SIXTEEN
“Are you sure this is okay?”
Beside me, Arlo chuckles, wrapping his arms around me. He pulls me even closer to his side, barely allowing me to move. It’s not uncomfortable, which is odd. It’s more… surprising. Something new, something exciting.
“Of course it’s okay,”
Arlo smiles.
“The nurse will be back for me any minute now,”
I grunt. “I’ll get kicked out, and it will be all your fault.”
“Kicked out? You? Absolutely not, unless the hospital staff wants to clean blood off these tiles.”
I tense under his touch, but it’s a fleeting moment. When he starts stroking the lower part of my back, I relax. Goosebumps tug my skin, yet it’s one of the most soothing, calming sensations I’ve felt. His warm touch under my shirt brings harmony into my chest.
It’s easy to forget what Arlo does for a living, given how well he’s treating me. Fuck, the man massacred the entire prison just for me to escape. Doubting him is foolish, and I know he will never hesitate to put his words into action.
It’s sadistic of me to feel giddy at the thought of Arlo bathing in someone’s blood. Specifically, someone who hurt me and deserved to be killed. Yet the thoughts are there, lingering in the back of my head, almost all the time.
However, it doesn’t erase the fact that this man had planted a camera in Arson’s collar. I need to know too many things, yet no questions are voiced out. Where do I even start? What if I end up hating the answers? What if it ruins my pretty fantasy that I’ve created of Arlo?”
Then again, my mind won’t stop bothering me until I know everything.
“Why did you put a camera in Arson’s collar?”
I blurt out the words without taking a moment to think them through. For a moment, it’s like I’m the most straightforward person in the world, and a part of me is shocked that I was able to boldly ask the question without fear of consequences.
Arlo’s movements on my back pause for a second, then he starts stroking my back again.
“I’m sorry.”
His words are sincere; I can feel it in my bones. Though it catches me off guard – out of all the things I expected to come out of his mouth, an apology wasn’t one of them.
“It’s fucked up, and I’m sorry. Breaching your privacy never occurred to me, and I promise you, I was never watching you in your intimate or vulnerable moments.”
I swallow a knot that forms in my throat.
“But I’m not sorry for protecting you. It was the only way I knew of looking out for you without revealing myself.”
“You could’ve come to meet me.”
“And you would’ve let me in?”
“Well, no–”
“There you go. You weren’t ready. You were just settling in and trying your best to survive. I did everything I could to ensure that and protect the small bubble of peace you’ve created from the shadows.”
My brows narrow. “Wait, were you the one who sent me Amy Marshall details?”
“Yup,” he grins.
After that man picked me up from the side of the road once I escaped prison, I was clueless as to where to go. The man, Hudson, had offered me a place to stay for a while. I was reluctant to accept, but he assured me that it was just an empty studio complex that his wife owned. With nowhere else to go, I accepted.
Four days into my stay there, I got a package at the door.
It had everything Amy Marshall related – her birth certificate, ID, driver’s license, passport, and her high school diploma. As if that wasn’t odd enough, the woman had my face on all of her documents. A small letter was attached to the package, explaining that it was a gift.
With no other options, I took it.
That was when I became Amy Marshall and went to her hometown, Long Grove. Her parents were long dead, and no one had seen Amy in so long that they didn’t question whether or not I looked like the Amy they remembered.
“It makes sense,”
I mutter. “Why’d you go through all of that? We only met in prison, so why me?”
Arlo jaw clenches, and he looks away, staring at the wall across from us. His breathing is uneven, and he seems to be trying to regain his calm, but anger is slowly shining through the cracks.
“At the time, I had an assignment. There was a woman, an inmate, and she was dealing drugs within the prison. Well, one of the doctors was the son of a hotshot, and he overdosed on the drugs she provided. Naturally, the said hotshot wanted her dead, and I was sent inside to do the job. That’s when I met you.”
“What a lovely story,”
I mumble, dryly.
Arlo laughs. “There was a reason you caught my attention. You were the first and only person to notice I was too young to be a doctor.”
“Out of curiosity, how old were you?”
“Eighteen.”
“Eighteen?!”
I sat up straight, baffled. “What?”
“Yeah, and I also learned how to stitch people from a few online forums and tutorials.”
“I could tell,”
I hissed. “I still have scars from your terrible work.”
Arlo winces. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“The main reason I kept on thinking about you was because I had files on every patient. I could also see why you were in, and amongst the monsters inside, you were an innocent soul.”
“Not really. I did kill my mother and stepfather.”
“They deserved it.”
“Not in the eyes of the law,” I shrug.
“The same law that has failed you and is failing so many young people, so many women. It was justified in my eyes.”
“As I said, not in the eyes of the law.”
“I am the law.”
I snort. “Sure you are.”
