Chapter Twenty-Five
Amongst Hostages and Accomplices
Menace
Damn. I didn’t realize being honest with a chick made you feel so vulnerable. I wasn’t sure I liked it, but I really didn’t want to drag her out by force.
“You don’t want me,” she whispered,drawing a choked-back laugh from me.
“Yeah. I do.”
“You don’t know.” She all but shrank into the corner, but I wasn’t budging, I stepped into her space.
“Stop,” she pleaded, so quietly it pained me. “I can’t be what you want. I’m– “
“Perfect.” I cut her off.
“Ruined.” Her voice cracked. “I was ruined, okay? You can’t– You can’t be with me like that. He gave me–”
“I know.” I cut her off with a shrug.
Her gaze anchored on me, disbelief in her eyes.
“Even if you couldn’t fuck me, I’d still be obsessed with you. I may not even make it across the street with you– but if there is even the smallest chance that I can– I’m taking it.”
“You don’t want–”
“Don’t tell me what I want. Tell me you don’t want me. How about that? Can you say that?”
She blinked, and her lips floundered.
“That’s what I thought.” I smashed a kiss to her lips and swept her right off her feet.
She screeched and flung her arms around my neck even as she flailed. I curled and tightened, jostling her on purpose to settle her down as I flew through the house. I saw her purse and keys shining on the side of it where they were clipped. I snagged it without breaking my stride.
I was already out the front door when she gathered enough balance to shove at me. She slugged me in my shoulder on the front step before she finally relaxed.
“Asshole,” she hissed, “You could have let me get dressed!”
“Not an asshole. I’m carrying you princess-style to your chariot.”
I struggled to get the door open, leaving her scrabbling at my shoulders. Once I did, I flung her to the passenger seat a little rougher than I intended, it was only because I saw the camera on the neighbors’ garage.
I suppose it was better they think of her as an unwilling participant in all of this. It would save her questions later.
I got in and slammed the door, taking the keys off her purse before she could object.
“Just because some fucking tool fails to realize how precious you are, that doesn’t mean you aren’t mine to spoil. Just means I’m the lucky bastard that gets to dust you off and help you shine again, doll.”
I winked at her, unable to stop the laugh that crawled from me when I saw her plastered against the passenger door and staring at me like I was a madman.
“We got a long ride ahead of us, and it’s been a minute since I drove anything with four wheels, so– Buckle up, huh?”
She slowly shifted and did as I advised, and I put the car on the road and pointed us toward Mt. Vernon and the cabin.
She was quiet for a long while.
“Aren’t you afraid of being spotted?” she asked, when dawn finally broke.
“Huh?” I was startled by the sudden sound of her voice.
“You’re driving down the interstate in a goddamn prison jumpsuit.”
I glanced down and laughed. It brewed into a fit of giggles that I couldn’t control.
“Can you grab this a minute?” I asked, tapping the wheel.
She hesitantly sat up and did so while I undid the top and shimmied one arm and then the next out of it. My undershirt was plain and white, nothing out of the ordinary. As long as I stayed in the car, no one would see me from the waist down.
“I don’t know where you intend to go, but– Is it smart to show up like that?” she asked.
I groaned and considered what she was saying. Octavia wasn’t in any position to argue with my circumstances, she’d be afraid I’d call Henny and mess up her plans about spending time with Rumi. Sam was right, though, Octavia probably wouldn’t appreciate me showing up in orange in front of my niece. I didn’t want to upset Rumi, either.
She was a good kid, the less she knew about all of this, the better.
“Shit.”
“Where are we?” She studied the big green sign.
“Centralia is the next exit.”
“Yeah,” I acknowledged, rubbing at my jaw.
“I could go into Walmart and get some stuff.”
“No.” I instantly dismissed the idea. “Too many cameras.”
She sucked air through her teeth in a thoughtful way, “They have a strip mall, but it’s so early…”
She glanced back at me, and her gaze dropped to my chin, “You need to clean that, bandage it.”
My attention shot to the rearview mirror, and I tipped my chin. It had a half inch laceration, but it wasn’t the worst injury I’d ever ended a rumble with.
“Be fine,” I mumbled.
She nodded and seemed to melt against the passenger door.
“Hey,” I whispered, reaching abruptly for her hand.
She flinched and I paused before settling my own atop it on her thigh.
“It’s okay. You can trust me.”
“I don’t know you.”
I snorted and side-eyed her.
“What?”
“Do you always send pictures of your ass to incarcerated men that you — don’t know?”
Her face fell and a hint of blush crept onto her cheeks. I slid my fingers between hers and brought her hand up to my mouth. She stared at me while I planted a kiss on her knuckles and checked the traffic in front of us.
“You’re scared, and that’s okay. You don’t have to be, but you are, and I don’t fault you for it… I just want you to know, you don’t have to be scared when you’re with me or be afraid of me. Ever.”
“Are you crazy?” She shifted to give me her full attention, placing her back to the door again, though she didn’t try to draw her hand away. “Because there are federal agents, and U.S. Marshals hunting you right now, and— and you think– we’re safe? I’m an accomplice to your escape right now, Lennox.”
I bit my lip. The sound of my government name on her lips– All full of concern. Fuck. No chick had ever called me that before. I liked it. A lot.
“Why the fuck are you staring at me like that? Say something,” she demanded.
“You’re not an accomplice. As far as they know, you’re my hostage.”
“Hostage.” Her face fell flat, the way that Ziggy’s did when a prospect said some really dumb shit.
I laughed, unable to keep from snorting.
“What?”
“You look like your dad sometimes, you know that?”
That empty slate expression soured in slow motion until it settled into a bitter frown, and I lost it.
“Oh shit,” I laughed, glancing between her and the road as I tried to compose myself.
All that laughing was killing my ribs.
“Fuck you.” She huffed, flouncing back in her seat and folding her arms.
I felt bad for a minute, until that left brow arched with unspoken irritation.
It was Ziggy all over again, and I fucking howled.
“You’re an asshole,” she venomously charged for the second time.
I nodded, trying to get myself together before I wrecked, or drew attention from other drivers. “I accept that, sweetheart.”