Chapter 5
Notes:
Sorry this chapter is late. My mind wandered and got lost in unfamiliar territory.
Rowan
How did I get here?
Not here here. As in, not here in the passenger seat of this stolen Tesla (“They’re actually pretty easy to steal,” the professional hitman announced) with a guy who may or may not want to kill me but almost definitely did give me one of the most powerful orgasms I’ve ever had. Somehow. With a hand job.
Although I’m sort of wondering about that other part too. One minute I was sticking to my guns, the next I was packing Iggy’s tank and following Milo down the street.
This is more of a life choices thing, though. If I think about it hard enough, I can trace all of this shit back to that fateful moment when a handsome older man at the company I was interning for asked me to stay late one night and I thought him telling me how much he liked me made me special.
My stomach twists whenever I think of it. Seventeen-year-old Rowan was so painfully naive.
Sweet boy. We shouldn’t, but I simply cannot stop thinking about you.
Sweet boy, my freckled ass. What a load of utter horseshit. Never falling for that one again. I’ll take a hit out on myself first.
“Should be just up ahead,” Milo chirps.
Okay. Guess he’s back to being nice to me now. Or, not nice, but…chatty?
I don’t know. This guy’s more than a little quirky. Earlier, he pulled an apple from his backpack and ate the entire thing. Including the core. All I could think was, was that the apple he’d dropped in a puddle of blood? I couldn’t bring myself to ask.
I can’t get my head around any of this night.
Not the way he was calling me a whore in my ear and jerking me off like he had a vendetta, and the whole time I felt more alive than I have in my entire life.
Nor now, when he’s narrating the entire drive (“I heard Lake Jessup has the most alligators in Florida, but actually Lake Okeechobee has more than twice as many…”) as if the hand job, the way we met, and him being assigned to fucking kill me never happened.
Just two guys, on their way to a safe house, for no reason whatsoever. Cool.
“How the hell am I supposed to respond to any of this?”
“What’s that, baby?”
Oh, yeah. Then there’s the fact that he keeps calling me baby. What the hell is that about?
“Never mind.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I grumble under my breath and stare out the window, watching the palm trees and farmland go by.
We’re driving through what I’ve learned is a weird area that’s actually used by a lot of folks for grazing cattle.
And I guess not a whole lot else, because it’s dark as fuck here aside from an occasional other car.
I glance at the back seat, where Iggy’s tank is strapped in. Iggy, like a sleepy little puppy with scales, has been chill this entire time. Probably helpful that it’s late, and he’s usually sleeping now. Aside from a bit of jostling when we put him in the car, he’s been calm.
I envy him.
Even when Milo falls quiet, even when exhaustion threatens to drag my eyelids down, I can’t forget that the person next to me has a loaded gun. A gun he still might use.
“Oh. There’s the turn up ahead. Almost there.” Is it my imagination, or is he talking to me like a bored kid who asked, “Are we there yet?” too many times?
After Tucker, I’m probably being overly sensitive. I hope.
Milo’s hand finds my upper thigh in the dark, patting and then rubbing in lazy circles that bring his long fingers closer and closer to my confused dick. Is he trying to comfort me or turn me on? Both?
“You can stop that, you know.”
His hand pauses its circular motion, but his fingers grip my leg tighter. “Stop what?”
“Acting like we’re fucking boyfriends or something.”
“Funny, I didn’t think I was. Then again, I haven’t dated much. I helped you muscle that fucking baby dinosaur into the back seat, and now we’re driving to a cozy cabin on the lake together. At this point, we might as well open a registry or take someone out together.”
“We’ve only known each other for a few hours.”
“Don’t forget I killed a man for you. Those few hours are like a decade in murder years.”
“You really think I forgot that? What’s wrong with you?” When I turn to look at Milo, the lights of a passing car are caressing his face. He looks calm, wearing a slight smile, elbow propped on the windowsill as if we’re on a relaxing Sunday drive.
What does it take to be the person who seems chill as fuck after shooting a guy in the head and jerking his—what? His mark?—off in the shower?
“So many things, Rowan. My mom smoked while she was pregnant. I took way too many questionable pills back in the day. Accidentally hit a friend’s abusive ex with my car and ended up living a life of crime. Who can say what the trigger was, really?”
“This is ridiculous.”
He flashes me a quick grin as his hand resumes its circular motion on the top of my leg. “Care to be more specific?”
“You’re sitting here talking about us being boyfriends as if all the supremely fucked-up shit that happened tonight was a minor inconvenience. By the way, you still haven’t confirmed for sure that you will not put a bullet in my head.”
“Of course we’re not actually boyfriends, Rowan. Unfortunately, that’s the only thing I can confirm at the moment.”
“Fantastic.” We turn onto a quiet side street and when the house we’re approaching has the lights already on, I sink lower in my seat. “Whose place is this?”
A tall figure emerges from the small house at the end of the drive and for the first time I grab onto the hand on my leg. Honestly though, can you blame me for being jumpy?
“It’s okay, baby. He’s a friend.”
When the man comes closer and the headlights show him more clearly, I realize I know him as well. Brown skin, a friendly smile, and awfully warm eyes for a guy who’s always armed. I’m still reeling when Milo lowers his window, and the guy pops his head in.
