Chapter Nineteen #2
“Yeah.” Drea looked behind them. “There are no other cars with him. I have no clue if the governor gets a security detail. Do you?”
“No idea, but my guess would be yes,” Cujo answered.
“So what’s he doing in the middle of nowhere, weeks ahead of the election?”
“The obvious answer would be that the whole of Florida votes. Not just the big cities. He probably has voters to schmooze and babies to kiss … but with everything else that’s going on, I honestly don’t know.”
“Stay behind him, Cujo. Let’s see where he goes.”
“Really?” he asked, as he put his foot down anyway. “I wanted to get back to the cottage and see if your idea of a nap and mine are the same.”
“Follow the governor and I’ll make sure they are,” Drea replied, taking out her phone and snapping a picture.
“Does your idea of a nap have you on all fours while I—”
“Focus.” She laughed, rubbing her hand over the bulge in his jeans. She leaned across and whispered in his ear. “If you keep up with him, you can take me any way you want.”
“Fuck.” Cujo squirmed in his seat. “Let’s hope he stops soon before my dick explodes.”
They trailed him for another mile until he pulled into the lot of an old information center. Cujo followed, parking in a sheltered area where they could still see the governor’s car.
“Slump down in your seat,” Drea said.
Why?”
“Just do it.” She smacked his arm.
“For the love of … fine.” Cujo slid down. “This is fucking ridiculous. You get that, right?”
Drea took another photograph.
“What are you doing?” Cujo asked.
“Evidence.”
“Of what, him parking his car?”
“I don’t know.” Zero security. Crappy old car. Isolated location. Something didn’t add up.
A black Lincoln Navigator turned in front of the truck, coming to rest alongside the governor’s car. A rotund man got out. The hallway of the hotel. Drea immediately recognized him. “He was the security guy outside Henderson’s room when I took room service up.”
“Wait,” Cujo whispered. “When did you take room service to them?”
Damn. She hadn’t told him.
“It was the night Mom died,” she replied quietly. When he’d not been there.
Cujo took her hand, then pulled it to his lips.
Security guy handed Jacobs a brown envelope. He opened it, thumbing through the contents. Money? Documents? They were too far away to see.
Drea snapped more photographs. Security guy turned their way, shielding his sunglass-covered eyes.
Cujo pulled her hand down. “The sun must be reflecting on it,” he said.
Now walking toward them, he gestured to the governor to get back in his car.
“Fuck.” Cujo sat up. The truck revved, sending gravel spitting out behind them as he careened onto the road. He looked back in the rearview mirror. “He might have caught the plates.”
“Oh shit.”
“Yeah. What kind of trouble have you got us into now, Velma?”
* * *
Cujo loaded the last of their belongings into the truck. He secured the paddleboards, checking the bungee cords one last time. He pulled the cover over and tightened everything down.
Dark clouds loomed on the horizon. Bad weather was coming, and Cujo wanted to be out ahead of the storm. Two hours of driving in torrential rain was not his idea of fun.
Drea was inside, emailing the photographs of the governor to Detective Carter.
They’d decided that oversharing to the point of appearing paranoid was better than keeping information back that may prove crucial.
He’d left her typing the message, but the territorial part of him wanted to take the phone from her hands and read what she had written to him.
Fucking, Carter. It didn’t help that the guy was a good cop. He wanted to hate him.
Just as he was about to go and chase her out, Drea walked down the steps, dragging her fingertips along the smooth handrail.
Her hair was tied in a messy knot, and she was wearing his red flannel shirt over a white T-shirt and tiny denim shorts.
Sexy as fuck. At the bottom, she turned to look back at the cottage.
He approached her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I’ll miss this place,” he said before kissing the side of her neck. She smelled so good, and he thought back to earlier that morning. They’d nearly broken the tiny shower, but who knew Drea’s legs were so flexible.
She leaned back against him, putting her hands over his. “Me, too. It was good for us.”
It had been. They talked at length of inconsequential things, like the Heat’s chances of winning another title without LeBron, and heart-wrenchingly important things, like Drea’s therapy.
She’d shared deeply personal pieces of what she’d learned about herself.
He’d told her about his fears of never becoming a father, something he’d only just admitted to himself.
Perhaps it was time to face that fear head-on, put his big-boy pants on, and get tested.
She turned in his arms, rose up on her toes, and kissed him quickly. A smile so vibrant it was contagious graced her features. The excitement of a future with this woman swept through him.
“Thank you for arranging this,” she said.
He kissed her again, just as large drops of rain started to pelt them. She wiggled against him, but he held her there, their lips locked firmly together. The rain started to fall harder.
Drea squealed and pulled away, looking up at the sky. Cujo laughed, took her hand, and raced for the truck. He helped her in before he ran to the driver’s side.
The sound of Drea’s giggles filled the cab as she tugged her wet T-shirt away from her chest. It was impossible to imagine any other woman filling his life with that kind of music.
“I love you, Drea.” He leaned across and brushed his lips against hers.
“I love you, too, Brody,” she whispered.
Yeah. We’re better than fucking good. He started the truck and pulled onto the side road that led to the highway.
The rain pounded on the roof of the cab, and Cujo fiddled with the air conditioning to demist the windows.
“The idea of going back to the real world kinda sucks,” Drea said, turning in her seat to face him.
“Yeah. I need to go and see Mom.” The time away had given him a chance to think. He just had to think of Evelyn as someone he’d never met before. It wasn’t the relationship he wanted with his mom, but it was better than none at all.
“I think I’d like to go and see her again, if you wouldn’t mind. I mean, I don’t know if she’ll want to see me, but if she does…”
Her words were confusing. “Why would she not want to see you?”
“Because I didn’t help. Because it’s my fault she’s there. But I’d like to apologize if I can.”
“Drea, you need to get over that. There is absolutely nothing you could have done against two men with guns. Except maybe get yourself killed.”
He heard Drea sigh, and saw the way she bit the side of her finger. He reached across and took hold of her hand. “I’m serious. She’s relieved you persisted in trying to figure out who she was.”
“I hope that’s true.”
He reached over and squeezed her thigh. “It is. And don’t worry, Carter made sure to tell her how hard you tried to solve the case.”
Drea laughed. “Jealous much?”
“Yup. Unapologetically jealous when it comes to my sexy-as-fuck girlfriend and a good-looking guy in uniform.”
Drea patted his hand. “He’s not you, Brody. You know that, right?”
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “Doesn’t stop him trying to be, Drea, but yeah, I know.”
It started to brighten as they closed the distance to Miami. Drea dozed and Cujo hummed along to the radio.
Just outside of Sweetwater, Cujo pulled over. The truck was low on gas. He filled the tank, and when he returned from paying, he found Drea awake and stretching. That woman rocked a T-shirt like no other. “Nice view.”
Drea laughed as they set off for the city.
His phone rang. It was Devon. “Yo, bro. What’s up?”
“You need to get to the hospital.” In the background, he could hear a door slam and a car engine start.
Cujo pressed his foot to the floor. “What happened?”
“It’s Mom,” Devon replied. “She got her memory back.”