by Elle Casey
He pushes the cart past me. “Absolutely nothing.” He’s grinning like a devil.
“Boy, I’m-a . . .” I shake my head at him, enjoying the banter but pretending like he’s getting on my nerves. I like playing innocent flirting games with him. I can’t remember the last man I was able to do that with.
He keeps going, flashing his membership card at the entrance and moving into the television and stereo area. I catch up with him when he’s staring at the radios that hook into cell phones to play music.
I gaze over the interior of the huge warehouse, amazed at the product selection. I can just make out a huge refrigerated section in the back. I wonder how close the cabin is to a grocery store. “Does your cabin have a big fridge or one of those little dorm-room-size ones?”
“Big one.”
“It sounds like a real honest-to-goodness vacation place. And you said it’s in the bayou?”
“Yep. Surrounded by big trees with hanging moss. It’s beautiful.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing it.” It sounds like heaven compared to what I’ve been living in, actually. But I probably shouldn’t expect too much. It’s only temporary, and Thibault did say it’s not that fancy.
“Me, too.” He picks up a package of headphones to examine them. “I just realized I haven’t had a vacation in a couple years.” He glances at me. “Not that this is a vacation, but it is time off work.”
“Two years? Wow. Don’t you get vacation days at your job?”
“Yeah, sure. It’s not that the company doesn’t give me time off, I just never take it. I’m always too busy working one case after another after another. Even now, when there’s nothing big going on, I still have to handle employee issues, share business decisions with Ozzie, be there for training when my knee is better . . .”
Someone pushes past me and bumps my arm, going so fast he doesn’t even stop to apologize. I frown at his back, the stranger whose pants are pulled up way too high. “This place is crazy.”
“A madhouse,” Thibault says, looking around. “Where’s the snack aisle?”
I stop at a set of glass shelves, lifting up a purse displayed under lights. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. “This is a Gucci bag. Do you know how much this costs in the Gucci store?” I try to find the price tag. This is the kind of gift Pavel buys a woman to signal his possession of her. I figured out how he operates very early on and never accepted anything from him if I could help it.
“I’ll bet it costs more there than it does here,” Thibault says.
I finally catch the price on a little ticket stuck to the shelf. Damn. “You can say that again.” I put it down gently next to the others. Even though it’s about half its regular price, it’s still too rich for my budget. I couldn’t even imagine spending that kind of money for a bag now that I have to buy diapers.
Thibault pushes the cart toward another area of the store, out of the luxury goods and electronics sections. “We have to buy almost everything in bulk here, but I figure with as many diapers as this little guy is going to go through, we’re in the right place.” He pauses to let someone go by and strokes Tee’s cheek. The baby squirms in response but remains sleeping. He scowls like Thibault’s bugging him, and it makes us both laugh.
“He’s saying, ‘Get your hands off me. Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep?’” I say, touching his tiny chin.
“I’m sorry. I should leave him alone.” Thibault looks apologetic.
“I was just kidding.” I tap him on the arm with the back of my hand. “Come on, lighten up. I was just messing around. You can tickle his little face all you want.”
His eyebrows go up. “Did you just tell me to lighten up?”
“Yes.” I try not to smile.
He presses his pouting lips together. “Okay, then. I’ll lighten up.” He grins and points the cart down an aisle full of junk food. “Bulk packages of beef jerky, here we come.”
When I see him pick up what looks like about a hundred packages of dried beef, I have to ask the question that pops into my mind. “How long do you think we’re going to be at the cabin?”
He shrugs. “Maybe just a few days. It depends on what the team figures out after seeing your data.”
“What data?” I freeze in place, not sure I understand what he’s talking about.
He grabs another bag of dried meat and studies the package as he answers. “Whatever it is you plan to give Holloway.” He looks up at me. “Assuming you trust us to see it and pass it on for you.” He goes back to his snacks, giving me time to gather my thoughts without the pressure of his gaze.
