12
Notes:
Sorry this chapter is late. I went to visit Yellowstone during the “bison rut” and got caught in a “bison jam.” Let’s just say I’m lucky I made it out alive.
Rowan
I wake up in the dark, alone. Something feels off. I’d like to believe it’s because I’m in a strange place, and not that Milo isn’t next to me.
Each time I’ve fallen asleep in this damn cabin he’s been right beside me. Only to be gone by the time I wake. There’s an anxious racing in under my sternum, and a familiar pang of abandonment knotting my stomach.
My hands are sliding around, feeling the cool sheets for any trace of him, even as I tell myself there’s no point. I can sense the emptiness of the room.
I know it’s only sex between us, but why does he keep leaving? I mean…he’s supposed to be protecting me. Doesn’t he need to be near me for that?
Since I haven’t slept in a bed with someone else since I was a kid, that shouldn’t matter at all. It shouldn’t matter that when we fell asleep, Milo and I were nose to nose as if we were something more to each other than a deal.
And if my skin feels all tingly when I remember the things he did to me earlier, well, that’s probably because it was a novel experience and everything. New experiences are exciting, especially when they’re fun.
That’s what it was. Fun.
I’ve never had that kind of sex before. Surely, one day, I’ll have it with someone else.
Hmm.
A shadowy silhouette in the doorway freezes me in place. My racing heart races faster. I’m trying to decide if it’s better to stay put or move when I realize it’s Milo.
“Are you awake?” he whispers.
“I am now.” Hopefully, my attitude covers the fact that I woke up wondering why he’d left me.
“Good.” Something lands in my lap. My duffel bag. “Take this. We have to go.”
“Go?” We just got here. “Where?”
“Out the front door. Someone’s here. They’re trying to get in through the back.”
“Oh. Shit.” I scramble out of bed, groping for my sleep pants and pulling them on. “I have to get Iggy.”
“This is not the time to get your lizard child.” His harsh whisper gives me the shivers. “We can come back for him, but we have to get out of here.”
Fuck no. I’ve seen that documentary about all the pets that got left after the Chernobyl disaster. “I’m not leaving him.”
Milo mutters something under his breath. “Hurry, or I’m using you as a shield.”
“Fine. Dick.” I pull on a hoodie to ward against the chilly night and silently apologize to a sleepy Iggy as I pull him out of his tank and snuggle him under my shirt.
I’ve got him cradled in one hand and my duffel slung over one shoulder, awkwardly trying to shove my feet into my shoes as I walk.
I could swear I hear a scraping sound at the back door.
It takes everything in me not to turn around as Milo ushers me out the front.
Cold seeps into my skin when we get outside, despite my layers. I’m colder still when Milo presses something metal into my hand. “Here. Just in case.”
“I don’t know how to shoot.” The gun feels heavy and awkward. My palm’s all sweaty in spite of the cold.
The sight of it in my hand makes me queasy. What do I even do with this?
“Hopefully, you won’t need to. But, Rowan, I need to go back in there. We don’t know how many there are. I’m not leaving you out here unprotected. Here.” He positions my hand, showing me the right way to hold the gun. “Don’t put your finger on the trigger unless you’re actually planning to shoot.”
“Why can’t I stay with you?” I’m disgusted by how needy I sound. Was I like this with Tucker? I don’t think so.
If I didn’t have a gun in my hand and the other on Iggy, I’d probably be clutching at his shirt like some kind of swooning maiden. Fuck, I should bust inside and let those guys shoot me. Either way, I’m screwed.
Milo gestures to shadows moving across a window. “Someone’s in there. Someone who is undoubtedly armed. I’d rather have a wall between you and them.”
“What about you?”
He gives me a patient look. “Rowan, I’ve done this before.”
“Right. Right. Just…” It feels stupid, but I say it anyway. “Be careful.”
“Always am.” Then he disappears back inside, leaving me cuddling a bearded dragon and awkwardly holding a weapon I don’t want.
Probably, I won’t need to use it. I don’t want to. I press myself farther into the shadows against the side of the house, looking at the thing in the light of the half-moon up above. It’s a dull sort of pewter color, and there’s an attachment on the end—on the muzzle?—that must be a silencer.
Which makes me feel even weirder. I know Milo kills people. I’m pretty sure Jaylen does too. It’s not exactly a foreign concept, more like… There’s something serious looking about this gun. Knowing it’s Milo’s, that he handed it to me for protection…
It’s intense and sort of terrifying, but also sweet, I think? That’s nuts, right? It’s definitely nuts.
Tugging the zipper of my hoodie up, I check to make sure Iggy’s comfortable against me. He wiggles some, his little nails scratching against me as he settles and tries to go back to sleep.
“Honestly, I’m jealous,” I tell him in a whisper.
I’d love for this to all be a bad dream. When I fell asleep, a guy who had given me the best orgasms of my life had me wrapped in his arms, and now I’m standing out in the cold holding a gun. A gun.
First a whore, and now a whore with a gun he doesn’t know how to use. “My mother would die, Iggy. This would absolutely kill her.”
Such a good whore.
Okay, this is not the time to think of the things Milo said to me in bed. Or on the floor. In the shower…
Iggy little head pokes out of my hoodie. He blinks and flicks his tongue, oblivious to my crisis.
