IT’S BEEN ALMOST twenty hours and I’ve only left my room to eat and use the restroom. Nightmares have plagued most of my sleeping hours and I’ve gone through all the playlists on my iPad. Now, I’m bored. The scenery hasn’t changed much, just less trees and more open space. I’ve never seen so much open space, even when I’ve gone out to the North Fork of Long Island for wine tasting. The speeding trees make me dizzy, so I shift my focus. Fishing through my bottomless purse, I pull out the TracFone Dominic bought me and call Taryn. I block the number, just as instructed. She answers almost immediately.
“Hello?”
“It’s me,” I say, circling my thumb and middle finger.
“Delani! I’m so happy you called. I’m worried about you.” Her voice beams out of the phone and it makes me smile.
“I’m still on the train. Have a room all to myself, thanks to Dom.” Taking my legs, I swing them on to the seat across from me.
“What’s it like?”
“It’s like riding a subway, only more comfortable and a lot brighter.
“Doesn’t sound too bad.”
“No, it’s actually kinda nice,” I say, glancing out the window. “Lots of trees.”
“Just wait until you get to Texas. I went a few years ago. It’s really hot and I couldn’t find a mall!”
“No mall?” I ask, shocked. “It’s just as well, I have no money to spend anyway.”
“There was a Sonic and a Dairy Queen.”
“Great. I’ll be broke and fat,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Stop it. I wish I had your metabolism. I look at a cheeseburger and gain five pounds.” I smile. She’s right. I don’t exercise and can eat whatever I want. It’s bound to catch up with me eventually, though.
“Any word from Cole?” I ask, not sure I want to know the answer.
“I haven’t heard anything, although I haven’t seen or spoken to Dominic since you left last night.”
“So, tell me about this cousin of yours,” I say, needing a distraction.
“Travis? He’s okay, I guess. He was always a giant tease when we were kids. He would do anything to freak me out and always poked fun.” Great. Just what I need is a wise ass.
“Sounds like fun,” I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster.
“Stop. You’ll get along with him just fine. He’s a lot like Dominic, just a little rougher.”
“I can deal with that.”
“Everyone thinks he’s cute, but I don’t see it.”
I scrunch my face. “He’s your cousin, I would hope not.”
“I would love to sit and talk, but I have to get ready. Dominic’s coming to pick me up in a couple hours for lunch. she sighs. “Promise you’ll call me later?”
“Promise,” I say, smiling.
“I love you! Be safe,” she says, fear hiding behind her words.
“Love you too, and I’m fine.”
“Call me later,” she says, before hanging up.
Deciding now is as good a time as any, I Google Dayton, Texas and pull up the map. Clicking on the little person icon, I get a street view of the town. As I take the little blue man down each street, my heart sinks. Taryn wasn’t kidding. There’s nothing here. On a brighter note, it looks like it’s pretty close to Houston, so maybe there are things to do there. This is going to be a complete three-sixty from my everyday life, which consisted of shopping, and clubs . . . and shopping. Walking and rides on the subway were my means of transportation, not hours of driving to the middle of nowhere. Maybe I can pretend I’m camping . . . except I’ve never been camping, and would never go. Depressed, I close my phone. This is definitely a place I wouldn’t choose willingly. A knock on my door tells me I’ll be changing trains soon. One more day and I’ll be living it up country-style. Yippee.
I’VE SPENT A total of forty-one hours on trains and couldn’t be more grateful when I finally arrive in Houston. As I exit the train, I gasp at the brick wall of stifling hot air, feeling like I went from a walk in freezer to an oven. The heat is dry and unforgiving—something I’ve never experienced before. I rush inside the terminal, my body craving cooler surroundings.
Since I didn’t pack much in the way of luggage, I don’t need to worry about picking up my belongings. I have everything I brought with me. Now, to find Travis. Before I left, Dominic told me he’ll have a picture of me and to just wait inside the terminal. With the brief description Taryn gave me, it could be any of the hundreds of guys wandering around in here. Finding a wall, I back myself up against it and wait.
