Off Chance

by Sawyer Bennett

  It's weird... but nice.

  Which also ramps my guilt up further over the way I reacted this morning.

  "I'm sorry," I blurt out.

  Those are two words that don't come easily to me because I rarely apologize for my actions. It's not that I don't ever think that I'm wrong, but in my world, you have to react on instinct most of the time, and you have to be confident about it. Apologizing for foolish actions could get you in trouble down the road and ruin your street cred.

  "Sorry for what?" he asks as he turns the car off.

  "For being a bitch this morning. I know you didn't mean anything by that "beggar" comment. I was just being too defensive and you didn't deserve it. Not when you've been so nice to me and all."

  His casual smile turns into a full-blown grin, that deep dimple showing brightly. "Let's not forget I saved your life, too."

  I giggle just a bit and then immediately bite down on my tongue to stop the foreign sound from coming out of my mouth. I can't manage to turn down the corners of my mouth that unwillingly lift up. "Of course not... I could never forget that."

  My gaze falters a bit from the open acceptance of my apology on his face, and I stare back down at my skirt. I've never met anyone like Flynn Caldwell and his generosity unsettles me.

  Because generosity is something I've never encountered in my entire adult life.

  Not once.

  Before I can act even more a fool over the way he ties me up, I grab the door and open it. Giving him a quick look, I tell him, "I'll be back in just a minute, okay?"

  He nods. "Sure. Take your time."

  Just before I shut the door, I tell him one more thing. "Do you mind if we make another stop before we head back to your place?"

  His smile is warm and accommodating. "Sure... what do you need?"

  "I need a cell phone and underwear," I tell him. "It's a bit drafty under this skirt without it."

  For some reason, I cannot fathom why, I get a surge of satisfaction as I see Flynn's eyes flicker with heat and his gaze travel to the edge of my mini-skirt. I can practically see inside his head, as understanding dawns on him that I'm going commando.

  "You're not wearing underwear?" His voice is rough and for some reason, it causes me to have a reactive shiver.

  Our eyes hold each other, and while I started out telling him this as a way to show him I didn't have to be so serious all the time, it's now turned into something a little sensual.

  I shake my head. "I guess I better be careful... this skirt is awful short." His gaze flicks back down to the hemline, which rests against my upper thighs, and back up again.

  While his eyes seem to grow warmer as they look at me, his lips curl up when he says, "Don't bend over and you'll be fine."

  My face involuntarily reacts and I shoot him a grin as I shut the door. As I turn away to walk into the apartment building, I know his eyes are on my ass the entire time and it doesn't bother me in the slightest.

  Amy opens the door after I pound on it for about five minutes. I've clearly woken her up, even though it's almost noon.

  Her eyes are foggy as they try to focus on me but when recognition hits, she grabs my arm and pulls me in, slamming the door shut quickly.

  "My God, Rowan... What are you doing here?"

  "I came to get my money you were holding."

  She looks twitchy but says, "Sure... no problem. But then you have to leave."

  Her statement makes the hair on my neck stand up. "Has Juice been here?"

  She nods as she reaches over to the counter for a pack of cigarettes. Pulling one out, she lights it, inhaling deeply and then letting a huge plume of smoke out. "Last night. He told me about the fire and that he's been looking for you. He thought you were here and that I was hiding you."

  I can only imagine the intimidation tactics Juice would use and I feel terrible I put her in this situation, just by the mere fact we know each other. "Are you okay?"

  She turns her back on me and walks into the kitchen. Reaching into a cupboard, she pulls out an old coffee can and pops the lid. "I'm fine. He scared the shit out of me though. Threatened me if I didn't cough you up. He searched every inch of this rat-trap and when he didn't find you, he left."

  Reaching into the can, she pulls out a roll of green and hands it to me. "It's all there if you want to count it."

  Shaking my head, I stuff the wad into the pocket of my leather jacket. "Nah... I trust you."

  I really don't trust her but I don't want to stick around. The mere thought that Juice could be watching her place is giving me the willies.