“I don’t remember saying that was part of my plan,” I say as he pushes the cart farther down the aisle.
“We haven’t had a chance to talk about it. I figured we could discuss it on the way to the cabin. It’s an hour drive.”
My first reaction is to tell him to stuff it. Giving his team anything was not part of my plan. But then on further reflection, I realize I don’t really have a plan. I haven’t had one since I went into labor.
I walk over and take hold of the edge of the cart, using it to prop myself up a little. My lower back is bothering me. “So are you saying that you think your team can give Holloway what he wants for me? So I don’t have to go meet with him?” I’m liking the idea of never going back to New Orleans again. Not because I don’t love the city, but because Pavel is there, and I imagine he has eyes everywhere and they’re all looking for me.
“Maybe. I guess it depends on what you have.”
I’m seized with the desire to tell him everything. It would be so nice to unload to someone and share the burden. But I can’t. Not yet, anyway. Still, he has a right to know some things; he is hiding me and my baby away, after all.
“I have what the detective said he needs. Let’s just put it that way.”
He glances at me before pushing the cart to the next aisle over. “Once we get settled in, we’ll get in contact with them and give them whatever you have. If you want. It’s totally up to you.” He pauses, lowering his voice and looking me in the eye. “I don’t want you to think I’m a pushy jerk all the time.”
He’s obviously taken the things May and Jenny said to heart. I have to give him credit for that; most men think the advice they get from women is worthless. “Okay. That sounds like a plan.”
“I think it’s only fair, since you’ve started to let me help you a little bit.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugs, pushing the cart off again as he leans heavily on it with both arms bent at the elbows. “Nothing. I’m just saying that before, you were going to get on a bus and disappear, and now you’re letting me help. A little. And I’m glad.” He pauses to look at me over his shoulder. “We’re good, right? This isn’t freaking you out too much?”
I shrug. “Yeah, we’re good.” It is freaking me out, but it’s not his fault. He’s trying hard; that much is clear. And I am, too. I don’t know what’s fueling my efforts, though. Is it fear? Jealousy? Desire? Madness? I’ve been riding an emotional roller coaster for weeks, so any of these could be a viable explanation. But I’m not going to focus on that right now. I’m going to get this shopping done, get to that cabin, breathe calmly for about a day, and then worry about everything else.
“So do you know how to cook anything besides sandwiches and noodles?” I ask.
He points at his chest with his thumb. “Who, me? Are you kidding?”
“No. Why would I be? You’re a single guy living on your own. I think it’s safe to assume you eat heated-up frozen food or takeout almost every night if you’re not at your sister’s. That’s what Pavel does.”
“I mostly do takeout. I’m not a fan of frozen food.”
“Oh. So you don’t cook, then, aside from pasta.”
“A little. I cook a little, but feel free to take over the kitchen duties if you want.”
We pass a few more aisles before Thibault speaks up. “So you guys lived together? You
and Pavel?”
He stops the cart when we reach the next aisle.
“No.” The very idea makes me stress. It was bad enough working with him almost every day.
Thibault puts a big box of gum in the cart. “Pick what you want. Anything at all. Sky’s the limit.”
I’m happy for the distraction. “Ooo, this is exciting.” I put a bag of Oreos in the cart.
He stops rolling along to look at me. “When we drove by your place and you couldn’t go in, I figured that meant it was because he was home.”
For some reason, it’s easier talking to him in the middle of this giant warehouse with strangers around us than it is when we’re alone in his home. “No, I wasn’t living with him, but I was living with somebody he knows very well. And his car was there, so . . .” I shrug.
“Oh.” He pushes forward, eventually reaching a table full of books. He looks through the titles.
I do the same, stopping when I see one with pretty pictures of food on it. “Do you mind if I buy a cookbook?” I hold it up. “I can pay you back once we get to an ATM machine.”
“Be my guest.” He moves closer and drops his voice. “But I think it’s better if we stay away from the ATMs for a little while. They can tell people where we are, and right now I’d rather no one be able to track us.”