Walking through the entrance is a man fitting Taryn’s description. He’s tall, his hair short and light, and cute in a country boy kinda way. Dressed in a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and cowboy boots, he fits the part of a southern boy—definitely not my type. He looks down at a piece of paper, then glances up, his eyes searching the room. I stay where I’m at, a smile tilting my lips as he repeats the action over and over until his eyes land on mine. Smiling, he walks over to me. “Delani?”
“You must be Travis?”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s me,” he says in a thick southern drawl, a broad smile spreading across his face. “Let me take those.” Before I can object, he has both my bags hanging from his shoulders. “My car is this way,” he says, motioning to a side door. I follow, my stride slowing as I snarl at the idea of going back outside.
“Is it always this hot?” I ask, gasping for air.
“It’s actually nice today. Not too bad,” he says, glancing over at me while we walk.
“Shit, really?”
Travis shakes his head as he chuckles. “Yeah, it’s only eighty-five degrees. This time of year, it should be well over a hundred.” I follow Travis to a police car. “Sorry, had to pick you up in this, hope you don’t mind,” he murmurs.
“No, of course not.”
“There y’all are. What took so long?” a male voice from the passenger seat asks. Startled, my head whips around toward the sound and I drop my ginormous purse. Opening the door, he gets out and turns toward me. “Let me help ya with that.” As I lean down to pick up my scattered belongings, I notice he’s wearing cowboy boots. His back to me, he bends to grab the rest of my things. I can’t help but stare at the tight pair of blue jeans and t-shirt clinging to his taught body. He straightens and towers over me, his dark hair short, but wisps falling just above his eyes. His eyes. It’s his eyes that grab my attention. They’re the color of milk chocolate edged with a light sage green, and I fall into them. His lips turn up into a playful smile, causing the deep brown and seductive green dancing around the edge to swirl. I could stare into those irises all day.
“Sorry, I also had to bring my partner, Brody,” Travis says, his voice snapping me out of my trance and back to reality.
“No problem,” I mutter, still staring at Brody.
“Brody Russell, this is Delani Delvecchio.”
“Well, hello there, darlin’,” Brody purrs. “Wasn’t expectin’ somethin’ so . . .” he pauses, looking me up and down, “perfect.”
“Cut the crap, Brody. We’ve gotta go,” Travis says, nodding toward the backseat. “Delani, you’re gonna ride up front with me.”
“Sure. Where are we going?”
“I managed to get you a one-bedroom apartment close to the station. That way, I can keep my eye on you,” Travis says, placing my bags in the trunk.
“Hey, Chief, I can do that for you. I have no problem watchin’ out for this hot piece of ass.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask Brody, my eyebrows furrowed. Giving me a wink and a smile, he slides into the backseat.
“Ignore him,” Travis says, walking around to the driver’s side. “He’s an idiot.”
“It’s not often we get models around these parts,” Brody says from the back.
“Good Lord. Shut the hell up,” Travis snaps. “I’m real sorry about him.”
“It’s okay,” I murmur as we pull away.
As we drive through the city, I notice it’s not
that much different than Manhattan, but as we get farther away from the tall skyscrapers of Houston, there’s nothing. It’s all grassy fields, trees, and cows.
“So, what brings you out to our neck of the woods?” Brody asks.
“Is he joking, or is he just stupid?” I ask Travis, the corner of my lip tightening and slightly raising.
“I didn’t tell him much,” Travis admits. “I wasn’t sure who you wanted to know.”
“Oh,” I mutter. “Sorry,” I say, my head tilted Brody’s way.
“Don’t apologize. He’ll do something stupid soon enough,” Travis mutters.
“Hey, now. I’m sittin’ right here,” Brody says in defense as he scoots to the other side of the car, sitting diagonal from me. “So, you gonna answer the question?”
I sigh. “I came here to hide out.”
“From who?” Brody asks, his interest piqued.
“His name is Armond.”
“Do you have a last name?” Travis asks, glancing over at me.
