Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
Kieran
It was official. I had lost my damn mind.
All my good senses went right down the drain with all the water and dirt from the plants Hazard had plunked right into my kitchen sink.
Cliff and Atlas.
Who the fuck named plants?
I heard what he told them, standing there in the sunshine in my living room, hugging two droopy, brown-tinged pots of leaves like they were his new best friends. As if their battle to live moved him.
Those who cling to life defy death.
Those whispered words hit me profoundly, shifting something inside me I had yet to understand. Wasn’t that the way with him, though? Making me do and say all kinds of things I never thought I would. I checked myself for that fever. I didn’t have one.
That meant this was all him.
I glanced toward the grungy building he’d disappeared into right after he kissed my cheek. The sweet, innocent gesture flipped me upside down. He’d run off like it had been nothing at all while I sat here and wondered if everything I’d believed was somehow a lie.
Deep down, I knew it wasn’t. Life had taught me otherwise. Peculiar, though, how a set of mismatched eyes and a kiss on the cheek could make me question it all.
My cell vibrated against my leg, and I pulled it out to glance at the screen. The number wasn’t familiar, but they never were. In my business, untraceable numbers were pretty much standard, which made answering the phone sort of like a game of Russian roulette.
I wasn’t in the mood today. I had more important things to deal with. I hit the reject button to silence the call. I had told myself I would take a few weeks off until my next job, and now I had even more reason to do so.
The reason? Currently rushing out of a building he had no business living in to begin with.
There was an orange beanie pulled down over his hair.
An excuse not to comb it. He’d exchanged his filthy jeans for clean ones that looked similar to the previous pair, faded and fraying at the hem.
They were loose, which made me think about how he’d said he didn’t eat breakfast.
His sneakers were scuffed but otherwise adequate, and he had on a long-sleeved black T-shirt with a logo for the Neon Reef on the chest. It was in—wait for it—neon coloring.
He stepped off the curb to walk around the front of the SUV without even so much as a glance at the street. He pulled open the passenger door just as a car barreled down the street. The obnoxious blare of the horn as it whizzed around set my back teeth on edge.
Haz didn’t seem to notice he’d almost been mowed down, climbing inside.
“You need to watch where you’re going,” I snapped, my heart beating too fast.
He said nothing as if he hadn’t even heard me yell.
“Where’s your coat?” I grumped.
“Who knows?” he muttered, voice off.
I rotated at the waist to face him, noting the lack of color in his cheeks and the way his eyes darted around on the street like he expected someone to leap out of the shadows.
His behavior was suspicious and put me on edge. “What’s wrong with you?”
He flinched. “W-what? N-nothing.” He lied. “W-why would something be wrong?”
I could smell it on him. The anxiety. No. Not anxiety. That was always clinging to him. This was different.
Fear.
“What happened upstairs?” I demanded, suddenly looking around like he’d just been. Was someone giving him trouble?
He stiffened, body so tense he practically vibrated. “Why would you think something happened?”
“You’re different than you were before.”
His leg started bouncing. Fingers tapped on the door. “I’m just really worried I’m going to get fired. I’m really late.”
“Do not lie to me.”
“I’m not!” he shouted. “Geez. I’ll just walk,” he said, flinging open the door.
I hit the gas and pulled away from the curb. He gasped and slammed the door shut, turning his whole body to glare at me.
I didn’t feel bad that his cheeks were even whiter than before. “I told you I would drive.”
He said nothing.
“Address,” I barked.
He gave me the street and pointed in the direction of the fish shop.
“I know it,” I told him. “I’m familiar with this city.”
He was quiet a heartbeat, then asked, “Because of your job?”
I stole a quick glance, noting the curiosity on his face. Not even what was bothering him could prevent him from asking.
I thought back to last night when I’d said I wanted to keep him and he told me he could be a killer. If only he knew.
“Yes,” I replied.
“What do you do?”
“I own some real estate.”
“Makes sense why you would need to know the city.”
It wasn’t a lie. I did own real estate. I bought it as a cover for my real job.
“If you weren’t so rich, I would have guessed you were some sort of military.”
Startled, I glanced in his direction. “What makes you think that?”
Haz shrugged, relaxing back into the seat. “You’re very disciplined.”
“Are you calling me bossy again?” My voice was dry.
“It’s more than that,” he said. “There isn’t anything out of place in your apartment. You were annoyed when I got dirt on the floor, nearly stroked out when I put plants in the sink.”
I choked. “I did not stroke out.”
“Be careful. You’re on the verge of doing it again,” Haz teased.
No one ever teased me.
“Your clothes are too nice to be casual, and the way you move…”
“The way I move?”
He made a small noise. “Yeah, confident, controlled. But graceful too. You catch me every time I’ve fallen, which means you have fast reflexes, and you’re strong. You pick me up with barely any effort.”
“You’re not very big,” I pointed out.
He’s also very observant.
“But as far as I know, most military don’t have as much money as you.”
“Maybe it’s inherited.”
Hazard tilted his head. “Is it?”
“No.”
We fell quiet. The urge to speak bubbling inside me warred with the urge to suppress it. I wasn’t a talker. A sharer. I was a keep-it-to-yourself loner. But his curiosity was far better than whatever had been bothering him before.
The Neon Reef came into view, the neon signage matching the logo across his shirt. I was barely at a stop before he was unlatching the door.
“I used to be,” I told him.
Haz turned away from the door, his full attention mine. That war raging inside me quieted. “I was enlisted a long time ago. I was injured and discharged.”
His eyes were so expressive. Brimming over with inquisitiveness, empathy, and life. “You got hurt? Are you okay?”
I nodded. “It was a long time ago. The wounds have healed.”
The physical ones anyway.
My phone started ringing again. Haz looked down at the cell that I’d dropped in the cup holder between us. “Aren’t you going to get that?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m with you right now.”
His lips curled in, shyness evident in his averted eyes.
God, he’s cute.
The phone stopped ringing, and I handed it to him. “Put your number in.”
As he was doing it, he said, “This is my number, but you can’t call it right now.”
“Why the hell not?” I demanded. How dare he tell me no?
“Because I’m out of minutes. I won’t be able to pick up.”
He’d said something like that before, at the hospital. “You need to get more minutes.”
“I will. Next week when I get paid.”
Was he insane? He lived in a terrible neighborhood. What if he needed to call for help?
“You can’t go around the rest of the week without a phone. It’s dangerous.” Something about my words spiked the air. Whatever he’d been upset about when getting into the car was back, tenfold.
“Thanks for the ride,” he said, dropping my phone back into the cup holder.
“Hazard.”
His back stiffened, but this time he didn’t turn around.
“At least let me give you my number. If you need me, call,” I said.
“I won’t,” he said, getting out and closing the door between us. I called his name again, and I did not miss the brief flash of hesitation crossing his face.
But then it was gone, and he was too, retreating into the place he worked, away from me.
Briefly, I considered going in after him but talked myself out of it. I needed space to get my thoughts together, and clearly, so did he.
But later, when I saw him, there would be no more space.