  "Thanks, Amy. I'm sorry he came here."

  I turn and head toward the door. As I reach for the knob, Amy touches my shoulder and I turn to look at her.

  "Juice may not be looking too hard for you right now, so you might be okay."

  "What do you mean?"

  "He was really bent out of shape about the fire. Said he knows who did it and they were going to pay. I'm thinking his energy is going to be focused on finding that person."

  "I doubt that. I'm pretty sure he set the fire himself."

  Amy looks at me in surprise. "No way!"

  I grab the door handle and give her a hard look. "That shit kept me chained to the bed for three days. I don't think he's above taking me out. He's fucking crazy, Amy."

  "I don't know, Rowan," she says, while shaking her head. She's completely unfazed by my statement that Juice kept me chained up. "He was really pissed about the fire."

  Is it possible that Juice didn't set the fire? I had just assumed that he was tired of keeping me chained to the bed, particularly because I was fighting him every step of the way. There wasn't a time he came into that room that I didn't curse at him for what he was doing to me. He had to have known, for sure, that I would never stay with him voluntarily.

  "Give me some paper and a pen," I tell Amy.

  When she hands over the implements, I jot my cell number down and hand it to her. "Do me a favor... call me if Juice comes back or if you hear anything, okay? I should have a replacement phone this afternoon."

  "Sure. Take care of yourself," she tells me, but I'm not sure she'd actually call me if she knew something. She'd be smart to stay far away from this, and that's what I expect her to do.

  Giving her a look of thanks, I leave Amy behind and head out to Flynn's car. When I hit the sidewalk, I look left and right, expecting Juice to jump out at me. I half run to the car and throw myself in. When the door slams shut, I tell him, "We need to go... now."

  Flynn gives me just a cursory glance, then he starts the engine and swiftly pulls away from the curb. Turning in the seat, I watch to see if anyone pulls out behind us. After a few minutes, I feel like we're in the clear and turn back around, latching my seatbelt on.

  "Want to tell me what that was about?" Flynn asks.

  I really don't, but I feel like I owe him a heads up. Juice is out there looking for me and he's pretty fucking resourceful.

  "Juice was looking for me at Amy's last night. I was afraid he might be around... watching her place."

  I watch as his jaw muscles clench and he looks in the rearview mirror. Pulling his gaze briefly away, he looks at me. "I'm not telling you to do this, but shouldn't you consider going to the cops now?"

  His words aren't even entirely out before I'm shaking my head in the negative. "No way. I don't trust them."

  "Rowan... he tried to kill you. You should take this a bit more seriously."

  Chewing on my lip, I consider what Amy said. "I'm not so sure he set the fire."

  "Why's that?"

  "It's just something Amy said. She said Juice was really freaked out by the fire and that he knew who set it."

  Flynn is quiet for a while and I stare blankly out the window while he drives. Finally, he says, "What do you believe?"

  "I don't know. Juice isn't a nice guy... He'd probably kill someone in a heartbeat. But... I don't think he wanted me dead. He just wanted me back."

  "He kidnapped
you and chained you up," he reminds me.

  "I know... I mean... I don't know. I have no clue what the hell is going on. I really just need to disappear and start over again." I hate that my words have a whiny sound to them but I'm starting to feel the pressure of my situation.

  Just this morning, I was thinking it would be cool to hang at Flynn's for a few days, absolutely positive I'd figure a way out of this mess. Now I don't know what to do. And now I have Flynn involved, and while I've known him for less than twenty-four hours, he's done so much for me that I don't want him to be at risk.

  "It's probably best if I move on, Flynn."

  I'm startled when Flynn moves one hand off the steering wheel and grabs ahold of mine. The warmth of his skin against mine immediately sets my pulse fluttering. "Absolutely not. I told you I'd help you out, and I will."

  Sighing, I squeeze his hand so I have his attention and his eyes flick to mine briefly. "No cops, though."

  He squeezes my hand back. "No cops. I promise."