“No. Just Armond.” Looking down at my hand, I swirl my thumb and index finger in circles.
“That’s okay. I’ll find out.” Travis’s voice is soft and soothing. It helps to calm me.
“Yeah. We’ll find out,” Brody interjects.
The trip takes less than an hour. During the drive, I answer as many questions as I can about Armond and his crew, avoiding specific details about my time with him. As we approach Dayton, I see how small and uneventful it is. This is the perfect place to hide out.
The main road, aptly named Main Street, is void of everything I expected. No big buildings, no busy sidewalks—just a bank, a Dairy Queen, and some small businesses I’ve never heard of. Turning down a side street, we pass the quiet police station, stopping in front of a small white house on an even smaller corner lot. Down the short driveway is a two-car garage.
“Well, here we are,” Travis says, putting the car in park.
“Here we are, where?” I ask, swiveling my head around. He can’t seriously be leaving me here. If he’s referring to that garage, I’ve seen bigger sheds.
“The garage in the back has been converted to a small apartment. It should be big enough for you, and close enough to me.” Getting out of the car, Travis opens the trunk and Brody scurries out after him.
“You never saw my brownstone,” I mutter under my breath, opening the door.
“Let me get these for you,” Brody says as I exit.
“I’ve got them,” I say, still annoyed. Standing in the driveway, I stare at my new home. Shaking my head, I move toward the trunk.
“I insist,” he says, lunging for my bags. His drawl isn’t as bad as Travis’s, but still noticeable.
Not in the mood to argue, I concede and follow them up the driveway. Travis pulls out a single key on a Texas A&M lanyard and opens the door.
I gasp as I enter the apartment. I’ve never seen anything so dreary. Or small. Or white. Or dirty. Travis places my bags down on the paisley upholstered couch in the center of the room. In the corner, on a small table, is a tube TV. The kitchen, if you can call it that, is an electric stove, a white refrigerator, and a microwave with barely enough cabinets to store a day’s worth of food. No island, no counter space, no drawers. An old iron table and chairs take up much of the space, leaving not much room to maneuver.
My head dipped low, I force myself into a bedroom the size of my closet back in New York. The room barely fits the single bed and dresser occupying the space. In the opposite corner, there’s a small door leading to a closet. The clothes I did manage to bring might fit in here. Might. Shaking my head, I stare at the ceiling. Cobwebs hang overhead and the thought of spiders causes me to shiver. I can’t even bring myself to look in the bathroom. Running my hands through my hair, I sit on the bed and jump up, startled by the loud creaking sound it makes. This. Is. A. Disaster. Squeezing my eyes shut, I apply pressure to the bridge of my nose with both hands.
“You okay?” Brody asks from behind me, and my eyes nearly bug out of my head.
“No. I am far from okay. This is a nightmare!” I spin around to face him, eyes wide in disbelief. “How can anyone expect me to stay here? This place should be condemned.”
Walking past him, I go back to the living area. Travis is sitting on the couch, his sympathetic eyes following me as I pace around the room. “It’s temporary,” he says, trying to calm me down.
“Temporary or not, this,” I say, flailing my arms at the contents of the apartment, “is insane!”
Brody appears in front of me. “You can stay with me, darlin’,” he says with a wink.
“No, she won’t,” Travis interjects, his brows snapping together. Turning to me, he asks, “What specifically don’t you like?”
“Everything. The furniture, the lack of space, the closet. The entire apartment is painted white, and it’s not even a clean white. This place is filthy, and I can’t afford a maid,” I whine. Brody rolls his eyes. “What?” I challenge, glaring at him with my hands on my hips.
“Just a little dusty. It ain’t that bad. I don’t understand what the big deal is,” Brody says, looking around, his mouth twisting into a smirk.
“Then you clean it!”
“All right, calm down. I’m sure we can figure something out,” Travis says to me, then narrows his eyes at Brody, shooting him a stop-the-shit look.
“I need a new mattress and all new bedding. I can’t sleep on someone else’s bed. That’s disgusting.”
