14
Notes:
Sorry this chapter is late. I found a spider in my shower and had to burn down my house.
Rowan
For all Milo acted as if coming to brunch was a massive pain in his ass, you wouldn’t know it now.
In the few months I’ve been working as an escort, everyone has been nothing but friendly to me here, and I enjoy coming.
Still, my shyness and the noise make me more content to hang out and let the conversation wash over me.
Meanwhile, Milo’s chatting with everyone as if he’s their new best friend. Of course he is.
All I can think of is the night he found me in that hotel room. How easy it must have been for him to sneak into that room unnoticed. How many murders has he gotten away with simply because he blends in with the crowd so easily?
Since the question puts me off my breakfast, I try to focus on the surrounding conversation. This week there’s chatter about another one of the guys, Christian, who hasn’t been showing up because of something with an ex of his. Some guys are worried about him.
Adam, Wes, and Troy are nearby, bickering among themselves about what they’re all going to order.
Seems odd considering the spread I saw them offering at their bed and breakfast. I’ll admit I’m curious about them, since I’ve never met a throuple before.
Troy’s already caught me staring, but all he did was wink.
“So, tell me about this bet,” Milo murmurs in my ear.
The heat of his minty breath on my skin sends a shiver down my spine. The worst part is how I want to lean toward him. I’m craving the feel of his lips on my skin. I force myself to pull away, telling myself it’s just the air conditioning overhead.
“Down there.” I nod to the other end of the table. “The guy with the shaved head and the septum piercing? That’s Gabe. Apparently, he and his brother both came from a religious cult or something.”
Not that you’d know it to look at him now.
“What’s the bet, then?” Another puff of air against my neck. Another shiver. Dammit.
“E-everyone thinks Gabe is secretly hooking up with someone.” Get it together, Rowan.
“Apparently he acts skittish when people ask him anything about his personal life.” I manage a shrug even though the proximity of Milo’s lips to my skin is making me crazy.
“My bet is actually that he isn’t, though.
I think it’s the way he was raised, is all.
” I turn, practically meeting Milo’s lips with mine.
“Uh, anyway. I think this group is just nosy as hell. Even escorts are romantics, I guess.”
There’s a pang in my stomach at that thought though. For Gabe, and also for myself. Living in isolation…it’s no good for anyone.
And romance? Tucker and I had nothing resembling a traditional relationship, but he was affectionate with me when he visited, and I miss that.
Milo’s had his hand on my upper thigh since we got here, and I’m afraid to think it’s anything more than Milo being Milo.
He’s touching me more than I expected, but I know better than to read into it.
“Hey. What’s the story with you two, then?” The question comes from PJ, who’s somehow related to one of the guys Milo and I are staying with. PJ and his older boyfriend seem to have kind of a Dom/sub relationship, and I guess PJ’s the one in charge?
Guess I can’t really blame PJ for being curious about me and Milo, since I’m curious about him as well. Especially when I’ve never brought someone to brunch before.
Still, I’m not sure how to answer, so I ask, “What do you mean?”
As soon as I’ve asked I kind of want to slap myself in the face. What a dumb answer.
PJ doesn’t seem deterred. “Like, are you guys dating or something?”
“Uh…”
We’re not dating. He’s keeping me alive. Because someone wants me dead. Also, I’m paying him with sex.
“Absolutely,” Milo says with a grin. He slaps his hand on my leg again, this time squeezing my upper thigh and rubbing up and down in a way that’s both proprietary and arousing. “Hasn’t been long, but when you know, you know, right?”
My muscles tense under his hand.
We’re what now?
He’s kidding. He’s got to be kidding.
Because what the—Mr. Don’t Slow Me Down is suddenly acting like we’re boyfriends?
I’m too stunned to speak, but PJ only grins. “Hell yeah. I practically fell in love with this one on our first date.” He hooks an arm around his boyfriend and tugs him close.
“You did not,” his boyfriend says affectionately.
PJ nudges him with his shoulder. “Did too.”
