Chapter 10
10
BIJOU
R utger snarls, “If you didn’t know your brother was at the Bow, why’d you lead him straight to me the first fucking chance you got?”
My brow knits. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“The moment you saw me from the stage, you led the whole damn place to my table. It’s obvious what you were doing… pointing me out to Raul and his associates.”
“How would I do that? Raul wasn’t even there.” Was he? My head swims at Rutger’s insistent suggestion.
“Of course, you know he was there. He came for you.”
I shrug. “I haven’t talked to Raul in five years… until tonight. He called in the middle of my set break…” I start to tell him about the bouquet and card but stop short. The less Rutger knows, the safer he’ll be. “I made it clear I didn’t want to talk to him.”
“That doesn’t sound like you,” Rutger challenges, his face stony.
“A lot changed… afterward. Things have never been the same.”
Silence.
Finally, I break it, admitting, “When I saw you in the audience, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I had to see you. I couldn’t stop myself. That was all.”
He clenches his teeth together until I can hear them grinding.
The lights from the street streak inside the car, casting my arms and dress in wild shades of orange, yellow, blue, pink, and red. We’re off the freeway again, taking side roads lined with dive bars and looming neon signs. I look over my shoulder, unable to shake the feeling someone’s following us.
Rutger confirms my suspicion, asking, “P Boy’s crew is tailing us. Any idea why?”
Swallowing hard, I reply, “Raul was recently involved in three unsanctioned hits. They could be looking for a reprisal.”
“They’d have already gunned us down if that were the case,” he replies flatly.
I shake my head, fingering the Blue Moon and swallowing hard.
Clearing his throat, Rutger says, “When you said a lot changed afterward, I’m assuming you mean the elopement?”
Tears flood my eyes. This is the first time I’ve seen him since that day. And the first time we’ve talked in person about those events.
Nodding, I worry my thick lower lip. Warm tears streak across my cheeks. Wiping the back of my hand over my face, I side-eye Rutger.
He white-knuckles the steering wheel. Tension settles thick and suffocating between us.
There’s so much I long to tell him. But can’t. I have to keep him a safe distance from my family… and me. No matter how painful it is.
His cell phone vibrates, and he digs into his pocket, retrieves it, and answers it. I gather from Rutger’s part of the conversation that he’s getting an update about the car following us. I don’t hear all the details, but the voice on the other end is male. He must give the all-clear because the cowboy sounds relieved, saying he needs to gas up.
At the pump, he moves quickly, inspecting the bottom of the vehicle for I don’t know what. Then, he sprints into the store, appearing moments later with a couple of bottles of water, pretzels, mixed nuts, and chips he throws into the backseat.
Careful not to touch my hand, he passes me a can of lightly salted macadamia nuts and a banana-flavored MoonPie—both absolute favorites.
“You remembered.” My voice trembles, reflecting on a time when we were perfectly, completely, irrationally happy together.
His baby blues sizzle as they meet mine. “I couldn’t forget.”
Leaning over me, his eyes narrow, taking me in before he fumbles with the handcuffs. The warmth from his muscular body and the smell of his dark, woodsy cologne send delicious shivers up and down my spine.
My panties are moist, and the spot above them tight. I fantasize about him slipping his hand under my dress, sliding it up the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, his rough fingers sinking into my dripping folds. I sigh, catching myself mid-fantasy.
Does he feel the shocks of electricity jumping between our skin?
His nostrils flare, and his cheeks darken. His face is inches from mine. I hold my breath, anticipating his kiss. The kiss he denied me at the Bow. Instead, he pulls back, his face granite as he moves the handcuff to my left wrist before searching for a new place to restrain me. He settles on the bottom of his seat’s headrest, where the thin metal prongs join the top of the chair.
Our faces remain intoxicatingly close, our breaths co-mingling. Breaking the silence, I say, “You realize I can easily escape from this particular setup. All I have to do is remove the headrest.”
“Of course,” he growls. “I’m not trying to imprison you. Just slow you down and keep an eye on you until I bring in your asshole brother.”
Turning away, Rutger puts the key in the ignition. He pulls out of the parking lot and back onto the highway.
“Where are you taking me?”
He sighs. “Honestly, it’s not where I’m taking you, beauty. It’s where I’m taking P Boy and his goons. They seem mighty interested in following us. An odd predicament for a fugitive recovery agent. Usually, I’m the one doing the chasing.”
A fugitive recovery agent.
So, that’s what’s going on. Such a strange irony. My ex-fiancé tracking down my brother for a bounty.
Another part of what Rutger says shamelessly makes my heart flutter: the two-syllable word ‘beauty.’ It’s one of his old pet names for me. It sounds so right on his lips that I fight back tears.