A series of thumps and shouts comes from inside the cabin. A flash of light and the boom of a gunshot. From Milo’s gun or the other guy’s?
My heart is a washing machine with an unbalanced load. I want to check on Milo, but he told me to stay out here. I’m not even sure I can move my feet.
But what if he’s dead?
If he’s dead, you shouldn’t go back in there.
Then what do I do? Run? We drove a stolen car here. Milo used some special key to start it, and I don’t know where that went. I can only go so fast while I’m carrying Iggy.
A flash of light interrupts my spiral near the side of the house.
Someone dressed in head to toe black, holding a gun in one hand and a flashlight in the other.
Before I can think, I raise the gun in my hand.
My first shot startles him but misses. The second shot seems to get him in the side.
He’s still alive, but he drops his weapon when he grabs his side.
Iggy twitches under my hoodie, and I belatedly put a shaking hand over his head.
Even with the silencer, the gun isn’t actually silent, and he’s sensitive to noise and vibrations.
Oh. God. “Iggy, I shot someone,” I whisper.
I can’t believe it. I fucking shot someone.
My whole arm is vibrating so much I’m not sure I can aim again. When I force myself to try, there’s a sound to my right and he suddenly slumps to the ground.
My brain can’t process anything beyond someone’s coming. I make myself lift the gun and shoot again. There’s a quiet “oof” before the shadowy figure steps into the light.
When I see Milo standing there, the relief almost makes me collapse. Until I realize he’s got a limp. And his leg is bleeding. Oh no.
I think I’m going to be sick.
“Two goddamn hit men on the property and who shoots me in the leg? The guy whose life I saved. Nice.”
Oh, this is bad. So, so bad. “Shit. Sorry. I wasn’t sure ab—are you okay?”
He limps over to check the body, casting a dark look over his shoulder. “What the hell kind of question is that? Honestly, I’ve been better. Thank fuck you only grazed me.”
“I really am sorry. What do we do? Shit, we need to get you to a hospital.”
There’s an edge of panic in my voice. I can’t tamp it down, even knowing I need to. I’ve shot the guy who’s supposed to be protecting me, and if he decides I’m not worth the trouble?
Well, I’m not stupid. I know what happens then.
“Great idea. While we’re at it, we’ll stop by the police station, let them know about the two bodies on the premises to make things easy for them.”
Wait he’s not…he’s not serious. Right? No, he can’t be. “Okay. Sorry. Fuck.”
All this apologizing makes me feel about two inches tall. Old habits.
He takes a breath before adding, “Any hospital would have to report a bullet wound. We could lie about what happened, but I’m not taking that risk.” The way he rolls his eyes makes me feel a whole lot less sorry than I did a minute ago.
Dick. “How the hell am I supposed to know? This is my first time dealing with anything like this.”
Milo nods, looking pained but less angry. “I get that. And I wish we had time for you to freak out properly, but we don’t. We need to get rid of these bodies. Put Iggy back in his glass box for a minute and help me get these guys down to the lake.”
Jesus. “You’re serious?” Bile rises in my throat as I take in the guy on the ground. Those wide-open, unseeing eyes bring back the mess in that hotel room with the other guy I saw Milo kill. I haven’t really been able to properly lose my shit about that, either. “I don’t think I can do that.”
He gestures to the dead guy lying in the grass. “What do you think we’re going to do, leave him for a neighbor to spot in the morning?”
Right. I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it. “I guess not.”
Still, as much as I try to make my feet move, they refuse.
Milo’s expression softens then. He comes over, running a gloved hand along the side of my face. It’s oddly comforting, despite me knowing he’s probably wearing them so his fingerprints won’t get on any of the bodies or whatever.
“Look at me, Rowan. You can handle this. Sometimes you have to do what you have to do, and this is one of those times. You handled that crazy motherfucker trying to kill you at the hotel, you can handle this.”
Have I though? “O-okay.”
All at once Milo’s expression hardens again. So fast it gives me whiplash. “And you damn well better not slow me down or I can’t promise to keep you safe. So save all this shit for therapy.”
Can I really do that? Because one person trying to kill you is a wild story you tell your therapist someday. Or maybe a friend after a few beers. It’s scary, but it’s a fluke. This? This is not a fluke.
“Fine. Right. You’re right.” I take a painful gulp of air. “I can handle this.”
No part of me believes that right now. But what choice do I have?
“Good.” He hands me a pair of gloves. “Put these on. We need to get this done and then get the hell out of here before someone shows up.”
I rush back inside, nearly tripping over a guy sprawled on his back in my rush to return Iggy to his tank. There’s blood blooming across his chest. Jesus.
My stomach heaves. Again. And again I’m fighting to keep the contents down.
My hand holding onto Iggy is the only reason I’m able to stay upright.
As the reality of this entire night slams me from the side, my legs are refusing to hold my weight.
If I fall, I could hurt Iggy. It’s what my brain clings to as I force my feet to move.
As I try to breathe past the dizziness tipping the room sideways.
One day, about a year and a half ago, I woke up in bed after a visit from Tucker. He’d shown up, fucked me, and then retreated to his office to take some calls before leaving again. Without saying goodbye.
It was the lowest I’d ever felt. I’d wondered then if life could get any worse.
Now I wish I hadn’t wondered.