your mom fall apart and lose the only other person you felt understood you in this vast world. It’s taken years of therapy to get to this point, and I feel like Rowan is unwinding me at the seams.
I can't tell if the change is good or bad. Seeing this playful, bad-boy side of him isn't helping my resolve. I'm a sucker for men who can make me laugh. He’s like the perfect balance of protective and fun.
It’s dangerous to think of him this way, but what can I say? I’m just a girl. A weak one who may have a slight crush on her stalker…
My therapist is going to have a field day with this.
“What are you thinking about?” Rowan asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
I sigh, taking another bite of my candy. “I think the real question is what am I not thinking about.”
He thrums his thumb on the steering wheel, looking like he’s withholding something. “Do you think you’re in a good headspace to talk about this?”
I turn to him, taking in the firm set of his jaw and the dark blue eyes staring back at me. “You’re going to tell me?”
He pops a shoulder before returning to the road. “It depends on whether you think you can handle it.” He sighs, shaking his head. “I was unfair to you earlier. I should have given you more information than I did. I just worried you wouldn't be able to handle it, and you needed a distraction.”
“By giving you head?” I ask in bewilderment.
“It worked, didn't it?” He counters.
My mouth opens before I close it. Sure, it worked. Now it's all I can think about.
“Well?” He pushes. “Do you want to know?”
“Yes.”
He rolls his shoulders before getting that distant look in his eyes. The thunder rolling overhead and the dark clouds outside seem to add to the ambiance as we head into a thunderstorm. “I’m the leader of the Midwestern syndicate, an organization of assassins who take money for hits.”
The silence that blankets us is thick and heavy until I burst into rioting laughter.
“You…” I choke on a giggle. “You expect me to believe that? Come on!”
His face remains hard and impassive. “I’m being serious, Addison.”
“Sure you are,” I smile. “And I'm a spy. I would believe you're in the Mafia before I believe this shit.”
He runs a hand across his mouth before shrugging. “Fine. I tried to tell you.”
“You think you're so funny.” I muse. “Assassins! That’s so far-fetched. You couldn't come up with something better?”
Lightning strikes in the distance as rain pelts the windshield. Rowan flicks on the wipers, but the downpour is so heavy that it barely helps.
“I can't see a fucking thing,” He grumbles as a piercing weather alert blares from my phone. I dig it out of my pocket before cursing at the lost signal.
“Just great! No signal either.” I skim the weather alert, my face falling. “They’re shutting down the roads.”
Rowan’s eyes remain focused on the yellow lines. I can’t even see past the storm. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
A sign passes, but I can't make out the words on it. It isn't a storefront that blurs by that I realize we’re in some desolate town out in the middle of nowhere.
A flash of blue lights has my heart dropping as Rowan rolls to a stop directly behind a string of cop cars that are redirecting traffic.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I curse.
Rowan reaches across the console, placing a comforting hand on my forearm. “It’s okay. We’re fine—”
“We’re not fine!” I stress, motioning to the vehicle's interior. “This is stolen, Rowan!”
“They don’t know that,” he reassures gently. “Just calm down. Deep breaths. I’ve got you.”
I place my hand over his, nodding as he intertwines our fingers. I’m too nervous to think of how tightly he’s holding onto me as we inch forward in traffic. It’s all I have to soothe me as a police officer dressed in a dark rain poncho and umbrella knocks on the window.
Rowan rolls it down with a smile. “Officer.”
“Hell of a storm, huh? Where are the two of you headed?” He shouts over the patterning of rain against the windshield.
“Columbus to visit my parents,” Rowan answers easily.
The officer laughs. “Not in this weather, you aren't. We’re closing the roads until noon tomorrow. There’s an inn just up ahead, you kids can stop off at for the night.”
“Thank you,” Rowan nods.
The officer’s eyes trail to me. “Are you okay, ma’am? You don't look too good…”
Rowan squeezes my hand, and I snap out of it before smiling despite my pounding heart. “I’m fine. Bad weather and my motion sickness don't mix well.”
“I hear that,” the officer chuckles before slapping a hand on the truck. “Get your girlfriend indoors. Roads should be open tomorrow after lunch.”
Rowan rolls up the window, and I sink down in my seat as he pulls around the cop cars. I cover my face with a hand, groaning.
“You did amazing,” my chauffeur praises.
“Please don't make me do that ever again,” I plead. “I thought that was it for us.”
His thumb brushes over my knuckles in an achingly sweet gesture. “I’ve got you. I promised I wouldn't let anything happen, and I meant it.”
That’s what I'm afraid of…
I give him a weak smile, and something passes behind his eyes before he lets me go and thumps his fingers on the wheel.
“There’s an inn,” he reiterates the officer's words.
“Yup,” I add, nerves circling my gut at the aspect of us sharing a room. I know we won't, but that doesn't stop my brain from running wild with the possibility.
He drives a few feet, inching through the town until a bright white sign that reads ‘Cozy Corner Inn’ becomes visible through the storm.