While they’re going back and forth about who loved who first, I pick at my fruit and granola parfait. When we got here, I wasn’t as hungry as I thought I’d be. Apparently mimosas aren’t the distraction from someone trying to kill me I’d hoped.
But now the savory smells of onion and potato coming from Milo’s giant breakfast burrito have me wishing I’d ordered something more substantial.
As if he can read my thoughts, Milo slides a plate my way with half a breakfast burrito on it. he grins and winks again when I raise an eyebrow to question him, and that wink melts me in a way it shouldn’t.
A few years of getting nothing but crumbs from Tucker and I’m practically willing to hand over my heart to the first guy who’s even the littlest bit kind? A guy who was hired to kill me, no less.
Jesus, I’m fucked up.
“You okay?” Milo asks quietly.
“Fine.” But the lie makes my throat tight. “It’s just been a lot.”
“You’re not wrong.” This time when his hand squeezes my leg, even though I shouldn’t, I put mine on top of his.
“Thanks for the burrito.”
“You’re welcome.” He nudges me. “Big guy like you needs more than a fruit cup, for fuck’s sake.”
The fluttering in my chest is way too much to analyze right now, so I focus on the burrito in front of me. My stomach growls, reminding me I’m hungry after all.
If Tucker were here, he’d have probably given me a gentle reminder not to “overindulge,” but fuck him. I finish every bite.
By the time we leave, everyone’s in love with Milo, which only makes the funny feelings in my chest intensify. Everyone’s slapping him on the back and saying they’ll see him next time.
Which they won’t. Because hopefully we’ll be able to work out that someone being after me is nothing but a big misunderstanding, and then Milo will be gone.
Which is fine. It’s good, even. I’ve been single for all of four months. I don’t need a relationship right now. What I need is to get to know myself. Go see my family. Maybe go back to school like I always wanted.
Despite my insistence to the contrary, I spend the drive back to the bed and breakfast wallowing in my feelings about how things might be different if I could’ve met Milo at another time.
It’s too bad, that’s all. The sex is so good. But I kind of swore off love after Tucker. And, well, Milo kills people.
All this to say, I’m not really paying attention to what else is going on around us. Not until Milo hits the brakes and makes a sudden turn.
“What’s wrong?”
He doesn’t answer, but something is. He’s got his jaw set and a grim expression.
“Milo?”
“I thought someone was following us. Took a turn to see. Give me a second. I don’t see them now.”
Oh. Fuck. I turn to look behind us, but it’s not like I’d see anything out of the ordinary. I haven’t been paying attention. My heart races and my stomach twists, but: “I don’t see anything.”
Milo shakes his head. “I don’t see them now.” He gets back on the road to the bed and breakfast, giving me a reassuring smile. “Might be nothing. Paranoia’s a hazard of the job.”
“It’s okay. We’re both on edge.” This morning I almost shot into the air when Adam knocked on our door to remind us about brunch. Right now, anyone would be jumping at shadows.
Just when I’ve turned back around, there’s a crunch, and a thud as someone hits us from behind.
“Dammit.” Milo shakes his head. “Guess I spoke too soon.”
I turn to try to see who’s behind us.
“Eyes forward.” Milo says tightly, “Seat belts don’t work as well when you’re not sitting properly. Don’t worry; I’ve got this. This guy’s a fucking amateur.”
“How do you know that?”
“Trying to run us off the road? Dumb as hell. Watch this…”
He doesn’t finish, and when I’m about to ask, he hits the gas. Hard. Behind us, the other car speeds up too. Yeah, I look. Of course I do.
Milo speeds up hard for a few seconds before throwing his arm across my chest like it’s a bar on a roller coaster. Then he hits the brakes and jerks the wheel.
Oh God. I wrap my arms around my waist as if I have the power to hold the contents of my stomach in.
We wind up thumping and bumping through a field, rolling to a haphazard stop. Meanwhile, the car that rear-ended us is frantically making a U-turn in the middle of the road.
“What are you doing? Shouldn’t we keep going?”
Milo shakes his head, and before I can ask more questions, he throws the door open and jumps out. Where the hell did the gun come from? I have no reason to be surprised. He seems to have a lot of them.
