Chapter 7
SEVEN
BECCA
I hold tight to Butch’s hand as we race through the trees, breathing a little easier with each step we take away from the safe house.
The only time I felt okay there was when he showed up, but the second he left, I started to feel restless.
Frustrated. Owen and Luca don’t seem like bad guys, but I can’t talk to them the way I can Butch.
I also don’t trust them like I trust him.
When we reach his truck, he doesn’t usher me around to the passenger side, Butch takes me straight to the still open driver’s door.
He must have turned off the interior light function, because everything is pitch black as he lifts me up and practically tosses me across the console.
I land with my butt in the seat, my back against the door, and my feet across his thigh as he starts the engine, taking off slower than I expect as he props his door open with one foot.
“Shouldn’t we drive faster than this?” I try to adjust my position, but Butch’s hand latches onto my thigh, his palm warm and wide where it grips just above my knee.
“Not until we’re out of earshot.” His hand leaves my leg for just a second as he grips the wheel. “If those pricks are worth their paycheck, they’ll be listening for out of place sounds. And an engine revving, or car door slamming, generally counts as out of place.”
We reach the end of the block, and he gently tugs his door into place, steering with his knee. The hand that never leaves my leg squeezes just a little as we turn away from the safe house.
“Where are we going?” Over the years, I’ve learned to hold back my questions. Most people find them annoying at best, invasive at worst.
Not Butch. At least not the Butch from ten years ago.
I know I’m being stupid by assuming he’s the same as he was a decade ago—especially since I have changed—but it’s hard not to cling to the little bit of time I knew him. It was such a groundbreaking point in my life, and thinking I’ll never have that again is painful.
“Tonight we’re going to a place I don’t think anyone knows about.
Unfortunately, it’s a little out of the way, but it will give us time to figure out what we’re doing next.
” Butch directs his truck onto the highway, aiming west. “I can also switch out our vehicle, because we can’t drive this anymore. ”
I love how fast his brain works. The way he can catalog all the variables and prepare for each eventuality. “Sounds good.”
I knew finding Butch was the right choice, but the way he’s rapidly coming up with a plan—and including me in the process—already has me breathing easier. Feeling safer. More secure. More in control.
That doesn’t mean I’m not still a little mad at him. “Why did you give me that phone if you weren’t going to answer my messages?”
The second I decided to leave the safe house, I texted him at the number he put in the contacts. He didn’t even read it. I wanted to wait—give him time to reply—but Owen and Luca were distracted by a conversation with Pierce, and I figured it was my best shot to slip away unnoticed.
Was I successful? Who the heck knows. I’m sure they’ll notice I’m gone at some point, but the longer that takes, the better off we’ll be.
“I had to shut my phone off because Alaskan Security had the number, and I didn’t want to risk them being able to find us.” Butch’s thumb strokes across the inside of my thigh. “I was coming to get you when I saw you climbing out the window.”
Once again, Butch and I were on the same wavelength, and it makes me smile. “They’re going to be really pissed when they discover I’m gone.”
“I’m not sure pissed will be all they’ll be.” Butch’s dark eyes slide my way. “I bet they’re confused as hell. I don’t think they have a clue what you’re capable of.”
I’m not sure I do either. If you’d asked me six months ago if I ever expected to be climbing out of windows, cyberstalking criminals, and manipulating abductors, I would have said absolutely not.
I was happy working my boring remote job as a software engineer for a tech company.
The money was great. I didn’t have to interact with people who likely wouldn’t get me anyway.
And I enjoyed the challenge of the work.
But was I really happy? Now that I sort of made a friend in Audrey and have Butch’s big hand on my leg, maybe I can admit it might have been a little isolating.
A little lonely.
“Did they feed you?” Butch glances my way, looking me over like he’ll be able to tell if my stomach is empty or not. “We have to stop and get some food anyway. There’s not much at the place we’re going.”
“How long are we going to stay there?” I understand it’s important for us to put some distance between ourselves and Memphis right now, but that’s also probably putting distance between myself and my sister. Or at least the men responsible for her abduction.
“Not long. Just enough time to figure out what we should do next.” His hand squeezes my thigh again. “And to give you a minute to breathe.”
I’m a little surprised Butch seems to have noticed that I might be a tiny bit overwhelmed.
A lot has been happening, and trying to process all of it has had my brain in overdrive for weeks.
Then I was abducted, held at gunpoint, and suffering from PMS. Faced a whole new trifecta of misery I’ve never experienced.
And would love to not experience again.
But honestly, it wasn’t the worst thing that’s happened. It was just a lot. Taking a night to eat properly, and possibly get a little sleep, will hopefully get my brain a break.
“Sounds good to me.” I rest my head against the seat, studying Butch’s profile as he drives. He’s so freaking attractive, and makes it hard for me to believe he’s unattached. I know he said he’s not married, but that doesn’t mean there’s not someone in his life. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
He angles a brow, eyes barely coming my way. “We covered this already. Decided no one could stand me long enough to have a relationship with me, remember?”
“I can stand you.” Should I have admitted that? Probably not now that I’m thinking about it. But I wanted him to know.
Just in case.
Butch glances my way again. “What about you? Is there a man out there who’s going to try to kick my ass because I stole you away from him?”
I snort, because it’s a little funny to think about. “No.”
“I’m not sure that’s entirely true.” Butch’s expression hardens. “Owen seemed pretty interested in getting to know you better.”
I wrinkle my nose at the thought of Owen being close to me the way Butch is now. “Gross.”
“You weren’t even a little interested in him?” Butch sounds skeptical.
In theory, I can understand why. Owen is probably what most women would call attractive.
