Chapter 13 Willow
WILLOW
A day later, after the brothers have paid a little visit to Judge Bailey and put the fear of god into him—or rather, the fear of having his disgusting private life broadcast to the entire world—I leave the hotel with Ransom.
It feels weird to not have to be hiding anymore, after spending so long looking over my shoulder, terrified of being caught. We’re still trying to stay under the radar until we’re ready to face Olivia, but with her still thinking I’m holed up with Troy, that’s not a huge concern at the moment.
Malice and Vic weren’t too keen on staying behind at the hotel though—especially Malice.
The three brothers have been so much more protective in the couple of days since they rescued me, almost to the point of smothering me with attention.
I can’t blame them for that, considering I was snatched away from them and dragged off in a Jeep while they watched in horror.
Ransom has always been affectionate and possessive with me, but it’s all been turned up a notch.
He keeps an eye out on our surroundings as we step outside the hotel, making sure nothing and no one can get close.
A man leaving right behind us gives me a second look, and Ransom glares at him with such intensity that the guy immediately averts his eyes and hurries to his own car.
“Ransom.” I purse my lips, shaking my head.
“What?”
“Are you going to give the stink eye to anyone who even looks at me funny?”
He shrugs, tucking his hands into his pockets as we cross the parking lot. “Why the hell not? You can never be too careful. And they shouldn’t be looking at you anyway.”
I shake my head, equal parts amused and touched by the complete sincerity in his voice.
When we get to the car—which they told me is one they stole on the way back from Mexico, swapping out the car Ransom hot-wired shortly after I was abducted—he opens the door for me before I can even reach for the handle.
I’m sure if he wasn’t trying to give me a little space, he’d probably buckle my seatbelt for me too, but instead, he waits for me to get settled before closing the door and going to the driver’s side.
He starts the car, and we peel out of the parking lot, heading to a shopping center outside the heart of the city.
“I almost didn’t think Malice was going to let us leave without him,” I comment as we drive.
Ransom snorts. “He’s in mother hen mode—although he’d kill me if he knew I called it that.
And I can’t really blame him for not wanting to let you out of his sight.
The only reason I didn’t freak out is because I get to stay with you the whole time.
Watch, if we’re not back in a couple of hours, he’s going to be calling every two minutes to make sure we’re alright. ”
“You’re all in mother hen mode,” I correct him. “But I get it.”
He snorts in amusement, but he doesn’t disagree with my assessment.
“Anyway,” he continues, “Mal and Vic have their own jobs to do, so they’ll have plenty to keep them busy while we’re gone. We’ve gotta make sure everything is in place before we approach Olivia. Like Vic said, this is our best opportunity, and we don’t want to fuck that up.”
We already have a date in mind for when we’ll make that move, but everything has to be ready first.
Honestly, all of it makes me anxious. I don’t want to see Olivia or talk to her, but I know I don’t really have a choice if I want to ever be free of her. Eventually, she’s going to realize that Troy is dead. Killing him only bought us a temporary reprieve.
Having the brothers on my side does make me feel better about it though. I have a real family for the first time in my life—ride or die people who would do anything for me.
No matter what Olivia throws at us, we can handle it.
“It’s going to be okay,” Ransom says, as if he can sense the way my thoughts are going. “Vic’s going to plan this whole thing to within an inch of its life, and Malice is great at adjusting in the moment if need be to make sure it will go off without a hitch. It’s going to be fine.”
“What are you going to do?” I ask him.
He grins. “Keep them from going to their extremes and making shit crazier than it has to be. That’s my specialty.”
We both laugh at that, and it feels good to be able to find some humor in all of this.
Ransom drives us to a shopping center I’ve never been to before, and we get out, stepping into a dress shop. It’s not as fancy as the places Olivia took me to, but it’s definitely more upscale than the places I used to shop. But that’s not really hard to do.
A sales woman greets us brightly as we walk in, glancing past me to Ransom, her eyes sparkling. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you and your… friend,” she says, beaming at him.
“I think we’ll be okay,” Ransom replies. “But thanks.”
