Chapter 29
29
DAX
This was the closest I’d seen Fiona to panicking. Strange, because when someone was waving a gun around, she didn’t even blink. But the idea of having someone on her side made her lose her shit.
I could relate. Without Jack working as a hitman, I’d felt a little lost these past few months. I knew he had my back. Would take a bullet for me. He’d been my partner, in and out of crime, since elementary school.
Fiona, though, didn’t even like me holding her hand. We’d had sex. A bunch. But she’d kept it impersonal. She fled EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
Now, as I cupped her cool cheeks, I felt a different kind of connection. Not sexual chemistry, but something else. Something deeper. I wanted to break through that skittishness she had. I wanted her to let me the fuck in.
Why? It made no sense because I was just like her. Keeping everyone at a distance. Everyone away from my feelings. No one touched them. Nope.
But I was the one who wanted to touch Fiona. I was the one who wanted to get closer. I’d known since the first second I saw her in the convenience store that she was different. That I was hooked.
Jimmy said love destroyed. It was also really fucking hard.
“Dottie’s cheesy rice is real,” I said, trying to calm her down. To keep her right here with me. I had no idea what the hell I was doing, but I wanted to stop chasing her in the middle of the night.
“Do you know what happened last night?” she asked, glancing down at her running shoes and not at me.
I stroked her cheek with my thumb, then slid my hands down to her shoulders. They were sturdy and strong beneath her fleece top.
We stood in the middle of the street. Talking. It was cold. Dark. There was a good chance Fiona would kick my knee out or bolt.
I could only imagine what happened the night before. Calamity seemed to happen wherever she went.
“What?”
“Craft night. We painted pumpkins.”
I cringed at the horror of it. It was worse than I thought.
Finally, she lifted her eyes to mine. They weren’t filled with derision or annoyance. They were bright with cautious excitement. “I won. My glittery Medusa pumpkin won the competition. I got a sash.”
My mouth turned up, amused at how disgruntled she sounded. “A sash?”
She nodded, her ponytail sliding over her shoulder. “It was…”
I expected her to say horrible. Mortifying. Dull. Ridiculous. Stupid.
Instead, she said, just above a whisper, “Amazing.”
While I couldn’t imagine sitting around and painting anything, let alone pumpkins, if Fiona said it was fun, then it must’ve been. She was as wary of normal people and normal things as I was.
“I think I want Dottie to adopt me,” she added.
I kept my lips zipped because she was talking about her feelings.
Yeah, what the hell was wrong with me wanting a woman to talk about her feelings?
I understood women. At least women who I’d been with in the past. Interested in a sugar daddy. Seeking a husband. Whatever. I knew the score and stayed out of that game. I kept enough distance between the women I fucked to ensure their manicured talons didn’t get hooked into me.
Fiona wasn’t interested in that. She wasn’t interested in me .
I had to get her to see I was on her side. I was worth keeping around. I was worth not running from. That I could shoulder the weight of her problems .
“She hugged me, Dax. Told me she was proud of me.” Her eyes–at least in the glow of the streetlamps–looked like they were tear filled.
“I hope you didn’t throat punch her for saying that,” I said with a smirk. “She owes me some spaghetti.”
Her lip quirked. “It’s in my fridge. And no, she’s unharmed.”
“I don’t understand the problem, sweetheart.” I reached up tentatively, as if she was a skittish animal, and stroked her hair.
She sighed. “It was the first time anyone ever said they were proud of me.”
Oh.
Oh shit. I knew Big Mike loved me. Knew he was proud of me, even though I was a fixer who took care of dead bodies and amputated fingers. He retired and literally handed his business to me because he knew I could handle it.
Fuck being cautious. I pulled her into my arms. Hugged her tight. Cupped the back of her head and whispered into her ear. “You amaze me.”
Yeah, that was what she did. Made me happy. Made me horny. Made me want to kill. I wanted to destroy the world for letting Fiona down over and over.
“Are you saying that because I’m armed?”
I laughed but saw her sarcasm for what it was. Deflection. “Why do you think compliments are lies?”
She shrugged. “I’m not used to them.”
I sighed, kissed the top of her head. “Get used to them because when I say them, I mean it. When Dottie says them, I’m sure she means them, too.”
She didn’t reply. I gave her a lot to think about. To feel.
I held her for a while, standing in the middle of the empty street, my car blocking the road. No one bothered us.
“You can’t go back in there,” I said, figuring I’d pushed her enough on emotions. “The pickle place.”
“Why not?” she asked the front of my sweatshirt.
“This is a small town. Everyone remembers everything. If they aren’t on to you, they won’t forget you. You’re the annoying woman who’s got an obsession with pickles.” I frowned. “That sounds filthy, and perhaps accurate. I like it, as long as it’s my pickle you’re obsessed with.”
She pulled back, looked up at me and gave me an eye roll. I loosened my hold, but didn’t release her. I liked her where she was.
“That’s because you said I was pregnant.”
“You blew it, sweetheart,” I added, but said it softly so she understood I wasn’t mad.
“We,” she clarified.
I stayed quiet, because I hadn’t been the one to walk into the store solo.
“Fine. I blew it,” she grudgingly agreed. “Then we need someone else to help.”
“Dottie?” she suggested.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Did you know she was the office manager for the Coal Springs police department?”
“That explains a lot,” she said, staring up at the pitch-black sky. “She’d take the pickle people a casserole and then blow her cover asking too many probing questions while they ate it.”
I didn’t know Dottie as well as Fiona, but it sounded pretty darn accurate. “True. We need someone clueless. Someone those guys will never, ever think would be onto them.” I rubbed my chin, then smiled. “I have just the couple.”
“Who?”
“Hannah’s parents.”
While I didn’t want to see any harm come to them, I didn’t mind too much putting them in possible danger. They could be collateral damage. I knew Jack wouldn’t care and I doubted Hannah would either.
They’d had the head of the Las Vegas mafia holding a gun on the entire family in their living room and they hadn’t been fazed.
Fiona looked confused. “Why them?”
“Oh, you’ll just have to wait and see.”