by Linda Kage
“Flu,” I said distractedly, wondering if I could open the saltine box and maybe just take one sleeve of crackers, even as I stuffed the pain relievers into my too-small purse, then the chicken noodle soup into the pocket of my hoodie.
The man held out his hand. “Give me the tissues.”
I looked up in alarm. Oh shit, was he going to prevent me from taking anything? Why hadn’t I considered that possibility?
Probably because he’d just covered for me to his mother, and he had his own unknown ulterior motive for breaking into her house.
God, I was so stupid for blindly trusting him.
But then he opened his jacket, flashing me the insides. “I can probably hide them here.”
My mouth fell open. “You…” I shook my head. “Wait, you’re going to help me?”
He met my gaze, dead serious, no longer arrogant or sarcastic. “Why not? You worked your ass off for these.” Then he lifted one eyebrow until it arched in that snarky little bend I was becoming all too familiar with. “Isn’t that how you put it?”
Oh, wow.
For the first time since meeting him, his acerbic manner didn’t grate on my last nerve. I just blinked at him, beginning to see a vague glimpse of the man beneath. And I realized it was all a front. He expertly hid his true self behind taunting barbs and haughty expressions. There was more to him than the asshole he tried to convince people he was.
How incredibly unusual.
He motioned toward my stolen goodies with one finger. “The tissues would be in that rectangular-shaped cardboard box right there,” he explained unnecessarily, having way too much fun talking down to me.
Damn, he was really good at playing the sarcastic jerk. Except this time, I saw the compassion behind his supercilious ruse.
“Uh…” Shaking my head to clear it because I was still discombobulated by this turn of events, I grabbed the tissues without hissing at him for his rude crack and I handed them over, murmuring, “Sorry. Here.”
He frowned at me in confusion, then tipped his head to the side as his eyes narrowed distrustfully. But even as he took the tissues, he added, “The soup too. You can probably conceal the soda in your front hoodie pouch, if it’s the only thing in there.”
He had a point. Nodding, I removed the can from my hoodie’s pocket. “Okay. Thank you.”
The thank you actually made him rear his face back in shock. This time, he refused to take the can from me, just eyed it as if I was offering him poison instead. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he hissed.
“What do you mean?” Lowering my voice, I gaped at him. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”
I thrust the chicken noodle soup at him again. Why didn’t he just take the damn can before his mother showed up in the closet too, wondering why the hell we were taking so long?
He glanced toward the opening of the closet as well before turning back to me and whispering harshly, “You’re acting weird.”
“Oh my God.” My eyebrows shot sky high. “You’ve known me five fucking minutes. How do you know what my weird is? And besides, this is frankly a weird, super unreal situation. How else am I supposed to act?”
My irritated answer, along with the scowl I sent him, seemed to settle him again. His shoulders relaxed and his features lost their alert confusion.
“Well, your compliance was at odds with the first four minutes and forty-five seconds of our association,” he explained.
Wow, he didn’t respond well to politeness, did he?
But compliance? Did he seriously just call me compliant? Way to make me sound like a submissive little lap poodle.
Maybe his pomposity wasn’t entirely an act after all. He was probably a genuine asshole with just a small side serving of kind.
Narrowing my eyes, I bit out from between gritted teeth, “You were helping me. I was being grateful. But don’t worry; I’m over it now.”
“Good,” he bit out. “We don’t have time for that bullshit, anyway.”
My mouth fell open. Gah, maybe the glimpse of kindness I’d seen had been the true ruse.
“We have to get everything out of sight before she walks back here,” he went on as if I didn’t already know that.
Even though he had a point, I rolled my eyes, hating it when people stated the obvious to me. But, “Fine,” I muttered, tossing him the can of chicken noodle soup so abruptly he had to fumble to catch it. “Just so you know, though, I think I might hate you.”
“You and a million others,” he answered distractedly as the soup disappeared inside his jacket without a trace. “Now open the saltines. We’ll have to divide that between the two of us.”
I wanted to deny him so bad—out of spite—but since it was the very same idea I’d had too, I settled for snarling, “That’s what I was going to do.”
Ripping the box open, I glared his way and watched him straighten the sleeves of his jacket as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Bastard.
“Here.” I shoved half the saltines his way.
Jaw hard and eyes narrowed with disdain, he mirrored my expression as he took them and tucked them up his jacket sleeves. I followed suit, hiding my two stacks of crackers inside the baggy arms of my hoodie.
“What about the trash sack and empty cracker box?” I said when I realized it would probably be bad to leave them behind in the closet for his mother to find later.
“Give them here.”
I handed everything over without a word, and he worked quickly to flatten the empty box of saltines and then wad the bag into a ball before he lifted the tails of his suit jacket and tucked them both into the back of his pants. He’d just lowered the jacket back into place, when a voice barked from the opening of the closet.
“What the hell is taking so long?”
I sucked in a surprised gasp, while the man stepped in front of me as if to shield me from his mother. Protecting me.
“I was trying to talk her into a quickie,” he answered smoothly. “But she was resisting.”
