Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Dylan stayed by my side as I shuffled around my room, trying to figure out what I needed to take with me.
A couple of old t-shirts, socks and underwear, and I still had an empty side in my suitcase.
I didn’t have much to my name at all. I had to leave most of it behind when I moved out of Regan’s house.
“I know this is easier said than done,” Dylan started, “but try not to stress. New Orleans is seven hundred miles away.”
“I’m trying,” I said, tossing some medication into a bag and trying to ignore the heat behind my eyes. “I really thought it was over.”
“I know, but it will be.” I tried to walk past him, but he stepped into my path. “They’ll catch him, David. They always do.”
“And last time he nearly killed me before they did.” My voice cracked. “I’m so tired of running. How far do I have to go to get him to leave me alone?”
“He’s not going to lay a hand on you. André seems like a great person. I wouldn’t let you leave the state with him if I didn’t think as much. Let him help.”
If Dylan could trust André, then I had a little more faith that I could. It wasn’t complete trust yet, but I felt myself getting there. “Are you sure you’ll be okay here by yourself?”
“Are you joking? I’ve been waiting months to have the place to myself.” At my glare, he sobered. “I’ll be fine.”
I shared an emotional goodbye with Dylan, and he drove me back to the hotel.
Once André had delivered on his promise of—not fish—tacos, we sat in the backseat of a car on the way to the airport.
It was a long drive, so André settled in for the ride.
He tugged me into the middle seat, throwing his arm around me and holding me close.
André kept me as close as possible through the airport.
When the hardware in my jeans set off the detectors, I panicked at being touched by the agent.
But André was right there the entire time.
The moment he could, he took my hand, stroking his thumb across my skin.
“You okay?” he asked, seeming to be able to read me like a book.
All it took was a longing glance at the restrooms before he was guiding me in their direction.
After, he tugged me over to a Starbucks next to our gate. Despite still being full from the tacos, he asked if I was hungry. I shook my head, overwhelmed, but he still ordered a cinnamon bun with his black coffee. “What do you want, baby?”
“Can I have a venti iced white chocolate mocha with six pumps of white mocha, three pumps of vanilla, five pumps of caramel, and five pumps of classic with vanilla sweet cream cold foam and extra caramel drizzle?”
The barista kept up with my order like a pro, André being the one to crook a brow at me. “You want some coffee with that sugar?” he teased.
I accepted my drink when it was handed over the counter. “It’s better than that dirty bean water you have there.”
“I’ll keep my dirty bean water, thank you very much.”
“Maybe it’s a reflection of your soul.”
“If that’s true, then your soul is headed for a sugar crash.”
“I like it that way.”
I sat next to André at the gate, busying myself with a book on my phone while we waited. Despite looking over my shoulder at every turn, I was… content. Regan and I were never able to banter like that, and he never let me spend money on such frivolous things as coffee.
I wanted nothing more than to drop my hand down to capture Andre’s and after shifting my drink, I did.
He tensed at first, cursing my cold fingers, but relaxed when he realized I wasn’t moving.
I went quiet, focused on stirring the syrup that had settled to the bottom of my drink.
That was the moment the reality of my situation hit me like a freight train.
I sniffled, and André picked his head up from his phone. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t want him to find me,” I admitted.
“I can’t believe it’s come to me fleeing the state with someone I barely know so he won’t try to kill me again.
” Then, realizing what I said, I rushed to add, “I don’t want to sound ungrateful.
I do really like you, and I’m grateful you’re letting me stay with you—”
André silenced me by confiscating my drink—maybe it was too much sugar—and pulling me close. “I understand, David. It’s not an ideal situation, I know that. But I promise I’ll keep you safe.”
They called for us to board, and André pulled me to my feet.
I hadn’t even paid any attention to the boarding passes, so when André stopped in front of two seats in business class, I froze. The seats were more spacious, and sat two to a row versus the three that I was used to.
André lifted his suitcase into the overhead bins, then mine before I could protest. I took my seat, trying to take in my surroundings. Relaxing in my chair, I was surprised to find that I could completely stretch my legs out.
André laughed. “You’ve never flown in business class before?”
“I can barely afford economy.”
I tried to sleep, but the flight just wasn’t long enough.
Just as I started to doze off, André was reaching over to re-fasten my seatbelt.
He apologized profusely for waking me up, sweetening the deal with a kiss to my temple.
When we landed, André took both our cases down, wheeling them off the plane and reaching for my hand the first chance he got. “Did you drive here?” I asked.
He nodded. “I’m licensed in quite a few states and travel sometimes for work, so they give me a parking pass whether I use it or not. So I take it and I don’t complain.”
Pausing in front of a row of luxury cars, André dropped my hand and fished his keys from his pocket. When he pressed the button, the trunk of a shiny black Aston Martin popped open.
“Of course,” I chuckled.
“Are you that surprised? I didn’t think me being high maintenance was a secret.” After putting our cases in, André slammed the trunk shut and ducked down for a kiss. “You might die when you see the hot tub.”
I blinked, stunned. “Hot tub? In your apartment?”
“Well, not in it—it’s on the terrace.”
Before I could comment further, he opened the passenger’s door for me. His arm snaked around my waist, and he pulled me close.