  "I better go put some underwear on."

  Those words practically make me groan as I watch Rowan walk down the hall to the guest bedroom, her shopping bag filled with what I can only imagine is black lace.

  When we got to Gateway Center, she reached into her jacket and pulled out a roll of cash. She peeled off a few bills to pay me back for her thrift store purchases, and then hopped out of the car, promising she'd be back soon.

  While she was inside shopping, I tried to keep my mind off the fact that she was bare under that tiny mini-skirt and I tried not to imagine what she was buying. Instead, I tried to focus on the bigger issue... and that was what to do with Rowan. I'm bothered by the fact that she has a deranged ex-boyfriend searching for her, who may or may not have tried to murder her, but certainly was deviant enough to chain her to a bed so that he could keep her. That's about as fucked up as you can get.

  Rowan's talk about disappearing has me slightly freaked and I have no clue why. It would certainly make my life easier if she left, and I have no allegiance to her, nor do I owe her anything. Except, for some demented reason, I feel utterly compelled to see this through.

  And while this started out, no doubt, as nothing more than a manifestation of my old hero complex running amok, it's turning into something different. Now, there is not only a connection to Rowan forged out of the bizarre circumstances of her rescue, but I'm feeling a personal attraction to her as well. And not just an attraction to her beauty, although there is plenty of reasons to have me fantasizing about what lies underneath that mini-skirt, but I'm attracted to her entire character.

  Her stubborn pride has me intrigued, and her bravery in the face of some scary fucking danger makes me respect her. She's tough as nails and as beautiful as an ocean sunrise. I find that combination to border on the addictive side.

  Yes... it's too fucking late for me. I'm fully invested in seeing this through with her.

  My mind briefly goes to Marney. I don't think of her every day, but I do think of her often. I wonder if she's looking down on me now, shaking her head and thinking, "Poor bastard." While not many thoughts of Marney have me smiling, this one does.

  "What's so funny?"

  I look up and Rowan is walking back into the living room, followed by Capone. She's changed into another thrift store outfit--a pair of worn jeans and a tight, vintage t-shirt that says "Mountain Dew" on the front. The material is thin, because the t-shirt is probably older than dirt, and hugs her breasts like a glove. I'd be dead and buried not to notice her nipples are popping hard against the soft cotton and while she may have put on panties, she certainly didn't put on a bra. She's fucking sexy as hell but I really can't be thinking like that. We have more serious things to worry about.

  "When you're done staring at my boobs, want to tell me what's so funny?"

  My eyes slowly lift to hers. "You're not wearing a bra."

  Rowan smirks at me. "And you find that funny?"

  "There's never anything funny about a beautiful, bra-less woman. That's something I take very seriously," I tell her with a slight grin of my own. "But apparently, I got sidetracked from what I thought was funny."

  I'm actually startled when Rowan breaks out into a soft laugh. It's rich, warm, and filled with amusement. Completely at odds with the general taciturn nature I've seen so far.

  "Well, you better get used to it, roomie. I hate wearing bras. Too confining."

  Holding my hands up in mock surrender, I tell her, "Hey... no complaints here. In fact, I'm betting there isn't a man on this planet that would complain about it."

  She snorts as she walks by me and grabs the Donald Duck tie that I had looped over the front doorknob. "I'm going to take Capone for a quick walk."

  "And we'll talk when you get back?"

  She regards me for a moment and I can see barriers starting to form. But then, she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "You've done a lot for me, Flynn. I owe my life to you. We'll talk some when I get back."

  I watch as she bends over to knot the tie around Capone's collar. She regards me as a hero, a thought that both pleases me and scares me at the same time.

  I hope I won't be a failure to her.

  While Rowan is out walking Capone, I decide to give Tim a call. He answers on the second ring. "Man, you're missing a helluva game."

  "Damn," I respond and walk into the living room to turn the TV on. I quickly find the Jets game and mute the volume.

  "So what was so important today that you ditched me and the Sam-meister?"