He really did know exactly what to say to needle a person most. It made me realize he’d purposely turned so rude to me a moment ago because he knew it would erect that wall between us again and conceal the person he didn’t want me to see he was.
It was as if the man actually preferred to have people dislike him.
“Just get out of my apartment,” his mother snapped, glaring. “I don’t like it when you show up uninvited.”
“Of course.” Reaching behind him, he snagged my hand, knowing exactly where it was without looking. “And as always, it was simply lovely to see you again.”
She snorted as he began to pull me from the room. But when the woman turned her glare my way, she blinked in surprise and held up a hand.
“Wait a second.” She stepped in front of us as she pointed at my face, then took in my hoodie and yoga pants I was wearing. “You’re that insolent maid.”
I wrinkled my nose. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not. I tried to tell you I wasn’t a maid, but you—”
The woman dismissed me and whirled toward her son. “You weren’t with her when I opened the door and found her loitering in the hall earlier.” She sounded accusative.
He shrugged before smoothly answering, “I had to stop by the bathroom first. She was waiting for me outside your door when you opened up and accosted her with your carpet-cleaning demands.”
The apartment’s owner narrowed her eyes and sliced a suspicious glance between the two of us. She seemed to be thinking too hard, trying to find holes in our story, and it probably wouldn’t take long before she bumped across a couple dozen of them, so the man said, “But since you refuse to help us and lend a dress, we’re leaving now.”
“But—”
“Thanks for nothing,” he added, dragging me past her and out of the closet, through the bathroom and bedroom, then down the bright, white hall and into the front room.
A relieved breath hissed from me as soon as he reached for the
handle to the exit. We were going to make it. Freedom was on the other side of that door, and the woman behind us would never be the wiser to the fact that we’d just stolen from her. Well, I had stolen, but her son was most definitely assisting me.
The man pulled the door open, and we both surged forward, only to lurch to a halt when we found our way blocked by a maid who stood there with a cleaning caddy in one hand, and her other raised, poised to ring the bell.
Eyes widening, she tripped backward away from us, immediately apologizing. “I—I’m so sorry. Is this a bad time? I can come back later.”
“The hell you will,” the apartment owner commanded, storming up behind us and nudging me aside so she could grab the maid and haul her into the apartment. “Are you seriously just now getting here to deal with my stain?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I came as soon as I—”
“My carpet is ruined by now, you worthless—”
“I cleaned it,” I blurted, unable to continue watching her berate the poor, innocent maid.
In response, the witch zipped her attention to me. Narrowing her eyes on me, she pushed the maid back into the hall without even looking at her, and she slammed the door in her face.
Then she stepped closer. “You did what?”
Her son leaned in until he captured her attention. “I believe she said she cleaned the carpet.”
Her gaze zipped between the two of us before she sniffed. “Is this some kind of joke?”
He squinted. “Why would cleaning a carpet be even remotely funny?”
“Why would some floozy of yours clean my carpet?”
“Maybe because she’s not a floozy. And…” He lifted an eyebrow. “You asked her to.”
His mother’s eyes only narrowed more.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Losing his patience, he snapped, “She’s my date. So she was trying to be nice to my mother in order to impress me. Is that so hard to believe?”
She stared him down a moment longer before saying, “Yes.”
“Wow,” he murmured breathlessly. “And people wonder why I have all the issues I do.”
“I’m not paying her.” The witch’s gaze moved to me. “I’m not paying you for what you did,” she stated directly.
Wow, indeed, I wanted to echo. But instead, I nodded and hugged the loot hidden away under my clothes even closer to my body. “Fine,” I said, lifting my chin a little. “I wasn’t looking for payment.” Not anything else, anyway.
The woman seemed at a loss. But then she repeated, “Fine,” and motioned toward the door. “You may go.”
“But we were having so much fun in your company,” the man next to me smarted back.
Oh my God. Gripping his arm and accidentally causing the sleeve of saltines he had hidden up there to crinkle, I cleared my throat to mask the sound, and said, “Let’s go, darling. I can borrow a dress from my neighbor.”
He allowed me to lead him into the hall, but as soon as his mother slammed the door behind us, he took control, steering the way we went. I glanced behind me, afraid she was going to find her things missing and come racing after us, demanding recompense, but the bejeweled door remained firmly closed.
We’d done it. Holy shit. We’d really done it.
We’d escaped without getting caught.
Chapter 8
Gabby
I had no idea where the man was taking me. I just blindly followed along, still clutching his sleeve as he strode down the hall, leaving his mother’s apartment far behind.
It didn’t occur to me that we could part ways now, not until he’d pushed through a side exit and paused us beside a nice, tan-colored sedan sitting next to the curb. And still, I stuck by him.
“You can put your things back in here now,” he murmured, tugging the crinkled sack from the back waistband of his pants and snapping it open.
I nodded without speaking. After slipping in the bottle of soda and saltines, I glanced up to watch him remove everything from his person and toss them into the bag as well. Then he tied it closed with a knot and opened the back door of the car next to us. After shutting it away inside, he opened the front passenger side door, and glanced at me, telling me to get inside with a single tip of his head.