Arlo’s hand sneaks around my waist, and he pulls me closer to himself. He was shot twice in his lower back and had just woken up not too long ago, yet still has such strength in his arms; it is astonishing. Amazing, but also mind-blowing. As if it doesn’t hurt at all.
“Don’t run away from me,”
he leans his cheek on my shoulder. “I can survive a bullet storm, but not you running away from me.”
Ever since we’ve met, he’s been showing me affection and nothing less. He’s taken care of me even when I was not able to, and if I ignore the stalking and the camera in Arson’s collar, it’s perfect. He’s never made me feel unworthy, unappreciated, or unwanted.
“Why would I run away?”
Carefully, I thread my fingers through his hair and start playing with the soft locks. I did the same thing during the car ride, but he was asleep. Now, I’m a little scared of how he’ll react to my sudden touch.
Instead of rejecting it, he completely relaxes next to me, snuggling closer to my side as his eyes close. His grip on my waist remains just as solid, not allowing me to move an inch.
“I don’t know,”
he breathes out. “But regardless, I’m not letting you leave my side. Now that I’ve found my missing piece, I’m holding onto it. And I’ll be damned if I ever let go.”
His words leave me in a haze as his breathing evens out, and he falls asleep on my shoulder. The sound of his heartbeat hits my ears, and it’s a perfect melody, as perfect as the piano recordings he’d been sending me. Weirdly enough, those are my most prized possessions.
My curiosity isn’t quite satisfied yet. There are too many questions I want to ask, but Arlo needs proper rest first. My heart aches at the thought of his recovery process, those thoughts of me being to blame for his state still probing into my brain.
While I stroke his hair, and he leans in, nuzzling his head in the crook of my neck, I realize just how desperately I don’t want to leave. And his words from a moment ago just proved that trying to run from him was futile. With him by my side, I’m bound to regain control over my life and put all those demons to rest.
For that, we need to start thoroughly planning and executing our revenge on Adams and Simmons. It’s going to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I’ll manage.
As long as we have this harmony between us, nothing is out of reach.
“I’m extremely uncomfortable right now.”
Immediately, Arlo pumps on the brakes. Luckily for me, I have the seat belt on; otherwise, I might’ve flown right out of the windshield. He turns to look at me, genuine concern flashing behind his gray eyes. At times, they appear to be white, which is creepy, but in a good way.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean, what’s wrong? You’ve just been discharged from the hospital. Let me drive.”
“Absolutely not,”
his retort is immediate. “I’d rather die than actually allow you to drive me around.”
I frown. “Why?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. The thought of driving you around is very appealing. I like it.”
“You’ve been shot twice, dumbass. You need total rest. You’ll rip out your stitches.”
“It’s worth it,”
he flashes me a toothy grin.
“Anyway,”
I briefly looked out of the window, knowing this isn’t a fight I’ll win. “Where are we going?”
“Home,”
Arlo clears his throat. “My parent’s home.”
“Why?”
“Now that Simmons has made his move and shot me twice, my parents will want to speed up the process of his entire operation. But we can’t do that until you’re mentally and physically prepared.”
My breath hitches in my throat, and I look at him as if he’d grown a second head. Arlo remains focused on the road, finally driving off from the rushed parked spot in the middle of the highway. He’s not sparing me a glance, a glance that I desperately need.
It’s the fact that I’m about to meet his parents and consequently be under the same roof as three trained hitmen. One wrong move and I’m as good as dead.
“Are your parents aware that we’re heading to their house?”
“Of course,”
he nodded. “They’re excited to meet you.”
“Uh-uh, I’m sure they’re thrilled,”
I draw out.
He chuckles. “They’re happy that we can get this thing moving. If you’re scared, they’ll not rush you into anything. I’d never allow that.”
Swallowing the unnecessary questions that formed in my head, I decided to focus on more important matters. From the family history that Arlo told me, I don’t doubt that his parents are a couple that is truly devoted to one another, though I barely know anything about them as individuals.
“What are they like?”
“Mama is very… kind? That’s what I want to say, but one memory always makes me stop and think before speaking. A few years back, when I was about fifteen, there was an intruder in the house. Dad was away, and my little sister was knocked out cold, and I just woke up hungry. Mama was already in the kitchen, so she made us a snack. Then, a man managed to get past the security and come into the house. So, when she saw him, she screamed.”
“Jesus,”
my mouth drops open. “She must’ve been terrified.”
“Not exactly,”
Arlo winces. “You see, it was November, and it had been raining for days prior to that incident, so there was mud everywhere. She screamed because he got the mud on her white, fluffy carpets. She grabbed the nearest sharp object, a pair of scissors, and just flung it at him. The scissors opened midair, and each blade hit one of his eyes.”
“I keep forgetting this isn’t a normal family.”
