Chapter 24
Montgomery
A carpet picnic.
That’s what Fleur had called the strange but filling feast we’d shared over a slightly damp towel.
Only we weren’t on the filthy carpet and there was no picnic basket.
Just bags of muffins and cookies, hunks of cheese and potato chips, all items Tilly had provided.
It was food that I would never have thought of choosing, yet once we’d started our strange feast, I’d felt ravenous, devouring every bite.
Fleur had taken to calling our adventure a road trip, which was her way of protecting herself from what was really happening.
“I’m glad to see you eat,” she said in her soft, thoughtful voice. “You enjoyed the food more than I thought you would.”
“And why are saying it like that?”
As soon as she leaned closer, I had the urge to kiss her slightly swollen lips all over again.
She’d managed to surprise me in the shower, something that rarely happened.
I’d allowed my guard to fall when the shield needed to be solid as steel.
I wouldn’t put anything past two fucking groups of Russians forging a revenge-tainted bond.
While I had no idea of how many men each group employed or how many connections they had willing to do their bidding, remaining off the grid was vital to our survival.
Her gesture tentative, she reached out, darting the tip of her finger just under my bottom lip. After being able to focus, I noticed she had a smear of chocolate on her finger. Within thinking, I pulled it into my mouth, sucking with enough pressure my cheeks collapsed.
The silly gesture brought a slight laugh. I’d feared I’d never hear the sound again.
“You are such a bad boy, a startlingly delicious surprise. You even have a sense of humor. And the reason is that you’re a meat and potatoes man. Easy to see.”
When I pulled her finger free, the tiny pop made her eyes go wide. “Oh, you think so, huh?”
“I know so. You can’t fool me with anything.
Filet mignon, extra rare or in the restaurant business you’d call it show it the fire.
A baked potato with a hint of butter and sour cream, but with a lot of bacon bits.
You couldn’t care less about a salad and as far as seafood, you’ll go for a lobster tail as long as it’s perfectly cooked, succulent and juicy.
You don’t know what vegetables are, but pizza will do for breakfast. What I haven’t figured out yet is whether you like Cajun food. ”
“With a grandmother into black magic? How could you ask that question?”
“I love Cajun food. Maybe you’ll consider taking me to the best Cajun restaurant in New Orleans.”
“That would be the family restaurant. Five stars, baby.”
We laughed together until her smile fell and she looked toward the closed drapes.
“I keep forgetting this isn’t an adventure.
We’re not on vacation. We’re not eloping.
We’re not even touring the countryside. We’re hiding.
Speaking of which.” She turned her head to face me, real concern on her face. “Should we hide our identities?”
“You mean more than we already are?”
“Duh. All we did was unplug from the world, nothing more. I’m talking about disguises.”
I had to see where she was going to take this. After all, after being chased, shot at, and almost kidnapped, she’d managed to think of a decent plan in minutes. Well, if I had to be honest, a damn good plan with asking the town for help. “Go on.”
“Um…” She popped off the bed, moving toward the mirror over the dresser. As she toyed with her hair, I fought to hide my amusement. She was taking this very seriously. In a way, I was damn glad. That meant she’d wouldn’t forget danger lurked in shadows.
“I know we don’t have much money, but we could certainly pop into a drugstore and purchase some Clairol.”
“Clairol?”
She shifted her eyes toward me, the reflection highlighting her furrowed brow. “Hair color usually for women, but men use it too.” When I looked at her quizzically, I was rewarded with another roll of her eyes. “That’s right. You likely haven’t been in a drug store your entire life. Have you?”
“I’ll have you know I shop there all the time.”
“Which drug store?” My hesitation seemed to make her extremely happy. “Gotcha. Anyway, I could use a little paint and body work. So could you.”
“Paint and body work?”
“You really are an old man. Aren’t you?” She winked. “I’m talking about coloring our hair. A little touch since yours is naturally the perfect shade of ebony, but I can try and lighten the shades. Or I can give you a buzz cut.” She wrinkled her nose this time. “On second thought. No buzz cut.”
“Well, thank God we agree on something. We’re not going to be on the run for months or even weeks.”
“No, but if they’re using the dark web to hire assassins then I assure you a few of the gunmen use techniques like a bounty hunter would.”