  I sit down on the couch and let out a pent-up sigh. "Dude... it's a strange and fucked-up story."

  "No worries... it's almost half-time. I can lend an ear to you for a bit."

  How do I start my story with Tim? He's going to give me the same shit that Nix and Emily did, except he'll try to be more subtle about it. Outside of my family, Tim is the only one that knows what happened to Marney. He's one of the few that understand what drives me at times.

  "So, that girl that was chained to the bed yesterday?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well, she's sort of staying at my apartment for a few days."

  Tim makes sort of a low whistling sound through his teeth, which is his version of saying, What the fuck?

  Pressing on, I tell him, "I had to take her out today and get some clothes. She lost everything in the fire. That's why I had to ditch."

  "Doesn't she have any place else to go?"

  See, I knew Tim would be subtle. I read that question to mean, What the fuck are you doing bringing a strange woman to live in your apartment?

  "Nah, man. And she left the hospital with only a set of surgical scrubs to her name. She was going to sleep out on the streets with that dog of hers. I had no choice. It was the right thing to do."

  Tim is silent for just a minute, and I can tell he's choosing his next words carefully. "Flynn... buddy... she has some serious shit going on. She was chained to a bed and I don't even really want to know how that came about. Are you sure this is the wisest thing for you to do?"

  If he weren't a firefighter, Tim would make a great politician. What he's really saying is, Not only is that not the right thing to do, it was the craziest fucking move you could make.

  It's a good question and the answer is, It's probably not the wisest thing. But there is no backing away now. Like I said... I'm fully invested in helping Rowan.

  Before I can even tell Tim that, he pushes on. "Flynn... just listen to me for a second. This woman... she was chained to a bed. I can only assume that she was there against her will, and that is some serious felony shit going on. She almost dies in a house fire, so I'm thinking there may be attempted murder involved. I don't even want to think about the emotional baggage she's bringing into your life. I mean, for all you know... she could be scamming you. This is a mistake, man. I know you don't want to hear that, but I need to say it anyway."

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. It gets tiring... having my motives questioned all
the time.

  Still, it is with patience that I say, "Tim... you're my best friend, and I respect the shit out of you. But this is the right thing. She needs help and I had to fight her hard to get her to take it. But more than that... she's a good woman, Tim. She deserves to have someone on her side right now. I don't know what her background is, or what led her to this situation, and frankly, I don't give a shit. I just know that... in my heart... it's the right thing to help her."

  I can hear Tim sigh but then he proves to me why he's my best friend. "I still think it's a fucked-up situation but I trust your judgment. If you need any help, you just let me know, okay?"

  "I will. Thanks, man."

  I disconnect the call and throw my cell phone down on the couch beside me. Laying my head back, I stare at the ceiling and hope that Tim's faith in my judgment is strong enough for the both of us.

  "Hey," I hear from behind me.

  Sitting up, I look over my shoulder and see Rowan standing there with Capone. She had come in so quietly, I hadn't even heard the door open or close.

  "That was a quick walk."

  "Yeah, well, my boy here got down to business pretty fast." She unknots the tie from his collar and he pads into the kitchen for some water. After she lays the tie back over the doorknob, she walks to the couch and sits on the opposite side of me.

  After staring at the muted TV for a few seconds, she turns my way. "I caught part of your conversation... I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

  I shrug my shoulders. I wondered if she had heard any of it, but I didn't say anything to Tim that I wouldn't say to her face.

  Clasping her hands in her lap, she looks down at them, seemingly lost in thought. She promised me she'd talk to me about what was going on, and I assume she's trying to collect herself. I wait patiently.

  And I wait.

  And then I wait some more.

  I actually start watching some of the game on TV, letting my mind take a break from all the craziness that has been my life the last twenty-four hours.

  Without any warning, Rowan stands from the couch and says, "I'm hungry. How about I make us some lunch?"

  She's stalling and I know it. But I'm hungry as well so I stand up and say, "Sure. We can talk while we're eating."