She’s angry and frustrated, but she’s trying like hell to hide it. Giving a resigned sigh, she says, “I need to do a few things later. I’ll be back in time to cook supper, though.” She waits a second and adds, “You said you added yourself to my contacts, but how did you do that?”
“One, two, three, four,kiska. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Pick a better number for your passcode.”
“Did you look through my phone?”
The horrified look on her face makes me laugh. I refill my coffee before turning my back on her and going to the spare room that I made into an office. Sitting at the large desk, I pull up the file Pavel sent me with the information I’d asked him for. I read everything that’s here, learning all about Maddie and her mom, Kristy. Turns out her dad split when she was little, leaving her and her mom all alone. Kristy never remarried, not surprising since the poor woman spent all her time working, trying to earn enough to provide for her and her daughter. The photos Pavel attached paint a pretty clear picture. They may have struggled, but the love between mother and daughter is obvious to see. Kristy’s cancer diagnosis must’ve threatened to destroy them both. When I’m done reading, I start writing an email to my lawyer, asking him to create a foundation and then to let Kristy Montgomery know that she’s been chosen to be the recipient of the large fund. I also ask him to find me the best oncologist in the city and to inform the doctor of who his new patient is.
Satisfied, I shut the laptop and stare out the window, refusing to question why I felt the need to do all this. Everyone is capable of a good deed now and then. Even me. The sound of the front door closing has me grabbing my phone so I can pull up the tracker I put on her Jeep. I watch the little dot until I know which direction she’s headed. When I get to the garage, I grab my black motorcycle helmet. My car is way too recognizable, and I don’t want her to know I’m following her.
Ivan is at the guard booth this morning. He gives me a nod as he lets me through, and as soon as I’m clear of the gate, I rev the engine and speed down the road. I love my Camaro, but the bike is just as much fun. I weave through the cars, quickly catching up to Maddie. I hang back, keeping several cars between us and follow her when she turns off the main highway. After reading her file this morning, I quickly realize she’s on the way to her mom’s. Before we get there, she stops off at a coffee shop, coming out a few minutes later with two cups and a small bag. It only takes a couple more minutes before she’s stopping in front of a row of townhouses. I park down the street, watching her balance the cups and bag. She shoulders the Jeep’s door shut and quickly runs up to the last townhouse, the one with a vivid red door and window boxes filled with blooming daisies. Unable to reach her keys, she gives the red door a couple of soft kicks, laughing when her mom opens it.
They disappear inside, and I sit and wait. There are a lot of things I could be doing, but I can’t bring myself to start my bike and leave. When the second hour of waiting starts, I begin to seriously question the life choices I’ve made today. I’m about to lose what little patience I have when the door finally opens and Maddie steps out. Her mom pulls her in for one last hug, and even from this distance, I can see how frail she looks. She’s a beautiful woman, but the cancer is taking a toll on her. Based on what I read in her file, I’m confident a skilled oncologist and the right treatment plan will make all the difference.
Maddie gets back in her Jeep and drives off while I follow behind her. She pulls into the parking lot of the same grocery store I went to the other night and parks at the end of an aisle, not even attempting to get a closer spot. I’ve never seen anyone do that. Most people will weave up and down the aisles at least once. Maddie just slid into the last spot like it was the one she’d been hoping for all along. I pull into a space and watch her get out and walk by. She turns her head, locking eyes with me. All she can see is a black helmet. From the angle she’s at, she can’t even see enough of me to recognize my shirt. She still freezes in place, though. I smile at her, even though she can’t see it, giving a soft laugh when she quickly turns away and speeds her steps up, practically jogging into the damn store.
No way in fuck am I waiting out in the hot parking lot this time, so I take my helmet off and follow her inside. Staying back, I watch her push the cart into one of the aisles, admiring the perfect curve of her ass before she disappears from view. I’m not the only one who’s noticed her. The guy who’s ogling the same ass I am, meets my eyes and then quickly looks away when he sees how pissed I am.
Keeping my distance, I follow her as she shops, noticing the way she tries to shop for bargains, even though I know she has the money I gave her. Most of the stuff she gets are knock-off brands, and she even takes the time to grab a few coupons that the store has hanging from certain items. She pauses in front of a display of honey. She eyes the bottles, taking a few down and reading the labels. Her fingers pause at the price tag before she gives a small shake of her head and puts them back.
After she’s left, I grab four of the bottles and keep following her. When she’s satisfied she has everything, she picks a line and then reads the tabloids until it’s her turn to check out. I nearly lose my shit when she makes two piles. She uses the cash I gave her to pay for most of it, and then hands over her debit card to pay for a box of tampons, some face wash, and lotion, throwing in a York Peppermint Pattie at the last minute.
I’m fuming by the time I pay for the honey, at least the woman working doesn’t look at me like I’m going to rob the whole damn store like the last cashier did. Storing the honey beneath my seat, I wait for Maddie to leave and then follow. I know where she’s going, so this time when we hit the highway, I speed up, weaving through traffic until I’m passing her. I turn my head, meeting her surprised look, knowing she recognizes me from the parking lot but not sure if she’s put it all together yet. I’ve caught her mid-bite, the silver wrapper of her York only inches from her mouth. I laugh before revving the engine and leaving her behind. I’m already in the house by the time she pulls in the driveway.
I walk out to help her unload. When she sees me, she narrows her eyes at me. “Were you following me?”
Filling my hands with bags, I ask, “Why? See someone who reminded you of me? What did they look like?”
“It was definitely you.” She grabs the last of the bags and follows me inside. “I wasn’t sure in the parking lot, but I recognized your clothes and tattoos when you passed me on the way back. Plus, I could just sense the smirk you were giving me, even if I couldn’t see it.”
I laugh and set everything on the island, right next to the bottles of honey. When she sees them, her eyes widen. “Holy shit. You followed me the whole time?”
“I told you someone would be watching you every time you leave this house.” Pressing my hands against the island on either side of her, I invade her space and lean down so our faces are closer. “Why didn’t you use the money I gave you to pay for everything?”
“What? Oh my god, you have way too much time on your hands, Volodya. I paid for a couple of things because they’re just for me.”
“I gave you money,” I say again.
“Why the hell do you want to pay for my tampons?”
I lean closer. “I just do. From now on, everything that comes into this house is paid for by me, including tampons and lotion and York Peppermint Patties and whatever the fuck else you need, and I better not ever see you eyeing something you want and then not getting it.”
Holding up one of the bottles of honey, I ask, “Why didn’t you get this?”
She looks uncomfortable and ducks her head. I hook a finger under her chin, tilting her back up to me.
“God, you’re invasive. There is such a thing as personal space, you know?”
I run my thumb over her jaw, keeping her held in my grip and step closer, crowding her space even more, proving to her that there is no such thing as personal space when it comes to us.
“Answer my question,” I tell her.
“It’s expensive,” she finally says.
“You had well over a thousand dollars for groceries, and I told you I’ll give you more when you go through that, so why didn’t you get it?”
“Because it was just for me, so I wasn’t going to take it from your money, and my funds are low, okay?”
She says the last word with a bit of attitude, and I have to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. “Do you have Venmo?”
