Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
DEMITRI
“I’m going to work with you tonight.”
Mia looks up from the table where she’s going through her bag. “What? No. It’s not safe.”
“Fuck that. I’m going with you. If it’s not safe for me, it’s not safe for you. So you’re either calling in or I’m going with you.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Her anger takes me by surprise, but it really shouldn’t. She stares at me, waiting for an answer.
“I’m only trying?—”
“To control me? To tell me what to do? To take charge? Fuck you. How about that? You do not control me. No one will ever fucking control me again, do you understand? I am going to work and your ass is staying in this fucking house.”
“So I can’t tell you what to do, but you can tell me what to do? How’s that fair?” I challenge.
She deflates in front of me, all the fight leaving her body. Her mouth snaps closed, the argument she was getting ready to make gone. I walk as close to her as I feel like I safely can before I speak again.
“I don’t want to fight with you. But I want you safe, same as you want me. Now that I know Andrey is out there looking for me, the thought of you being out of my sight makes my skin crawl. I don’t want to control you. I don’t even want to be in charge. But the thought that there is even a possibility that you could end up like Mika fills me with a dread I can’t fully express.”
“And I don’t want you to leave the house for the same reason. If something happened to you, would I even know? Or would you just disappear and I’d never know? If you’re home, I know where you are. I would know if someone was trying to get in. I would know if they took you. I would know.”
“Can we compromise?” I ask in a last-ditch effort.
“How?” The look on her face is priceless. The lack of trust would hurt if it were anyone else.
“What if I stay in the office all night? I’ll do some work, you do your thing, no one will see me, and I’ll know you’re safe, you’ll know I’m safe. Everyone is happy, right?”
She squints at me, pursing her lips. “I don’t hate it,” she finally replies.
“Please?”
She lets out the sigh of someone weary. “Fine. I still don’t like it, but if you’ll stay in the office, we can compromise.”
I smile, feeling like I’ve just won something, when she sticks her finger up and narrows her eyes at me.
“You will not turn the microphones on and listen to me all night. You will not get mad or jealous because you think I’m flirting with someone. You will accept that this is my job and what I do during my work hours is separate from whatever this is.”
I clench my jaw to keep from laughing at her. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay then. And I’ll send Brodie in every once in a while to check on you.”
“Brodie? You sure about that?”
“What’s wrong with Brodie?”
“Nothing. But if no one is supposed to know I’m there, Brodie would be a someone, right?”
“He doesn’t count. I know too many of his secrets. Come on then, let’s go.”
She stands from the table and slings her bag over her shoulder, whatever’s inside it clunking around. I swear she actually does have a kitchen sink in there. I asked her once what she carts around in the bag and she completely shut down on me. But it’s never very far from where she is.
She locks the door as we exit the house and starts walking toward her car.
“Where are you going?” I ask, looking between her and my truck.
“I’m driving. You’re in hiding, remember? People aren’t supposed to see you with me or I’ll be in danger?” She smiles sweetly and rapidly blinks her eyes.
“Smartass. Fine. You drive.”
I match her sweet smile with my own, and she scowls. I know she’s trying to make everything uncomfortable so I’ll give up and stay home. But as stubborn as she is, I can match it.
She grumbles while getting in her car, and I let my smile spread before sobering up and getting in beside her. Can’t let her know how much I’m actually enjoying this. When she gets feisty, I get turned on. And it has nothing to do with sex. The woman has no idea how she makes my life light up when she’s being the real her. And the best part? I don’t even think she realizes how much her mask has slipped with me over the years. The Mia I met four years ago never would have let me see her angry. Or worried. She would lash out proactively, protecting herself first and foremost. Remember those drips and scraps? This is me living it up with them.
“Do you need anything before you’re shut in for the night?” Mia asks when we get to her office.
“You going to lock the door?” I joke, but the look on her face tells me she’s thinking about it. “Mia. Don’t even.”
She gives me an evil grin and shrugs. “It would have kept you where I want you.”
“Go to work. Make the big bucks. And flirt just enough for the tips, but not so much that I have to watch the men walk away with rods in their pants, okay?”
“We’ll see. I mean, I guess I’ll try. But momma’s got bills to pay.”
