Chapter 7
Whitley
“I don’t even know your name,” I tell the handsome stranger when he gets into the driver’s seat.
Why the heck am I trusting him again? I suppose I don’t have a lot of options, but there’s also something about him that feels safe. From the start, I thought he was different from the normal men that came into The Bald Beaver.
“Mack, Mack Reins.” He gives me a charming smirk. One that I’m sure is meant to make me swoon, and I hate how my heart gives a flutter. His smile makes me relax, and I have to remind myself that I’m na?ve about people. Quinn constantly reminded me of that.
“Are you really a detective?”
“I’m a private one, yes.” He pulls out of the parking lot, and I glance in the side mirror, knowing I’ll never be back here again.
I knew the second I saw Stowe today that he didn’t get the ID. When he came into the back and saw me standing there, his face lit up. That only happens when money is involved. That meant the man from the night before was already back.
All Stowe cared about was the money. He pushed me to go into that room and said I’d make double what I did last night. The guy in the room was the whole reason I freaked out to begin with.
Though the more I thought about it, my fear began to taper off. He could have taken me last night, but he didn’t. When I told Stowe I’d go in the private room, he swore he’d work on getting me an ID. He was so full of shit, and we both knew it.
The whole walk to the room, I was freaking out and wondering why he wanted to talk to me. Then I overheard him talking to Hartley, and it sounded like he wanted to help me. Why? The craziest part is that I believed him. Or maybe I longed to believe in someone.
Mack was right, though. If he tracked me down, it was only a matter of time before someone else did. Getting out of town was the best option, and I think he can help me do that. If I start to suspect he’s lying, I can run. It would be easier to escape him than the gates of my father’s home. Maybe.
“Can we swing by the motel? My things are there.”
“Yeah, but we need to be quick.” He takes a left at the light.
I watch him as he drives, taking him in. He’s bigger than I remember. I was sure I’d built up how good-looking he was in my head, but if anything, he’s better. That same warm scent fills the inside of the car, and I love how it relaxes me.
It’s not until we’re pulling into the motel that I realize I never told him where to go. “I didn’t mention what motel I was staying at.”
He parks right in front of my room and sighs. “No, but you said motel. This is the only one in town. It’s also the only hotel or motel in this town that takes cash,” he says as he grabs his keys. “Plus, I followed you,” Mack admits honestly.
Should that freak me out or make me feel better? Again, he had a chance to grab me, and he didn’t.
“You know where I live?” I ask, and he nods. Again he’s telling me the truth.
“Come on. Let’s get your bags.” He gets out of the car, and I follow after him.
“Wait.” Mack moves in front of me and pushes open the door of my room.
My eyes widen as a gun appears in his hand, and he steps inside, glancing around.
He quickly goes to the closet and then the bathroom before coming back to me. “All right, it’s safe.”
“Where did the gun come from?”
“My car.” He reaches behind him and tucks it away. “Does it scare you?”
“No, I just didn’t see it.” It came out of nowhere.
“I put it on when we got in the car. No firearms in the club.” The man has quick hands.
“Let me get my bathroom stuff. Everything else is still packed.” I hurry and grab everything.
“I shouldn’t have let you sleep here last night,” he mutters so low I almost don’t hear him as he looks around the room.
“I didn’t really sleep,” I say as I shove everything into one of my bags.
“You were worried.” He says it with concern in his voice before he comes over to me and touches my chin. He looks at my face as he tilts it up towards him like he’s inspecting my eyes for the truth. “You’ll sleep in the car.”
“Next to the man I don’t know that also happens to have a gun?”
“I’m not the bad guy. You can google me if you want.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.” Lots of people appear to be good on digital paper.
“You’re right,” he agrees, dropping his hand. “You shouldn’t trust someone you only met last night, but we don’t have time to waste. I’ll show you that I’m a good guy.” He grabs my bags for me, and I toss the key to my room on the nightstand before leaving.
“Where are we going?” I ask when we pull onto the highway.
“Somewhere safe until I can figure this out.” He runs his hand through his hair in a frustrated motion.
“You’re tired.”
“I’ll be fine.” He must have sat outside my room all night watching me. Was he protecting me or keeping tabs?
“What do you have to figure out?” I ask, and he flicks a glance my way before his eyes go back to the road.
“Why did you run?” He asks his own question and ignores mine.
“Did my father hire you?” I turn the tables and ignore his question this time. Mack takes a long pause before finally answering me.
“Yes.” My stomach sinks before he continues. “But I’m not taking you to him.”
“Why? Did something happen to him?”
“He’s okay, as far as I know.”
“Oh.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“You’re running from him yet you’re worried about him too?”
“I guess.” There’s no denying the rush of emotion I had when I thought he might be hurt or worse. “It’s complicated.”
“I’m getting that. Trust me.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “Are you scared of him?”
“I don’t know how to answer that.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“I don’t know how to answer that either.” Mack’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. “He’s never laid a hand on me, if that’s what you mean.”
“Do you know who your father is?” The question has me pausing, and I shrug my shoulder. My hackles start to rise. “Come on, little bit, talk to me,” he says gently.
“Little bit?” I smile. How is it he can so easily get me to calm down with a few words? It is kind of a fitting name for me, especially compared to Mack. You’d need three of me to make one of him. “Are you really a cop?”
He might be lying that my father sent him. Mack is clean-cut, but my father is too in his fancy suits. The difference is there’s a dark air around my father.
“No.” He shakes his head as a chuckle leaves him.
“I don’t know about my father’s business dealings.”
“But you know about his business?” He lifts a brow.
“Kind of.”
“This gets messier by the second.” He lets out a long sigh.
“What do you mean?”
“You need protection from your father, but you also don’t want anything to happen to him. Am I getting that right?”
“I want to be free,” I whisper.
“Nothing is free, little bit. Not even freedom.”
“I know.” I close my eyes, not wanting to think about the price I’m going to have to pay.