He pulls into the empty parking lot, and I take in the dated, multi-story house.
The wooden frame looks like a relic as it sags with the weight of decades of wear and tear.
The once-white paint job is dulled, and there are pronounced chips and cracks in the wood.
Moss has overgrown the foundation stones, and the front porch looks as if it’s leaning too far to the left.
“I swear to god, if this place is haunted, I’m leaving you as an offering.” I threaten my travel companion.
Rowan gives me a withering look. “You believe in ghosts, but you can't believe I'm an assassin?”
“I believe what’s real.” I roll my eyes.
The rain comes down in sheets across the windshield as the dark clouds overhead look unending and consuming.
“Want to make a run for it?” Rowan asks.
“Yup,” I agree. “We’re going to get soaked regardless.”
“On the count of three,” he reaches for the door’s handle. “One, two, three!”
We both open our doors, and the weather assaults us instantly. Water drenches my hair, plastering it to my temples as my shoes crunch across the gravel. My clothes stick to me, and I can hardly make out the steps as I take them quickly to get to the cover of the porch.
Rowan is right beside me, and he holds my elbow as he helps me up until we're under the metal roof.
Before I realize it, we’re both smiling at each other. We look like drenched cats as we drip water onto the aged wood beneath us, but the moment feels too light.
Rowan looks at the truck, cursing as he places his hands on his hips. “I have a duffel bag I need to empty out, and I still need to grab our clothes.”
I wring the water out of my hair. “Later. Let’s get checked in first.”
He opens the door for me, and a little bell chimes as I step into a foyer. The floor creaks as I walk, and I take in the paintings and mirrors that line the walls. The air is stale, but it’s not as bad as Loxley’s apartment.
“Oh, hello there!” A woman with dark ringlets waves at me from behind a tall desk. She folds her beige cardigan over her chest before typing on the desktop computer. “I wasn't expecting anyone with the storm. Are you looking for a room?”
Rowan walks ahead, and I trail after him as he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket.
His white shirt is soaked, and clings to miles of toned muscles.
I can’t see the tattoos beneath it, but I can make out the dark ink that stretches across his shoulders.
There’s something else there, kind of like a deep groove beneath his shoulder blade, but as he moves and his shirt shifts, it disappears, and I’m left staring at toned muscles.
Down, girl. No touching.
Never mind that I gave him a blow job just a few short hours ago. It’s something that shouldn't happen again. No matter how badly I want it to.
“Yes,” Rowan answers. “Preferably two.” He turns as if looking for confirmation from me.
“Uh, yes. Two rooms.” I say.
The hostess’s lips draw back in a wince as a deeply apologetic expression crosses her features. “I wasn’t expecting anyone because most of my rooms are going through a remodel, but I'm sure I can grab a pull-out sofa—”
“That’s fine,” Rowan shakes his head. “We’ll manage.” He hands her his card and ID while I look around the front room. The dim, yellow lights overhead flicker as thunder rumbles louder and lightning cracks across the tall windows.
“Just the one night, and here are your keys,” the hostess says, smiling as she hands everything back to him. “Breakfast is served at seven, and if there are any updates on the road conditions, I’ll call the landline in your room. Have a good afternoon.”
“Thank you!” I call out as I follow Rowan to a grand staircase.
He takes us up to the second floor, and I see firsthand how we’re intruding on this poor woman’s renovations.
There are clear tarps along the floor that crinkle loudly beneath our shoes, and it smells like fresh paint as we pass a few open doors.
Some of the rooms look cleared out, while the others are cluttered and piled high with beds and end tables.
Rowan halts at the last door before sliding the key into the lock and opening it with a loud groan. We both stop and stare at the single queen-sized bed.
Fuck me.
“I’ll take the floor,” he decides before stepping past the threshold.
“I would normally disagree and offer the bed to whoever paid for the room, but I’m pretty sure I saw a roach.
” I shiver unpleasantly before walking into the small, standard bathroom.
The shower looks big enough for one person, or half of Rowan, if I’m being honest. He’s definitely too tall for the showerhead.
My travel companion stomps by, and I turn just as he opens the door.
“I’m going to grab our bags,” he says on the way out.
I blow out a breath, mentally psyching myself up to pretend there’s no physical chemistry between us all night. Already, it sounds utterly exhausting.
I wander around the room like a ghost, brushing my fingers over things I probably shouldn't be touching, before my attention is drawn to the storm raging outside the square window.
My sight snags on Rowan’s figure as he stands in the bed of the truck. He has the lid of the metal toolbox open, and I watch as he unpacks something into it.
“What is he doing?” I ask myself before grabbing the curtain and pulling it closed. “Not my circus.”
I don't need to know any more about him than I already do. Once this trip is over, I’ll create some distance to get my mind right again. I still have to figure out what I’m going to do in Columbus when I get there.
I pull out my phone before gritting my teeth and tossing it on the bed. “Can’t do a job search with no signal.”
I fall onto the bed, landing on my back as my arms stretch out over the duvet. “Please let this go smoothly.”