“Travis, you didn’t tell me she was such a prima donna,” Brody mutters, rolling his eyes.
“How dare you!” I shout, moving toward Brody. Travis steps in between us, essentially stopping me from shoving him.
“Brody, go out to the car. Now.” Travis’s voice is low and commanding.
“Yes, sir.” Dropping his head, he walks out the door.
“I’m sorry about that,” he says, shaking his head.
“Stop apologizing for him. You can’t help that he’s a dick.”
Chuckling, Travis looks around the apartment for a few minutes. When he’s finished, he says, “I understand the bed issue. Everything else is cosmetic. If you want, I can bring you to a motel for a day or so while we work on getting you a new mattress.”
“Motel?”
“Well, we don’t have any fancy hotels around here.”
“Right.” I twist my mouth to the side, looking around the space again. Is sleeping in a motel any different from sleeping here? Probably. At least the sheets are clean. “Um . . . yeah, I guess so.”
“All right then, take whatever you need and I’ll drive you to the closest motel.” Standing, he walks out the front door. Oh my God, what did I get myself in to?
Getting in the car, Travis drives back to the road we came in on, turning like we’re heading back to Houston. We pass not one, but two motels, but Travis keeps on driving. As if reading my mind, he says, “You don’t want to stay at either of those, trust me.” Maybe a half mile farther is a Best Western. It doesn’t look too bad. Small palm trees and bushes decorate the property. Painted a pale pink, the building looks relatively new.
As Travis pulls along the curb by the entrance, he stretches his neck toward the backseat. “Brody, stay in the car. I don’t need you causing any more trouble.”
Brody mumbles something as Travis and I exit the car. I follow him inside through the double doors to the lobby. It’s bright and airy, with light colored furniture and rugs. A woman sitting behind the desk smiles as Travis approaches her. “Well, look at you! I ain’t seen you in a month of Sundays. Now, what brings you in here?”
“Afternoon, Betty. This here’s Delani. She’ll be needing a room for the evening. You got one available?”
“I sure do,” she says, all smiles. “Well, aren’t you a pretty thing!”
“Hi,” I say, still surveying my surroundings.
“I just so happen to have a room available. How long you plan on staying?” she asks me.
“A night
or two at the most,” Travis answers.
Typing some information into her computer, she prints a receipt and hands me a key card. “Here you go, sugar. Room’s on the first floor just down this hall. Room number eleven,” she says, motioning to the hallway behind me.
“Let me get your bags,” Travis says, then heads back out to the car. Walking down the hall toward my room, I find the right number and let myself in.
The room’s bigger than I thought it would be. Cleaner, too. Behind the king-size bed is what I was hoping for: an air conditioner. Turning it on, I crank it as cold as it will let me.
“Swanky room,” Brody says, and I spin toward his voice. His hip leaning against the door, legs crossed, he stares at me, holding my bags. He smiles and a dimple I didn’t notice before pops out in his right cheek.
“It’s okay, I guess,” I murmur as I turn away to look at my surroundings. It’s not the Waldorf Astoria, but it’ll do.
“It’s real nice.” Brody tosses my bags on the couch and plops down in the chair facing me, putting his feet up on the coffee table.
“Just make yourself comfortable,” I say, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
“Thanks, I believe I will,” he says, clasping his hands behind his head.
“Don’t you have parking tickets to write?” I ask, placing my hand on my hip.
“No, ma’am,” he says, a giant grin plastered on his face.
“No, really. Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
“No, ma’am,” he answers, his smile getting wider by the second.
“Are you always this annoying?” I ask, my face cracking into a smile.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“All right, Brody. Time to go,” Travis says, appearing in the doorway. Brody swings his feet down off the table and slowly stands. Turning his attention to me, Travis says, “You should be all right here for the night. I’m working on getting you some transportation, but since it was such short notice, you’ll have to settle for me or one of my officers driving you around if you need something. Here’s my cell number,” he says, handing me one of his business cards.
“Thank you,” I sigh.
When the Storm Ends Page 5