“Your instrument. It’s with us. In the back, as requested with its stand and your music. Stored safely as was required on your— as the information on your file.”
As per the rules.
His unspoken words are loud, regardless. I hear them. So, I think, does he. Hendrick frowns and looks away. Uncertainty or irritation crosses his face that doesn’t match the color of his eyes.
“Yes.” Another word. Three. A record. “Where?” Four, and fading. That's all I can push out for now.
Hendrick’s attention switches back to me. “I heard you. Back in the alley. After the shot. You tried to tell them. No one heard.”
You did.I can’t speak, but he seems to understand a little more, now. Maybe not everything, but some things.
“We’ll drive for a while. Then we will have to walk.” He looks down at my feet in my white ankle boots that poke out from beneath my beaded white dress. “They might take damage.”
I shrug, uncaring. The dress is ruined. I feel bad for the designer who will need to make another to replace this one that was on loan. I will pay her anyway, double for the use.
His head tilts to the side. “Your luggage will arrive tomorrow, along with your team. I left them behind.” His mouth shuts, and he returns to watching me, blatant and unapologetic.
He breaks all the rules. He’s direct. He’s terrifying.
I…love it.
“Than–” I rasp and cough, my knuckles pressing to my mouth as my air expires. A shake of my head, because I can’t say more.
Hendrick doesn’t move or offer my sympathy. This part of him is almost robotic. I gulp water from the chiller in the door, spilling some over the front of the dress, watering down the bloodstain that trickles lower.
The energy of the performance, the night, the shooting—everything crashes down over me. I don’t need to check the time to know it’s after midnight. He said an hour, didn’t he? So I have that time to nap. I clutch my water bottle and lean my head back. I hope wherever we go, it’s so far away that my team will never find us.
But that’s the sort of dream that got me into trouble in the first place.
Warmth seeps into me, more than the blanket Hendrick’s jacket made earlier. My dress is still soggy over my stomach, where I dribbled water. I hope the blood doesn't get onto my skin too much, but I guess it’s too late for that.
Water. Blood. Shooting?—
I launch upward, a mangled cry tearing at my throat even as I clamp my hands over my mouth. Tears—a reaction from so long ago—flood my eyes. The earth clings to me at every angle, and I can’t get free. Kicking, my dress tangles about my ankles. Something solid makes a great target, right up until it grunts.
“Easy, princess,” it growls.
I stop. Turn carefully.
And come face to face with Hendrick, who is closer than I have had any other human for so many years that I’ve lost count.
Because he’s carrying me.
Twice in one day his skin has pressed to mine. First, using his body as a shield, now for warmth and?—
His steps are sure and firm as we travel over rocky terrain. I peer over my shoulder at the blue tinged landscape that resembles a moon landing. Everything is dark and light at once. A glance upward confirms it’s still the middle of the night. The same night. And he’s walking me across what looks like a desert also in the middle of nowhere.
“Do you want me to put you down?” His chin, rough with stubble, brushes my temple in an attempt to draw my attention away from the nightscape and back to him.
Blue, blue. Everything is blue.
The arms loosen, and he slowly lowers me to the ground, or at least, my feet door. Once those contact and I’m standing, his arms disappear. The loss of him leaves cold spots all over me. I wrap myself in a single person hug but the thin performance dress was never created with a Texan desert night in mind.
Hendrick curses softly, and drapes his jacket back around my shoulders, tuck my arms into the sleeves like I’m his personal doll. My throat aches from the few words that I’ve spoken, and I can’t tell him that this is more contact than I’ve had with any other person for an age.
A lifetime.
Since…