“What even is normal? For me, the way I’d been brought up and raised is normal. I was taught how to show respect, stand up for myself, and always make my own decisions, knowing that some will have consequences. If anything, Mama and Dad did a wonderful job of raising me. Not my little sister, though. She’s a spoiled brat.”
I snort. “What about your work? Is it… common?”
He lifts a shoulder. “It’s just a job.”
“Your job is to kill people.”
“I’m aware.”
“That could land you in prison.”
“Quite possibly.”
“And you won’t quit?”
“No,”
he grins. “If anything, it’s the thrill that keeps me going. It’s not like I pick random people off the street and kill them because I’m bored.”
I squint my eyes. “You don’t?”
“Well, it might’ve happened once or twice.”
“Once or twice,”
I repeat in disbelief.
“Maybe like five times? I don’t remember.”
“This conversation is giving me a headache,”
I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and index finger.
“Listen, Blair,”
Arlo’s tone is serious, and my ears perk. “My job is a part of who I am. Without that, I wouldn’t know who I am. It’s unconventional, for sure, but it’s been a big part of my life since I was born. I can’t just quit. I won’t quit.”
I don’t respond – I have no words to offer. Not once did Arlo lie to me about who he was or what he did for a living, but I still can’t help but feel anxiety burst through my chest. It’s not fear; if anything, I’m safer with Arlo than with anyone else. It’s pure terror and dread that one day, while on one of his jobs, he won’t come back home to me.
“Are you afraid of me?”
The sound of his voice cracking snaps something inside of me. My eyes flicker upward to meet his, and the terror of me being scared of him is evident on his entire face. His hands grip the steering wheel as he looks back on the road, so much sorrow behind those gorgeous gray eyes.
“No,”
the confident tone in my voice manages to surprise me. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid for you.”
His face splits into a wide grin. It’s as if my words are enough to clear the stormy sky inside of his head, and rays of sunshine manage to break their way into the gloomy, dark, and scary thoughts. The gem on his tooth is shining as brightly as his smile, and it makes my heart flutter.
“Does that mean I’ve snuck my way into your heart?”
He teases, a hint of desperation coating his words. Instead of responding, I look out of the window, hiding my flushed cheeks from his hungry eyes. The redness on my flesh only intensifies at the sound of his deep, throaty laughter.
“Anyway,”
I cleared my throat. “What about your father?”
“Dunno,”
he deadpans. “He’s just… My dad. He’s been competing with me for years, who's Mama’s favorite man. Spoiler alert, it’s me, despite him claiming otherwise.”
A small laugh slips from me. “You’re a mama’s boy.”
He beams. “A proud one, too.”
“I can tell,” I grin.
His humorous laughter turns into a nervous chuckle, and his eyes are wide, a timorous gaze lingering. He avoids looking at me like the plague, interested in the road ahead. My brows crease, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“About that,”
he chuckles. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”
“Then, tell me.”
He grimaces. “I can’t. I literally cannot find the words to say it, so it’s better if you see it for yourself.”
“You’re making me anxious.”
“No. No!”
He tries to deflate the severity of the situation, but I’m not budging. My arms are folded in front of my chest, tapping my index finger against my forearm. With a raised brow, I wait for an explanation.
“It can be a good surprise, though it depends.”
“Depends on what?”
He uses one hand to scratch the back of his head. “What do you consider a good surprise?”
“Something that makes me happy, fulfilled. or excited.”
“Yeah, not a good surprise, then,”
he groans. “We’re almost there, and let me apologize in advance for not telling you. I completely forgot about it until you asked about my parents; please, believe me.”
“Arlo, whatever-your-last-name-is,”
I hissed. “Tell me right this instant or I’ll jump out of the car.”
“The lock is childproof, so good luck there. And my last name is De Santis.”
“Of course,”
I snorted. “Even your last name is hot.”
The tips of his ears turn pink. “You find me hot?”
My mouth drops open at the realization of my words. I forgot to think before speaking and to filter my words, so it slipped out. My neck heats up, the tips of my fingers as cold as ice.
“No,”
I lie, my voice squeaking.
“It’s okay to admit it, butterfly. Most women find me attractive.”
I scowl at the thought of him ever being with another woman. It pisses me off more than I’m willing to admit.
“Well, I just happen to find you very ugly.”
Arlo pulls up into a gigantic driveway, turns off the engine, and shifts in his seat, looking at me while pouting.
“Words hurt, you know.”
I roll my eyes. “You and your ego will survive.”
He chuckles. “Are you ready?”
I glance out the window, staring at the house. It’s far too big to be called a house; the size is unimaginable. It’s a home a celebrity would have, yet this one is slightly different. Despite being gigantic and made out of the finest materials, it’s still holding some sentiment that resembles a true home.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”