“Okay.” I nod, all the horrible feelings and worries about Pavel rushing back to me.
“So you never told me how Pavel found you in the hospital,” he says, acting like his question is casual when it couldn’t possibly be. “Did you call him?”
I sigh, dropping the cookbook into the cart. So, so many problems could have been avoided if I’d just listened to my instincts and not called Sonia. “Not exactly.” Maybe Pavel would have found out eventually after seeing my car on the news, but it would have given me more time to get away.
I move on to examine bags of refrigerated cheese, glancing back to make sure Thibault is still following with my baby. I trust Thibault not to do anything unsafe, but I still feel really uncomfortable when Tee is more than five feet away. It’s like the umbilical cord was cut, but they left an invisible one behind that’s still connecting us.
Thibault is staring down at the baby, forcing people to move around them. I walk over and stop at his elbow, looking down at my son. “What are you staring at? Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. I think he’s dreaming.” Thibault points to his face. “Look at him; his eyebrows are all scrunched up like he’s mad.”
I smile. “He does that all the time. I wonder what he’s thinking right now.”
The baby starts smiling in his sleep and makes sucking motions with his tiny lips.
“He’s dreaming about your boobs, I think.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “Excuse me?”
He smiles like a little kid who’s been busted. “What? He’s a baby. Your boobs are the focus of his entire world.”
“Is that so?”
He holds up his hands. “Hey, I’m innocent. I’m just making a comment about a mother and her baby.”
“I think you need to keep your mind off my you-know-whats and put it back on your shopping.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He limps away, hunched over the cart handle. I’d be willing to bet he’s still smiling even though I can’t see his face.
His hands come up. “I’m innocent,” he says, louder.
I shake my head at him as he turns the corner to the next aisle. I don’t think he could possibly be more charming.
“Hey, Tamika. What’s going on?” The voice comes from behind me. My heart lurches as recognition seizes me. Sebastian?! In this store?! My paranoia tells me Pavel has him out searching for me, and I want to scream over the fact that he’s found me—I was supposed to be the needle in a haystack. But then I see Sebastian has his own cart full of items, and the paranoia fades into the background. Now I’m just plain old scared. Sebastian is a warehouse shopper like everyone else around me right now, but he’ll be on his phone in no time telling Pavel who he saw here.
Thibault has paused, looking back at me, the cart no longer visible as it’s turned the corner around the next aisle. I bug my eyes out at him and give him the slightest of head shakes before turning around and facing the man behind me.
“Hey, Sebastian. How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in ages.” I can’t look back at Thibault; there’s still a chance Sebastian didn’t see me with him and the baby. I feel sick. I have to swallow over and over not to lose control of my stomach.
“I’ve been good. I’ve been meaning to get in touch with Pavel. Have you seen him? I went over to his place yesterday, but he wasn’t there. I sent him a couple of texts, but he’s not answering.”
He’s totally lying. He was at my apartment with Pavel and Sonia the other night; I saw his car there. He’s playing games.
I shrug, sliding my hands into the pockets of Toni’s sweat jacket to hide the trembling. “No, I haven’t seen him. I’ve been kinda busy.”
“Really? What have you been up to?”
“Oh, nothing much. You know Pavel . . . Always keeping me on one thing or another. He doesn’t like me telling people too much.” There. I’ll plant a seed of suspicion in Sebastian’s head. It’s not tough with Pavel’s people to do that; they’re uber-paranoid. Maybe he’ll believe that Pavel was playing with him the other day, pretending to look for me when he knew exactly where I was all along.
Sebastian frowns. “Yeah, I hear you.” Then he visibly cheers up as he delivers his next question. “And how is Alexei? Is he okay?”
More games. I can’t freak out right now about why Pavel’s sweet disabled cousin stopped coming around my apartment for random meals a few weeks ago. The cops will just have to search for him as part of my deal. I’m not going to abandon the one person who gave me a reason to keep getting up in the morning.