“Jalen?” Jalen works for, well, my pimp, I guess. “What’s going on?”
It still feels a little weird that I have one of those. A pimp. Then again, the way Milo kept calling me a whore…
Don’t pretend you didn’t like that.
“New guy. How’s it hanging?”
Milo pats my leg. “Jalen and I go way back. Practically best friends.”
Jalen’s sudden scowl doesn’t quite line that up with the best friends comment, but whatever. “Milo treating you okay, man?” He turns his attention back to Milo. “Remember our agreement.”
“How could I forget?” Milo threads his fingers through mine and holds up our joined hands. “Don’t stress, J-dude. Rowan and I are getting along like a match and gasoline.”
“Funny how that doesn’t exactly fill me with warm and fuzzy feelings.” He pinches Milo’s cheek between his thumb and forefinger. “Remember I know you, bestie. If you break our deal, I’ll be forced to see exactly how well you get along with fire when I douse you in gasoline.”
Milo pretends to clutch his pearls. “I’m honestly wounded.”
“Funny how I don’t care. Come on, guys, the place is already unlocked for you.” Then Jalen turns and leads the way into the house.
I scramble out and wrestle with Iggy’s tank, which Milo comes over to help me with.
The tank isn’t crazy heavy, but with Iggy’s rocks and plants and the tank itself being sort of unwieldy, it’s not super easy. Not as if Milo gave me much advance warning when I packed my stuff.
When Jalen turns back, a look of horror takes over his face. “What the fuck is that thing?”
“Rowan here apparently collects dinosaurs.”
“Shut up,” I snap. Damn, I’m too exhausted for any of this. “Iggy’s a bearded dragon,” I explain to Jalen. “And he’s perfectly tame. I’ve had him for years. He was a gift from my ex.”
Considering the inferiority complex, the fear of rejection, and the estrangement from my family, Iggy’s the only good thing I ever got from Tucker.
Milo narrows his eyes. “You didn’t tell me that part.”
“Didn’t exactly seem relevant seeing as how, again, we’ve only known each other for, like, an hour.”
“It’s been at least a few hours at this point.”
“I don’t see how that makes a difference.”
“How about the fact that I rocked your world better than that client of yours would have?”
My face goes up in flames. I want to shoot back about how making me feel better than that psychopath wasn’t a high bar, except Milo really did turn my knees to Jell-O.
Jalen gives me a curious look. “Didn’t this guy shoot a man in front of you? An hour’s practically a decade in murder years.”
“That’s what I said!” Milo’s exclamation startles Iggy enough that he blinks open his eyes, looks irritated, and then closes them again. “Sorry, little guy,” he adds.
Is this what a fever dream feels like? Clearly, I’m losing it. I can’t allow that warm feeling to spread through me just because this guy was a little nice to my pet.
Right now I need to stay focused on what’s important. Someone or someones is (are? Focus, Rowan) trying to kill me. I’m standing on the porch of what looks like a murder cabin in the middle of the night with my bearded dragon and the hookup who came to off me and—
“Oh my God.” Something suddenly hits me.
A look to my right confirms my fears. A boat dock stretches from the grass to the water, looking rotted and unstable like something straight out of a horror movie in the pale moonlight.
“We’re right on the fucking water. Water that’s chock-full of alligators.
You brought me here to kill me, didn’t you? ”
I turn to Jalen, suddenly lightheaded and frantic. “Will you please take Iggy for me if I die? One of Brennan’s former escorts does stuff with animals, right? Will you make sure he finds a good home?” Wait. Jalen’s wearing holsters. With guns. Plural. “Oh, shit, are you in on it?”
Jalen makes an exaggerated show of taking a slow, deep breath, and then another. Strangely, I do the same thing. Okay, I feel better. A little. Sort of dizzy.
“Good. Now that you seem to have calmed down, no. I’m here to protect Brennan’s interests. Meaning you. Milo has promised to take good care of you, but if you need anything, you can call me or Brennan. Okay?”
“What’s the catch?” These guys seem nice enough, but according to the other escorts, Brennan has been the crime boss of Belle Argo for over a decade. I feel like he doesn’t help for free.
Dean said something about having to suck Brennan off once. Or jerk him off, maybe?
Oh shit, am I going to have to jerk off my pimp? Am I going to have to jerk off Jalen?
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” Milo growls in my ear. “You’re not jerking off anybody but me.”
My gaze snaps to Milo’s laughing eyes. Did I say that out loud?
I don’t know why he sounds so possessive. I don’t know why it makes me shiver the way it does.
“Okay, I’m not touching that one.” Jalen scratches the side of his neck with what looks like a car key. He points a finger at Milo. “Do not make me sorry I helped you.” To me he says, “You’re gonna be okay, buddy.”
Then he slaps a hand on my shoulder and walks away, leaving me standing on the front porch with Milo and Iggy. The only money I have is what I got from Crazy Knife Guy before he tried to mutilate me, and I’m now an hour and a half from home.
In spite of Jalen’s reassurance, my insides feel hollow the way they did when I first walked into Tucker’s house. This is a terrible idea. One I can’t undo.
What in the hell am I supposed to do now?