He’s got muscles and broad shoulders and is in good enough shape to sprint with me over his shoulder.
He’s also nice, I guess. But not once did I feel that weird tingle between my legs that I get when I look at Butch.
The same tingle that’s making me want to squirm in my seat right now. The worst part is, I don’t even really know what to do about it. Logistically, I understand what most people do about it. That just never worked for me.
I’ve spent a surprising amount of money attempting to find something that might make me feel the way everyone else does.
I thought if I researched and tested enough, I could narrow it down to the right kind of vibration, or find some sort of pornography that would bring that tingle back and build it into sensations I’ve only read about.
But I just ended up embarrassed and frustrated. Disappointed to find yet another way I’m different from everyone else.
I shake my head. “Not even a little.”
The hard line of Butch’s mouth softens into what counts as a smile for him. “Good.”
I glance up and see the welcome sign for Arkansas as we cross the river. I feel both better and worse about being in a different state. Better because maybe it will make it more difficult for someone to find us, but worse because I might be a whole state away from my sister now.
“I can hear you thinking, B.” Butch’s hand gently rubs against my body.
“And I know it’s gonna be hard, but I want you to take a break from it.
Just for a minute.” His voice is deep and rough, but so soothing.
“Let’s pick up some groceries and get where we're going. See if we can get a little sleep. And then, when you’re feeling a little less like shit, we can sit down and figure out how to get your sister. ”
I consider his suggestion.
Would it be so bad if I spent just one night not obsessing over how I’m going to get Amanda back? If I gave myself a tiny bit of a reprieve from the worry and regret and guilt I might have inadvertently allowed to consume me?
I don’t actually know. I’m not great at knowing what is and isn’t bad.
We continue down the highway for another hour before Butch pulls off and into the parking lot of a grocery store. The area around us is pretty populated, which confuses me. “I thought you said we were going somewhere remote.”
“We are.” He climbs out of the truck and reaches a hand out to me as I scoot over the console. “This is the last decent place to shop before we get to the cabin.”
He keeps his hand around mine as we cross the lot and go into the store. When he releases me to retrieve a cart, I curl my fingers inward, assessing the strange feeling of loss I’m experiencing.
But before I can come to any conclusions, Butch is passing me the cart, one hand resting on my back as I push it into the shop.
We move quickly through the aisles as Butch drops in the essentials. Milk. Bread. Eggs. Cheese. Butter. Lunch meat. Coffee. Bottled water.
He suddenly stops, looking over the cart before training his eyes on me. “You haven’t added anything.”
“You said we’re not staying long.” I don’t see any reason to buy a bunch of food we’ll either have to leave behind or drag with us.
“True, but I know you haven’t been eating well.” Butch gives me a stern look. “So pick something and put it in the damn cart.”
I look around the aisle we happen to be stopped in, scanning the rows of chips. I grab the closest bag and add the yellow package to our collection.
Butch lifts a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Is that your way of telling me we’re not making out tonight?”
My body locks up for a second, frozen in some weird combination of excitement and fear. “Is that an option?”
Butch stares at me for a second, and I start to wonder what I’ve said wrong now. Maybe I should at least try to filter what I think before it comes out of my mouth around him. I didn’t think I had to, but a lot can change in ten years.
Butch steps toward me, eating up all the space between us before he says, “Your options are unlimited, B.”
My lack of romantic experience normally doesn’t bother me. Actually, it was irrelevant up until this moment. But now—with six feet of very tingle-inducing male standing right in front of me, I wish I knew a little more. “What about your options?”
Butch reaches up, pushing one side of my hair away from my face before tucking it behind my ear. His fingers tracing the curve of my neck, making me shiver, before his touch falls away. “My options are up to you.”
I think I get what he’s saying, but it’s not completely clear. And I like clarity. I like understanding what’s being conveyed and the motivations behind it. “So if I want to make out, we can?”
I rub my lips together, imagining what it would feel like if Butch really kissed me.
I don’t know if I’d count the quick press of his lips against mine before he left the safe house as an actual kiss.
I don’t have anything to compare it to, but I would hope a kiss is way more than that two second experience.
Butch gives me a smirk that winds up the eagerness already tightening my insides. “I guess that depends on whether or not you plan on eating a bag of Funions.”
Holding his eyes, because I can’t seem to look away, I grab the bag and toss it in the general direction of the shelf.
Butch chuckles. “You are something special, you know that?” He inches even closer, the front of his body brushing mine. “I was worried you might not be the same Becca I remember.” His expression turns thoughtful. “But I think you might be even better.”
I know exactly what he means. Seeing Butch in the Chinese restaurant was a shock, but excitement rushed right on its heels. Eagerness to feel the way I did the last time he was around.
Tempered by fear that he wasn’t at all like I remembered. Or that even if he was, I wouldn’t get that tingle again.
Butch tips his head toward the racks of snack foods. “Why don’t you pick a make-out friendly bag of chips so we can get the hell out of here.”
I don’t know what make-out friendly chips are, but apparently it’s not Funions. I try to choose the opposite of the heavily flavored, super crispy rings, and after grabbing a bland bag of tortilla chips and chucking it in the basket, I grip the push bar. “Ready to go?”
I know I was worried I wouldn’t be able to take a night to recalibrate my brain, but suddenly I’m thinking it isn’t going to be that difficult after all. Not if I get to spend it discovering what all the fuss is regarding physical relations.
Hopefully, it’s all it’s cracked up to be. Because right now, I feel achy and hot and like I’ve got an itch that I don’t know how to scratch.
Hopefully Butch does, or it’s going to be a very anti-climactic evening.