“Such as?”
She spun around, folding her arms and giving me the look a teacher would after admonishing one of her students.
“There are cameras everywhere. They’re in stores and in parking lots, on traffic signals.
If the right camera captures a picture of you or the two of us and input to a national system for any reason, the location can be identified. ”
“You have me curious as to how you know this?”
She shrugged, another wrinkle in her nose causing a typical reaction in my body. If the lady didn’t watch out, I’d fuck her like a wild animal all over again. “I watch a lot of true crime. You’d be surprised what you can pick up on the shows. You might learn a few things.”
A part of me continued to be fascinated by her constant chutzpa. She had no problem saying what was on her mind. “How about this. Let’s not go to the huge effort. Why don’t we grab a couple of baseball caps tomorrow? That’s one thing your friends didn’t think of.”
“Baseball caps?”
“My guess is you’ll look sexy as hell in one.”
The evil eye she gave me did more than give me another wave of amusement. My balls were tight. She shooed me off the bed, muttering under her breath as she began to gather the dinner items.
I stood by the window, casually glancing outside toward the bank of trees flanking the cheesy motel. My weapon remained on the small, scarred table and every so often, she darted her eyes toward the Beretta. I wasn’t certain if she was reminding herself of the danger or enthralled by it.
The woman continued to surprise me, which was a rare feat.
“Do you think they’ll find us?” She stopped in mid-action, her back heaving after asking the question.
“Not unless we do something stupid.”
“Good to know. Very good.”
After almost lovingly wrapping our precious supply of food, she grabbed the duffle I’d taken from Danny’s room.
Now she sat cross-legged in the center of the bed, staring at it as if fearful of what she’d find.
This was her private moment, one she deserved to have, but I had no intention of leaving her alone.
She took several deep breaths, slowly unzipping, but it took her almost two full minutes to pull the two edges apart.
There was another hesitation before she reached inside.
One by one she pulled the contents onto the comforter, taking her time to pick through the items. When she reached the bottom, she stiffened before she pulled a weapon into her hand.
As strange as it might seem to others, when she pulled the gun to her chest, I sensed her loss even more than before. She was finding her own way of accepting his death. Who the fuck was I to interfere?
“There’s nothing here. Nothing that could possibly tell me what he was trying to warn me against.”
Sighing, I allowed the curtains to close. “I’m sorry, Fleur. What I know about a situation like this is that for men in our positions, it’s much better not to keep anything in writing.”
“He was worried that whatever he wanted to share would be found.”
“Absolutely. Betrayal of any kind…” I didn’t bother finish the sentence. I could tell by the way she looked into my eyes that she knew what I’d almost said.
Nodding, she pulled a shirt to her face, closing her eyes. I couldn’t help but notice the way her eyelashes skimmed across her cheeks. Even in the gloomy lighting of the cramped room, the illumination was beautiful.
As was the rest of her.
I was invading a very private moment, which forced me to lay claim to the emotions I hadn’t experienced with my father.
While my mother had tried so very hard to remain stoic, a positive and strong force in the family after our loss, I’d held her more than once.
The fact she’d sobbed in my arms hadn’t brought my own despair, instead continued rage that right now I was forced to realize had never dissipated.
Over a year later and I was still an angry man hungering for revenge.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so difficult.”
The sadness in her voice tugged at everything decent inside of me. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You didn’t know me.”
“I guess I still don’t. But you don’t know me either.”
“Other than that you’re a gypsy at heart with a true belief in black magic and you’re a fiend for brownies, what else do I need? I’ll toss in my guess that you believe in fairies and Santa Claus too.” My attempt at a joke was met with a curious look on her face.
The short laugh she offered was forced, but I’d take it anyway. “And you’re a grouchy man who has no understanding of real emotions. You keep yourself closed off to protect yourself and the people you care about. But I also need to add you should always wear jeans instead of a suit.”
Even when she was despondent, she had a filtered view of the world, permanent rose-colored glasses attached to her pretty face. If only I had that outlook on life. “And why is that?”
“Because jeans make you look hot.” She slowly turned her head, her hair hanging in her face, but the smile she carried was enchanting as fuck.
Of course, my cock was aching all over again.
The red blotches on her face returned, but she forced herself to look away.