“You can enjoy this,” he whispered against my lips. “Just because you’re here hiding doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun.”
André was right: I needed to relax. I was doing everything I could and to a certain point, that had to be enough.
I let him close the door after I sat down, and relaxed in my seat.
André climbed in himself, planting his hand on my thigh.
I slid further down in the seat and into his touch.
I was exhausted, so I didn’t say much as he drove through the streets.
This side of New Orleans was completely different than what I’d seen before.
Cobblestone gave way to asphalt, and the skyscrapers paled in comparison to the historic buildings of Bourbon Street.
Eventually André pulled into another parking deck, scanning a keycard he’d pulled from his pocket.
He wound up a few levels, then found a spot in the corner.
By the time I’d gathered the strength to stand up, André was already in front of me with both suitcases in one hand, and ready to take my hand with the other.
We exited the parking deck and crossed the street to the apartment complex. Before we even approached the door, a tall man with dark skin pushed it open. He smiled at us, tipping his hat. “Good evening, gentlemen.”
“Evening, Charles,” André greeted.
“How was your trip, Mr. Collins?” Charles returned to his post next to the door, letting it slowly swing shut.
“It was good.” André stopped and put his arm around my waist. “This is David, he’s going to be staying with me for a while. Can you help him out a little when I’m not here? He’s not too familiar with the area.”
“Of course.” The man turned to me. “Welcome to New Orleans, Mr.…”
“Oh, uh, just David is fine, really.”
André instructed me to wait by the elevator, but I was none the wiser as to his true motives. He handed a small slip of paper over to Charles—a picture of Regan. He was warning him to keep an eye out for the psycho ex-boyfriend to show up and try and kill me again.
I averted my gaze quickly. I didn’t need to see the pity on Charles’s face.
André strolled across the lobby, and I distracted myself by drinking in the picture.
He pressed the button, sliding his arm around me as we waited.
I rested my chin on his chest and gazed into his eyes.
He looked exhausted. He must have stayed up after I fell asleep the night before.
I could only tell by the way his eyelids drooped.
His skin didn’t go dull like mine, nor did he have a hint of bags under his eyes.
God forbid I sleep an hour less than normal and risk looking like a raccoon—which had been more than normal lately.
“Whatcha thinking about darlin’?” he slurred, combing his fingers through my hair.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked. “About bringing me here? Things could get really messy.”
André curled his hand around my cheek, brushing the pad of his thumb over my lips. “Baby, if I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have let you get this far.”
I was interrupted by any further thoughts by the elevator dinging on the thirty-fifth floor. I didn’t even think it was possible for a building to have so many.
André gave me a gentle kiss and led me out of the elevator.
There were only two doors on that floor, yet the area was spacious.
The suitcase wheels rattled against the hardwood floors and the sound echoed off the clean white walls.
We passed the door on the left, continuing down to the one on the right.
André asked me to take over pushing the suitcases while he opened the door and waited for me to enter before he closed it behind me.
He kicked his shoes off, and I followed his lead, bending down to untie my sneakers.
“This way, baby.” He directed me down a long hallway behind the kitchen.
André flipped on a light switch that illuminated the room and separated our suitcases, setting mine inside the door.
For a single man who lived alone, I was pleasantly surprised.
A full-sized bed sat in the middle of the room, bracketed with sleek black nightstands.
Crisp, white cotton sheets made up the bed and a fluffy blue throw blanket was neatly folded at the bottom of the mattress.
There was a door to my left, and another across from the bed.
A couple paintings decorated the walls, and dark blue curtains covered the window.
“Closet’s here,” André said, gesturing to the door beside me. “And that’s the bathroom.” He led me over and opened the door to the Jack-and-Jill style bathroom. “That door leads to my office, but I never come in here, so you can keep that locked.”
Back out we went, and down the hallway to the living room.
A blackout curtain covered the far wall.
André dropped my hand to cross the room, taking two steps down into the sunken sitting area, bypassing the two leather couches that faced the flat screen on the wall.
He pulled the curtain open, revealing the terrace and the aforementioned hot tub.
Beyond that was the most stunning view of New Orleans I’d ever seen.
It felt like we were on top of the world.
“Come here,” André commanded. I crossed the space between us, stepping into André’s open arms.
He motioned to the door behind him. “This is my bedroom, and I’m sure I don’t have to explain the kitchen.
You can help yourself to anything you need.
” He pushed his lips against my forehead.
“I want you to be comfortable here. You’re more than welcome to stay in my room, but I thought you’d want your own space. Everything is entirely up to you.”
André put his fingers under my chin and lifted my head to kiss me. “Do you need anything?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m just tired. I think I’ll lay down for a bit.”
“Okay. I’m going to take a shower. You come find me if you need me.”
André stepped away and went into his ensuite bathroom.
I smirked, and instead of going back to the guest room like I probably should have, I waited for the shower to turn on before I stripped and climbed into André’s bed, setting my phone on the nightstand.
The silky-soft sheets nearly made me moan.
Instead, I sighed in relief, settling into the plush mattress.
I heard my phone vibrate, but I ignored it. I was way too close to dozing off. When the shower turned off, André slipped into the bed behind me. Only then did I close my eyes, listening to the buzzing continue as I fell into a deep sleep.