“I wanted to disorient them,” Milo calls. “But he’ll keep coming if he doesn’t die.”
He’ll keep coming if he doesn’t die. How is this my life right now? When I was eight I saw my cousin steal a toy in a store and didn’t say anything. Is this my karma?
“Milo!” The car is barreling toward us right now. Right fucking toward us.
No. Toward him.
“Get out of the car and get back. As far as you can,” Milo calls. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
But “Got this” involves standing right in the path of the still-speeding car and shooting through the windshield. Jesus, he’s going to get hit. He’s going to—
“Fuck.” At the last second, Milo fires and dives to the side. The car loses speed, rolling to a stop.
When I work up the nerve to look closer, I can see the driver slumped over the wheel. At least he’s alone, I guess.
“Jesus, Milo. Are you okay? Is he dead?”
“I’m fine. And he better fucking be.” Milo’s dusting himself off with one hand, still holding his gun in the other. There’s a leaf sticking out of his hair.
Eventually he seems to decide he can holster the weapon. I want to ask what we should do, but all that comes out is a weird throat noise.
We’re still standing there when another car slows down on the road and veers toward the field. There’s a moment that feels like forever where I’m too busy panicking to do anything but freeze. Is it a cop? What the hell do we say?
Then I realize the car is the vintage Mustang that Adam, Wes, and Troy left the B&B in this morning. They all climb out, Wes in the back even though he’s the biggest. He’s also looking the most put out by the entire situation.
Unlike me, they’re not frozen with their eyes wide like I am. They’re eyeballing the car with the dead guy like it’s an inconvenience and not, well, a dead guy. Is this normal for them or something?
“Saw you guys get rear-ended. This a road rage situation?” That’s Troy. He’s peering into the window of the car that hit us, as if this is any normal Sunday morning and he’s just curious about what the guy might be wearing.
Me, on the other hand? My lips are numb.
A motorcycle zooms by in the distance, and I can’t stop glancing around. We’re in a field with yet another body, or at least someone who’s severely injured. Anyone who looks too closely at the situation could find out.
Milo gestures at the man in the car. “Tried to run us off the road.” Then he ventures closer to check for a pulse, while I hold my breath.
Must be dead for sure, because Milo’s calm as he steps back to survey the damage.
Adam glances at the floor of the passenger seat. “Shit, this guy’s got a lot of firepower.”
“Didn’t do him much good.” That’s Wes, but if I’m not mistaken Milo looks awfully smug at his comment.
Troy slaps Milo on the shoulder. “Hurry and get him in your trunk. We’ve got a lake out back you can toss him in.”
Is this a normal thing people do? I’ve never once considered tossing a body in a lake in my life and now it’s twice in twenty-four hours.
Wes rubs his forehead, looking completely done. Maybe it’s a warm morning, but his face is a little red. “No dead bodies in the lake. We agreed.”
That’s…an odd thing to say. Right?
Troy gestures at the dead guy behind the wheel. “We can’t leave him here. There’ll be too many questions. And Rowan is family.”
That fast, my eyes are leaking. Nobody’s called me family in a very long time.
“Oh. Wow. Uh, thanks.” I’m embarrassed about how my chest is all gooey. To have these guys so willing—or at least, sort of willing—to help with an obviously fucked-up problem.
And they called me family.
Wes is still frowning, but I can see the moment he caves, and I’m wondering if hugging him would push him over the edge. Probably.
“Fine,” Wes says. “But hurry the fuck up. It’s the middle of the day. And for God’s sake, don’t let any of the other guests see you.”
At that point, I can’t stop myself from throwing my arms around him. “Thank you.”
All he does is sigh and shake his head while Milo backs our “borrowed” car up to the other one to make the transfer. It’s gross, seeing them un-wedge a body from the crumpled car, but the whole thing doesn’t register the way it would have a few days ago.
I’m still swiping at my wet cheeks, stuck on someone calling me family though. I haven’t talked to my parents or siblings in four years, and I’ve never missed them more.
Maybe the only family I have left are unhinged criminals, but at least it’s something.