She turns and flounces to the door. Fucking flounces, her ass swaying just so. This woman. Just as she walks through the door, she turns back, her face suddenly serious. Doubt—and is that fear?—etched on her face. “My friends are coming in tonight. It’s our weekly meeting. I would really appreciate it if you tried not to listen to our conversation. What we talk about? It’s private. For all of us.”
“Mia, I’ll never purposely pry into your secrets. You have my word.”
She stares at me, chewing on her bottom lip, before nodding and walking away, pulling the door shut behind her. I stare at the closed door, trying to read her thoughts through it. I know the friends she’s talking about. A group of women who call themselves ‘Brett’s Girls’ that came together over their history of trauma with the man. I hate that name. Survivors. That should be their name.
Not going to lie, the urge to call Aunt Linda and ask her for the history on all of them is there, but much like I don’t want anyone looking into my past and asking questions, I won’t do that to these women. I know enough to know the basics, and that’s already enough to make me want to throw up.
I look around the office, trying to take my mind off of Mia’s past, noticing the camera angles on the wall of monitors. One behind the bar facing out to the room, one facing the front door, one for the back door, and one focusing on the area Mia usually holds as hers. There’s also one in the kitchen and the hallway with the bathrooms. She’s got the whole place covered, which makes me feel a little better about things here.
I turn to the desk and pull my laptop from the bag I brought with me. I boot her up and get to work. Even if I can’t be in the garage, it doesn’t mean I can’t do something to stay productive. After a few minutes of quietly working, I pick up my phone and make a call.
“John?” the man answers.
“Hey, Sarge. What’s going on?”
“Nothing, man. You’re the one who called me. What’s going on with you?”
“I won’t be able to make it up there next week. Might need to make arrangements for one of my guys to do the pickup.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Why do you think something’s wrong?”
“Because you don’t just come up here to pick up parts. You come up here to bullshit with me and the other guys. If you can’t do that, something’s happened. What?”
“Sometimes I really hate that you know shit the way you do.”
He laughs, and I have a feeling this isn’t the first time he’s heard this. “Doesn’t change the fact you’re facing something.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not really supposed to talk about it. So, just trying to stay out of sight for a little while.”
“Family?”
I never told Sarge my real name, but the man knows everything. He can get a grown man to spill his guts with just a look. And obviously a phone call.
“Yeah. Can we leave it at that?”
“How bad?”
“I don’t know, man. Could be really bad. Right now, trying to mitigate that.”
“Your girl safe?”
“And stubborn.”
“Good. Someone has to keep an eye on you.”
I lower my voice, not wanting anyone to hear me. “What if keeping an eye on me puts her in danger? How do I live with that if something happens to her?”
“You can’t live your life like that. Unless you know there’s a credible threat, one that you need to call the authorities in on, all you can do is stay aware of your surroundings and keep those close to you safe.”
The way he speaks with authority almost makes me believe it’s really that simple. But I come from a world where nothing is that easy.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I know you don’t believe me, and trust me, I’ve seen some shit, but it’s all we have. And you call me if you need help, alright? I can make a few calls to some friends of mine.”
If anyone else had told me this, I wouldn’t put any faith in it, but Sarge does know people. I happen to know one of them pretty well, he helped me get through everything with the family last time. He’s a former FBI guy who found me when he was undercover. He blew his cover when things went to shit, just to protect me. He’s the reason Daniel and his crew tolerate me now. Before that, I’m pretty sure they were ready to take me out for the good of mankind.
“Thanks. I’ll remember that. But I’m still sending one of the guys to you for the parts.”
He laughs. It’s rough, but you can feel the heart the man has for those he deems worthy. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
We disconnect the call and I finish a few other things, including the work schedule for the garage to cover my absence. As I’m sending all that out, I happen to look up at the camera and see that Mia’s friends have arrived. It’s only then that I realize it’s already after eight. They are all crowded around the end of the bar. Their unofficial seats, honestly. I’ve never seen them sit anywhere else. It allows Mia to keep working, and for them to have a conversation.
I try not to pay too much attention to what’s happening, but one of her friends, the one who looks like she’s a porcelain doll, looks right at the camera and mouths ‘not okay.’ Then I pay all the attention.