8
Diversion
The third cabstopped outside a street full of unremarkable apartment buildings in central Brooklyn, the brick façades lined with rows of iron-railed and concrete balconies.
“We’ll walk the last couple blocks,” Sawyer said. “Walk normal, but not too slow.” He held Hans’s leash as he helped Lila out of the cab.
“Where exactly are we? I can’t keep with all this cab hopping.” Lila scanned the street, trying to get her bearings.
“Follow me.” Sawyer grabbed her hand and led her down the street. “Act like my girlfriend.”
Lila liked the way his hand completely enveloped hers. He walked Hans as though Hans were his; Hans didn’t normally like other people to lead him. If Lila let herself forget why they were here for just a moment, she could almost believe they were a couple. It felt so natural to be with him.
But that’s crazy, she thought. She’d just been shot at. Her parents had almost been attacked. Thank God they hadn’t been home.
She also couldn’t totally believe the fantasy, because Sawyer kept glancing over his shoulder every five seconds, his head on a constant swivel.
“Do you think we were followed?” she leaned closer. Her heart pounded, either from nerves or the proximity of her lips to his ear, she wasn’t sure anymore.
“Doubt it.” Sawyer answered. “But there’s a guy who’s been following us since we got out of the cab. Don’t look. He has a grocery sack. Could be coincidence. Turn here.” He rounded her past a corner café, in front of a row of bank windows. He looked behind him. “Stop,” he said, and tugged her into the alley, pressing her against the wall. He pulled Hans close and peered around the corner, his body pressed against hers. “Kiss me.”
“What? Why?”
Sawyer cupped her chin with his free hand, weaving his fingers into her hair as his mouth found hers. He hadn’t expected her to kiss him back more than the illusion required, as the man with the shopping bag breezed past them, but she let her lips part and met his tongue with hers. He leaned into her, pressing her harder against the wall. When he was sure the man had actually walked far enough away, he pulled back, reluctantly.
“Wow,” he said, his hand still on her face.
Lila stared up at him, holding her breath. Her body tingled from the electrifying kiss.
“I think he’s gone now,” Sawyer finally said, stepping back. “We can go.” He took her hand again and tugged her out of the alley and back onto the sidewalk. Lila stumbled, in a daze. Hans trotted out happily, his tail wagging.
Sawyer led her two more blocks to the front steps of another apartment. He punched a code into the front panel, and the door buzzed open.
“Is this your place?”
Sawyer held the door for her, then guided her up to the second floor. He unlocked a door close to the stairwell and ushered her into an apartment decorated like a bland hotel room.
“Safe house. Your parents are in one, too.”
“Why can’t I be with them?” Lila stood next to the tight galley kitchen as Hans ran across the room to sniff the couch.
“Better to have you separated. Wait here.” Sawyer swept through the one-bedroom apartment, checking out the windows, under the two beds, and behind the shower curtain. “Ok,” he said. “Settle in.”
“Settle in?”
“Unless you have somewhere to be.” Sawyer checked the cupboards and the fridge, before taking out a can of soda. “Thirsty?”
Lila shook her head. “How long do I have to stay here?”
“Until the police catch the guy who just tried to shoot you,” he said. “Besides, it’s not like you can go home. He broke your window.” He popped the top on the can and drank.
“I don’t have clothes. Or a toothbrush. Or dog food.”
Sawyer took a notepad out of a drawer and handed it to her. “Make a list of what you need. Start with two days’ worth. Rusty will have food delivered tonight. Unless you say otherwise, he always sends pizza.”
“What will I do?” Lila took in the apartment. Magazines sat stacked on the coffee table next to an ash tray. A television hung on the wall. Paperback novels and DVDs lined the media cabinet beneath it.
“Got any shows you want to catch up on?” Sawyer sat on the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table.
