8. Tempest #2
Louise disappears back into the workroom, Lilah follows her without a second thought, and I stay where I am, coffee in hand, watching the shop around me.
It's busier than I expected, customers drift in and out.
Cara moves between them without missing a beat, answering questions while trimming stems and wrapping bouquets at the same time.
Lilah slips behind the counter like she never left, there's no hesitation, no second-guessing. She knows where everything is.
I haven't seen her this relaxed before. She smiles more, is talking more, she isn't looking over her shoulder every thirty seconds. I like it. Probably more than I should.
She's fucking beautiful when she smiles, but it's more than that.
I like hearing her laugh. I like when she forgets herself and starts talking with her hands, or gets worked up over something and her eyes light up.
I like that little crease she gets between her brows when she thinks I'm talking shit.
I'm starting to like a lot of things about Lilah, more every fucking day.
Cara says something from the stockroom. I don't catch it, but whatever it is, Lilah laughs; she ducks her head, trying to smother it, but she's too late, I hear it anyway.
She looks over and catches me watching. "What?"
"Nothing."
She points the stems she's holding at me. "You keep doing that."
I stare at her blankly. "Doing what?"
"Watching."
I take another drink of my coffee. "Occupational hazard."
She rolls her eyes. "You're impossible."
"Been told."
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and see Rogue's name on the screen. I glance at Lilah; her attention is nowhere near me, she’s busy talking with Louise and Cara while working so I step outside and answer. "Rogue. Everything good?"
"The building log came back clean," he says. "No unusual codes, no odd access. He didn't get into the building through the keypad."
Fucker. "He followed someone in."
"Looks that way." I hear keys tapping in the background. "I've gone through every entry over the last couple of weeks. Nothing stands out."
I run my hand along the back of my neck. Shit. "Alright."
"But I found something else." His tone changes enough that I straighten. "The florist cameras."
My gut clenches. "What about them?"
"Ghost mentioned the SUV from the other night. Turns out that wasn't the only time,” he says and I wait, needing to know what he’s uncovered. "I've got four sightings over fourteen days, the same vehicle description, different times, and different streets around the shop."
Two fucking weeks.
I look through the florist window. Lilah's helping an elderly woman choose flowers, smiling in that easy way she only seems to manage in here. "She had no idea."
"No,” he agrees.
"Don't tell her," I say.
"Wasn't planning to."
"What else?" I ask, needing to know it all.
"The Matthew Cole identity," he says, his voice tight. I lean against the wall, my fingers tightening around my cell as he continues to speak. "The bank account wasn't opened six weeks ago."
"It wasn't? Then when?"
"Four months ago."
I close my eyes for a second. Fuck. "So he's been here that long."
"Looks that way."
Christ, he’s had four months to rent an apartment, learn the streets, find Petals, and work out exactly when Lilah comes and goes, he didn't stumble across her, he came looking.
"We'll keep digging," Rogue says. "Something changed, we just haven't found what."
"You will," I assure him.
"We will," he reiterates. He’s right; we’re all in this. We’ll figure it out.
The call ends and I stay where I am for another few seconds, staring out at the traffic. Four months. The bastard hadn't just found her, he's been hunting her.
I take a deep breath and wonder what the fuck happens now? Do I tell her? If I do, will she retreat back into herself? She’s started to live these past two days; will telling her that he’s been watching her for four months send her spiraling?
She walks beside me in comfortable silence as we make our way to the supermarket.
A couple of times, I catch her looking at me.
Not for very long but enough to tell me she's noticed something's different and is curious about it.
Thankfully, she doesn't ask; she just keeps pace beside me, letting me have my own head.
I'm beginning to think that's one of the things she does best.
Inside, she grabs a basket and heads straight for the fruit and vegetables.
"You've done this before," I say, grinning.
She glances over her shoulder. "Grocery shopping?"
"This particular store," I amend.
She smiles. "I know where everything is."
"I can tell."
She laughs quietly. "I come here every week."
"Are you always this organized?"
"I have to be." She says it without thinking, but then she catches herself and her smile slips for a second. I don't push; she’ll tell me if she wants.
She stops in front of the pasta. "This one," she says, but I’m already reaching for a different brand. "Not that one."
I look at her. "Are you judging my pasta choices already?"
She nods. "Absolutely."
I narrow my eyes. "We've only known each other for a week."
"Long enough to know you shouldn't be trusted to pick pasta."
I swap it for the one she's holding. "Happy?"
She smiles. "Very."
A few aisles later, she reaches for something on the top shelf just as I do. Our hands meet, just my fingers brushing the back of hers. She stills, only for a second, then she looks at me and neither of us moves.
"I've got it," she says quietly.
I let go. "Sorry."
"Don't be,” she says with a soft smile as she takes it from the shelf and drops it into the basket.
We carry on walking, and I tell myself I didn’t just feel a spark when our fingers met. But the trouble is I'm not sure I believe myself anymore.
My phone rings when we're halfway back to the apartment; it’s Ghost.
I answer it. "Prez."
"Church in an hour."
My gut twists. Fuck. "Yeah."
"Stay with Lilah."
I glance at her as she walks beside me, reading the label on something she'd picked up at the supermarket. That tightening in my gut unfurls. "I was planning to."
"Good,” he says. “If you were coming to church, she'd be coming to the clubhouse."
I snort. "That would've gone down well."
I hear Savage laugh in the background, and then Venom's voice carries clearly enough through the phone that I don't need a speaker. "See? I told you, he's already planning where she's gonna sit."