“I haven’t seen him. Not for a long time. Weeks.” When Alexei stopped showing up at my apartment, I had to pretend it didn’t matter. It was the only way to keep Pavel from getting too interested in my life. I try to ignore the fact that Alexei is also the reason I stayed as long as I did and that him disappearing made it easier to trade Pavel’s secrets for my freedom, but it’s impossible. The guilt over not being a better friend burns my heart.
“I haven’t seen him in a while, either.” Sebastian looks to his left and right, lowering his voice. “Did he do something wrong? Did he get . . . put down?”
I shrug, drawing my arms in tighter against me. It feels like the warehouse just got ten degrees cooler. “I don’t know. You know I don’t ask questions like that.”
“Yeah, but I would’ve thought with Alexei it would’ve been different. You guys were friends, right? You took care of him sometimes?”
I glare at Sebastian. He’s messing with me and we both know it. But I’m not going to grab the bait because I need to get the hell out of here before he contacts Pavel and tells him he saw me.
Sebastian straightens up and smiles. “Look at me, bringing everybody down.” He reaches up and play-punches me in the arm. I shy away, but he still makes contact. There’ll be a bruise there, since he made sure to use a knuckle. “I’m sure Alexei’s fine. When you see him, tell him hi for me.”
“Yeah, okay, I’ll do that.”
He puts his hands on his hips. “You take care of yourself, Tamika.” There’s a message in his statement, but I don’t even want to guess what it is.
“Yeah, sure. You, too.”
I turn to walk in the opposite direction, back toward the front of the store. I have to get away. Hide. Never let Sebastian see me with my baby. He’s exactly the kind of psychotic ass-kisser who would think nothing of grabbing Tee and walking out the door with him, thinking he was doing Pavel a favor by delivering his child to his doorstep. I pray Thibault knows I wouldn’t abandon my child. I’m just going to hide until I know Sebastian can’t see me anymore.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I’m standing next to the hot-dog stand tha
t’s on the other side of the registers. There are three people ahead of Thibault at the register he’s chosen. Baby Tee looks like he’s waking up, the way he’s squirming around in his blankets. Thibault leans over to talk to him, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. Knowing my baby is hungry makes my body react. My breasts are suddenly heavy and raring to go. Dammit. I look down, hoping this jacket is thick enough to hide wet spots.
A woman standing in the next aisle over walks over to my baby. “How old is he?” she asks in a loud voice. Her top could not be cut any lower or her pants any tighter. I hate her instantly. Get away from my baby. Get away from my . . . friend.
Damn. I almost said “man” there. I shake my head, trying to get it back on track and focused. I’m obviously in need of some food. The smell of the hot dogs is killing me.
Thibault answers with something I can’t hear. He’s focused completely on the baby. It’s curious to me that he’s not ogling the woman when every other guy nearby is. Even I’m having a hard time tearing my eyes away from her. I see a major wardrobe malfunction on the horizon; her boobs look like they’re going to fall out of her top at any second.
“Oh, my goodness, a newborn,” she says, jiggling her jugs in Thibault’s face. “I can’t believe you have him out in public already.”
Thibault looks worried when he responds.
She shrugs. “Some people don’t like exposing their newborns to the germs for a little while. But I’m sure your doctor knows best.” She shrugs and flashes him her veneers.
I feel colossally stupid for not staying in the car. The brochure I read in the hospital said I should limit Tee’s exposure to strangers and germs. What is wrong with me? I could have avoided a psycho and the plague at the same time.
Thibault covers more of the baby with the blanket, giving the woman a perfunctory nod. He pushes the cart forward as one more person finishes their checkout in front of him. He’s scanning the crowd, looking for me, probably, but I’m worried if he sees me, he’ll wave me over and then Sebastian might lock onto us too. I assume he’s still in the store somewhere, because I haven’t seen him leave.