I didn’t say anything in return. I just got into the car. I have no idea why I did that. I didn’t know this man at all, and I wasn’t naturally a trusting person, but declining his silent offer for a ride wasn’t even an option. He could be taking me anywhere with all sorts of depraved intentions in mind. And yet, I trusted him.
He shut the door, closing me momentarily alone inside the car as he walked around to the driver’s side. In that brief moment by myself, I drew in a deep breath, inhaling the fresh scent of leather seats. Then I closed my eyes and hugged myself, bone-deep certain nothing was going to hurt me while I sat there.
But then the driver’s side door opened, and a gust of chilly October breeze entered with it, causing me to shudder from the cold as the man slid in beside me. As soon as he shut the door, my ears began to ring from the silence between us, until he started the engine and clicked his seatbelt into place.
“Where did you park your car?” he asked.
I shook my head as I followed suit, fastening my belt as well. “I don’t have one. I walked.”
He didn’t answer, only nodded and pulled out into traffic.
I began to wring my hands in my lap, uncomfortable by the silence. He didn’t even turn on the radio.
Did he not believe in music? Why did it have to be so quiet?
The tension in me spiked as he completely ignored me, concentrating on driving.
So I blurted, “What now?”
After a brief glance my way, he flicked on his blinker before making a left hurt. “Now,” he answered. “I take you home.”
I shook my head, confused. “Why?” I said, trying to make sense of the entire night.
“Well, if you’d rather come home with me,” he started, his glance more mocking than flirty.
I rolled my eyes. “I mean, why did you help me back there?” I waved a hand as he slowed to a stop at a red light. “Why are you still helping me?”
Glancing my way, he shook his head. “I’m sorry; did you want to go to jail tonight? Because that’s what would’ve happened if she’d caught on to the fact that you were stealing from her. Or that you weren’t there with me. She would’ve had no mercy about it either. You cross that woman—even in the slightest, most minor and harmless of ways—and she destroys your life completely. I’ve seen her do it, over and over again, to person after person. It would’ve taken her nothing to crush you.”
Well, then.
Holy shit.
I swallowed, trying to ignore the cold icicle of dread that sliced its way straight down the back of my hoodie.
Then I glanced toward the other side of the car. “You didn’t answer my question. Why did you help me? I’m nothing to you. And you’re the one who caught me red-handed stealing from her. You, of all people, know I deserved to be punished.”
He snorted and shook his head, pressing on the gas when the light turned green. “Thrown behind bars for taking chicken noodle soup to help your sick brother? Yes, you’re such a hard-core criminal. Release the rapists, murderers, and child molesters; we need to make room in the penitentiary for monsters like you.”
“Funny,” I said dryly. “But seriously? Why should it matter to you what happens to me? You have no dog in this fight. You have no reason to go out of your way to help me.”
He glanced at me sardonically. “I take it you didn’t buy my proposal back there, so you probably wouldn’t believe it was all because of love at first sight.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Not hardly.”
When he didn’t spit back some smart-ass comment, but remained quiet, unease filled my stomach, reminding me I didn’t know this man. I did know what his mother was like, though, and that wasn’t good. Shit. If he tried to blackmail me into doing some kind of sexual
favor just to gain his silence, I’d—
“Fine,” he grumbled, slowing the car and pulling to the curb before parking. Then he turned in his seat to rest his forearm on the steering wheel and face me completely.
“No,” he said with all seriousness. “I didn’t have to help you, but if I hadn’t, then I would’ve been more like her than I ever want to be. And I’d rather burn in hell than be like my mother. So, it felt as if I really fucking had to help you, all right? Now, would you like to keep sitting here, questioning my motives all night, or do you want to go inside and take care of your sick brother already?”
“I—” I wasn’t even sure what I was going to reply. He just had that tone in his voice—that irritating, challenging, superior tone that always made me want to fight back against a person. But then I realized what he’d said about Miguel, and I finally grew cognizant of my surroundings. Growing alarmed, I sat up straight in my seat and glanced out the side window, only to blink in disbelief.
“What the hell?” I said, turning back to him and pointing over my shoulder to the building we sat beside. “Why did you bring me here?”
Squinting through the dark, he leaned my way and ducked his face just enough to look out my passenger side window. Then he glanced at me with a slight, confused shake of his head. “Isn’t this where you live?”
“You…” I shook my head slowly before I spat, “Yes! But you weren’t supposed to know that. How the hell did you know where I live?”
His gaze wandered around my face. Leaning toward me as he was, he seemed impossibly close. Impossibly real.
My lips parted as I took in every detail of his eyes, and nose, and jawline. A few light freckles speckled his cheekbones. For a man who acted so hard, he sure had some soft features. Adorable features.
That wasn’t supposed to be possible.
My attention traveled to his lips as I remembered how nice they’d felt against mine, just as he said, “Oh, but weren’t you aware? The devil knows everything.” Then he reached up and touched a piece of hair that was resting against my cheek before tucking it behind my ear and adding, “Gabby.”