Chapter 5 #2
His throat vibrates with a laugh, which reminds me I’m practically choking him.
I loosen my hold so I’m barely touching his shoulders.
I don’t melt into him. I don’t rest my head against his or wrap my legs tighter around his waist. I don’t wish his hands would slide from the outside to the inside of my thighs.
I can’t get caught up in how much I love being with him again, especially this close, closer than he’s ever allowed. I won’t let myself misjudge his care for desire or his kindness for passion—I refuse to make that mistake twice.
Besides, he’s just being nice because my ankle is swollen and I don’t have shoes. He’s a nice guy, the best. He’d do the same thing for anyone. It doesn’t mean anything more.
“This is my sister’s salon,” he says, jerking his chin at the building with a pink door next to the bar, then points at the monstrosity that takes up at least three-quarters of the block on the opposite side. “And that’s Lawless Protection Agency.”
It’s impossible to miss. Red dots flash from cameras high up in the corners, bright white lights shine as they sense our motion, and there are two fences surrounding a parking lot behind the building, both with sharp razors along the top, the inner one also has a sign with an electrical bolt on it.
I’m slightly freaked out at the level of security, because how dangerous are the people they’re trying to keep out that they need an electric fence and double barbed wire?
“You mean Alcatraz?”
I hear the smile in his voice. “I need to get some supplies before we head out. My main priority is finding your cat, but I’m bringing provisions as well.”
“Thank you, Ben. For everything. You don’t have to do this, and I want you to know that even if we don’t find her, it means the world to me that you’re willing to try.”
“We’ll find her.”
He stops in front of a heavy black door with a number pad and enters a really long code. It beeps, I hear a mechanical sound, then a thin green laser shoots out of a little circle I thought was a peephole and scan’s Ben’s face.
He opens the door, then repeats the process about five feet after we enter a vestibule. Once we’re through that, he pivots left, then presses his thumb into a pad. A buzz sounds, a lock clicks, then he’s stepping onto the pavement behind the fences.
“I’m impressed but also a little freaked out.” I think out loud.
“Nothing to be freaked out about,” he says, opening the passenger door to a Tahoe. I climb off his back into the seat. He turns to me. “I’ll be back in less than four minutes. You’re safe here.”
“The president would be safe here,” I note.
He closes the door on me, and I press the lock button immediately.
He looks back and shakes his head with a grin.
I’m glad he thinks I’m amusing, but I didn’t do it to be funny.
Habit, I guess. But also because even though I know nothing’s going to happen here, an immediate panic washes over me being all alone.
“One, two, three…” I count out loud as a distraction, timing Ben. True to his word, he comes sauntering back just as I reach two hundred.
He throws a large bag in the back seat before pulling out of the space, then stops in front of two gates, opening his window to enter a code. “Good?”
“Yep.”
He drives out onto the empty street, rolls through the stop sign at the corner, then parks in front of an open diner.
He tosses his phone at me, and I almost don’t catch it.
“Put your address in, Blue. I’ll be right back.
” I’m so tempted to snoop just because I want to know about his life, but I don’t.
I enter my address, hit GO, and the GPS illuminates the screen on the dash.
The arrival time is five thirty in the morning, and I feel terrible.
I think the adrenaline has worn off a little bit, and I’m realizing how irrational I’m being.
Maybe I should just get a bus ticket back home so he can get some sleep.
If I go straight to the police, I bet I can file an actual complaint since I have evidence now… I think.
Ben returns with his hands full. “Wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for,” he says, putting a paper bag in my lap.
“I got you a burger and a sausage, egg, and cheese breakfast biscuit.” He pokes straws into both cups.
“Chocolate shake and orange juice, but I know even if you pick the biscuit, you’ll want the shake, so the OJ’s mine.
And here’s ice.” He reaches over and gently places a plastic bag on my ankle.
He buckles up, then we’re on the road.
I blink, look at all this stuff. Then blink again. “How did you get food so fast?”
“Ordered it while you were in the shower.”
Because of course he did. He thinks of everything. He’s too much. This is…it’s not right. I’m being selfish, and he’s too nice. “Ben, I—”
“Asked them to bag up ice ’cause I only had one tray in my freezer.”
“Ben!”
He shakes his head. “We’re not doing this, Annie.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“You’re going to say nothing because you’re going to eat, then you’re going to slurp down a shake, then if you don’t fall asleep, you can fill me in on what you’ve been up to.”
I cross my arms and glare at his handsome profile. “You can’t tell me when to speak.”
“I can when I know you’re gonna try to come up with all the reasons I should turn around, but you know me, babe. You know that’s not gonna happen.”
Again, he’s right, but…babe?
Don’t read into it. Don’t read into it.
“Toss me what you don’t want.”
I won’t win against him, so I open the bag, take out the biscuit for myself, then unfold the burger and hold it up for him. Our fingers brush. No shock, but a current of warmth radiates up my arm, and I yank my hand back.
Don’t read into it. Don’t read into it.
I take a huge bite so I don’t say something stupid because I am stupid. How can I even think about him like that right now? My baby is missing, and someone broke into my apartment. My stomach churns, and as delicious as the biscuit is, I can’t eat anymore.
My nose prickles, and I turn my head, resting my temple on the window.
I close my eyes to gather my thoughts, to try to make sense of the last handful of hours.
As usual, my mind spins with more thoughts than I can sort, and my sinuses begin to ache.
My lids flutter, but I don’t think Ben can tell because from this angle, I can see him rubbing his knee.
The knee that was shattered by the bullet my father aimed at him.