She scoffs. “Codependent? Don’t be so rude. I am an independent woman,” she demands.
“Mm. Very independent. So independent that you can’t stay away from me.” I wink at her as I climb in and start the car.
We pull out of the gas station and back onto the road, turning toward the beachfront.
“Where are you taking me for lunch, smart-ass?” she huffs, smiling.
“Maybeyoushould takemefor lunch, seeing as you’re such a strong, independent woman?”
“Oh, shush,” she laughs, punching my shoulder.
Our banter carries on, back and forth, playful and light-hearted.
I think about myself and who I am around her.
She’s changed me in a lot of ways. I’m not generally known to be this playful. Even my own family mocks me for being too stern and uptight. Grumpy, that’s what they call me. I’m not grumpy, though, not specifically. Maybe just strict because I need to be in my role as head of the family. And I certainly need to be so around clients and business partners.
But around Stef, I’m a completely different version of myself.
In fact, around Stef, I can justbe myself.No pretense, no wall of protection. Just me, letting go and having fun with someone who brings the best out in me.
“Seafood sounds amazing. And a view of the ocean,” she agrees when I tell her where I want to take her.
“You’ll love the decor too. The whole place is pink-themed. But it’s done in a way that doesn’t insult my masculine senses.”
“Masculine senses?” she bursts out laughing. “Don’t they say that real men wear pink?”
“I’ve heard that. Do you think I should get a pair of pink pants?” I suggest, raising my brows.
“Oh, no, I can’t see you in pink pants,” she laughs.
Behind me, tires scream against tar as someone skids across the road, barely missing us.
“Fuck,” I growl, seeing a man lean out of the window with an assault rifle tucked into his shoulder, pointing right at our car.
“Get down,” I shout, tugging the car to the left as Stef sinks low in her seat, obeying me instantly.
Bullets smack into the side of the armor-plated doors.
She screams in fright and covers her ears. I want to hold her and tell her it’s going to be ok, but my job right now is to get us away from here, somewhere safe.
The attack intensifies when a second car arrives. I can’t do anything to fight back, not when I’m alone with her like this. My best chance is to outmaneuver them and lose them in the back streets. I know this city well enough to do that.
Now and then, Stef lets out a yelp of fright when I turn a corner sharply, sending her skidding into the door or into me.
“Just hold on, we’ve almost lost them,” I shout over the mayhem of the chase.
Behind me, one of the cars takes a corner too wide and slams into a light post, wrapping its bonnet around it. There’s no way they survived that. The front half of the car literally folded.
One down. One to go.
I weave in and out of side streets, avoiding heavily trafficked roads with many pedestrians. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt in this situation. The guy stays close on my tail, taking a few shots whenever he has a chance, but finally, he gets stuck behind a bus that crosses at exactly the right time, and I manage to get ahead enough to make a few turns without him.
I know the attackers are still close, so instead of trying to outrun them any longer, I take advantage of what I have and drive into an underground parking area.
I park the car in a dark spot near the back, between a van and a landcover, two cars big enough to hide us.
Switching off the engine, I sit in silence, listening intently.
