“Turn here,”she says ten minutes later, pointing at a dark road just ahead. It’s in the worst part of Silver Spoon Falls, where most of the old houses are vacant, and the only apartment complex should have been condemned a long fucking time ago. The only people who still live out here are the ones trying to hide.
I make the turn in silence, my knuckles white around the steering wheel.
“I live in the complex up ahead,” she murmurs. “The building on the right.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, tempted to turn right back around and drive off with her. She shouldn’t be staying here. No one should. “You live alone?”
“Why?” she asks, her voice rife with suspicion.
“Because the only people who live out here are the kind of people who spend more time in prison than they do outside of it, Saoirse,” I growl as the truck bounces over a pothole big enough to classify as a crater in the road. “It’s not safe.”
“I’m aware,” she mutters, crossing her arms. “But not everyone can afford to live on a fancy ranch or drive a fancy truck, Flint. This town may be full of millionaires, but not all of us are that lucky. Some of us actually struggle.”
“You’re a teacher.”
“Do you think they pay us millions?” She narrows her eyes at me, her expression shadowed in the dim light. “It’s my first year teaching. I make less than fifty thousand a year, and I have student loans and living expenses. This is what I can afford, so stop being rude.”
“Rude?” I scowl over at her. “Rude would be spanking your pretty little ass for living here, Sugar Plum. What I am is concerned. You aren’t staying here.”
“Uh, yes, I am.”
“The hell you are,” I growl. “You’re coming home with me.”
She bends forward, rummaging in the floorboard.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to find my purse so I can get my Taser,” she says, her voice sweet as pie.
“Fuck me.” I pull to the side of the road just outside her complex, putting the truck in park. “You'd better hope that little toy of yours knocks me out if you use it, Saoirse. If it doesn’t, I’ll have you bent over my knee with my hand on your ass before you can even say my name.”
“You wouldn’t,” she hisses.
“Try me.”
Even in the dark, I can feel her glower. She’s mad as hell. And shit, maybe she has that right. Maybe I’m acting like an asshole, trying to tell her what to do. But the thought of leaving her here is about to give me a goddamn heart attack. She’s too sweet, too perfect to be on her own in a place like this when I wouldn’t even let one of our cowboys stay here.
“You’re coming home with me,” I say quietly. “I have an entire guest room that’s not in use. You can stay there until you find somewhere safer.”
“I can’t afford somewhere safer!” she cries.
“I’ll handle it.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“You do. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”
She makes a sound that’s half-laugh, half-indignant squawk.
“Listen,” I murmur, trying to think rationally before she really does press her Taser to my balls and kill any hope of her ever having my babies. Wait, what?Jesus H. Christ.Am I seriously thinking about her pregnant with my kid? Yes, yes, I am. And if I want that to happen, I need to make it happen. I think fast. “Whoever hired you has all of your information. And you know that they’re up to some shit that’s probably illegal. If they decide you’re a threat, there’s nothing stopping them from coming looking for you. The last place you need to be is here right now.”
Will they come looking? I doubt it. Chances are, they’re already skipping town with their shitty movie dreams and their fucked up hiring process. But if I’m wrong about that, I’d rather her be somewhere else, where neighbors actually pay attention when they hear screaming. If she’s with me, she’s safe. Maybe I have ulterior motives, maybe. But at least she won’t be out here on her own, stressing me the fuck out.
She’s silent for a long, tense moment, and then, “Do you really think they’ll come looking?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Do you really want to risk it?”
“No,” she whispers, deflating beside me. “I guess I don’t.”