He steers me past her, not quite touching me. We move past row after row of colorful clothes until we get to the section full of fancier gowns. There are so many of them it makes my eyes blur. All kinds of fabrics and colors and lengths, patterns and designs jumping out at me.
The truth is, before Olivia, I never really knew how to shop for myself. I bought the things I could afford, which was never anything luxurious or all that nice. Now that I have a chance to buy things that are pretty and purposeful, I feel like a fish out of water.
I wander the racks, looking at dresses, pulling a couple off the rack and then wavering. I have no idea what I’m looking for when it comes to cut or color or anything.
“This… fits,” I say, holding up a powder blue dress for Ransom to see. “I think it does, anyway.”
He looks it over and frowns. “That sure is a color, though. Do you like that one?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Blue is nice. I guess.”
“Blue is nice. That looks like an Easter egg gone wrong. And it’s not your color.”
“How do you know what my color is?” I ask.
“Angel, I’ve been checking you out for months now. Trust me, I know your colors.”
My cheeks flush as he makes a show of checking me out now, and to my relief, it doesn’t set off that awful sick, shaky feeling in my chest. Instead, I just laugh and put the Easter disaster dress back on the rack.
“I have no idea what I’m looking for,” I finally admit.
He smiles, coming over to the rack I’m going through. “Luckily for you, I’m here. I know this is usually Vic’s job, but I wanted to have my turn,” he says, teasing. “I can dress you just as well as he can.”
“You know he’s going to make some comment about the dress not being symmetrical enough if we don’t pick the right one,” I tease back.
“We don’t want to risk his wrath. Symmetry it is then.”
Weirdly, that task is a bit harder than it should be.
There are so many dresses that are cut higher in the front than the back, or on one side than the other.
Ransom holds up a bizarre black number that has one sleeve and is shorter in the back than the front, and we both shudder before he puts it back.
It’s interesting, watching his process for picking things out. He does seem to have an eye for color, and he stays away from the pastels, instead pulling out dresses in reds and greens and rich, dark blues. He finds one in a shimmering gold, pulling it out and holding it up to me.
It’s off the shoulder a bit, and it will definitely show off more of my scars than I’m used to, but Ransom has that look in his eyes.
“Are you sure about that one?” I ask, shifting a little nervously.
“If you don’t want to try it on, you definitely don’t have to,” he replies. “But I think gold would look amazing on you. It’ll add to how bright you already shine.”
I look at the dress and the look on Ransom’s face and then nod. “Okay, add it to the pile.”
He beams at me, and seeing that look definitely helps. I want to shine. I want to try to rise above the darkness and pain that I feel stuck in lately.
We go through a few more racks, and Ransom makes a case for more dresses.
The growing pile in his arms is getting a little out of hand, but it seems like he’s excited for me to try them all on.
There was probably a time when I would have been excited to do it too.
Now it just feels like a means to an end.
But getting back to the things I enjoy is part of healing, probably, so I take a deep breath and brush off the misgivings, trying to feel some pleasure here.
“We’ll go from least likely to most,” Ransom says, handing me three dresses. “That way we can eliminate them quickly.”
“You’re starting to sound like Vic,” I tell him, smiling.
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell him that. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
I just laugh and take the dresses into the dressing room. I get undressed quickly, not wanting to spend more time than I have to out of my clothes in this place I’m not comfortable in yet.
The first dress is blue, and I can already tell I’m not really going to like it. The material is scratchy, and instead of showing off my assets well, it just makes me look boxy.
I also can’t reach the zipper.
“Everything okay in there?” Ransom calls.
“I need a little help,” I call back. “I can’t get the zipper up.”
There’s a soft chuckle from outside, and then he comes in, closing the little door behind him.
I can feel his eyes on me as soon as he steps in, and he swallows as he looks me over. There’s no question what he’s looking at. I’m half in the dress, the zipper undone down my back, hair spilling over my shoulder where I flipped it forward to try to get it out of the way of the zipper.
It’s not what I would have called alluring, but Ransom’s eyes are burning into me, the heat palpable.
All of a sudden, the small room is full of tension, and it’s climbing by the minute.
If this were weeks ago, I would have teased him a little. I would have looked forward to the touch of his fingers as he zipped me up, trying to tempt him into touching me more.