“Nah, nobody cares about us like this,” he said, and with a glance at him, I could see he was manspreading his big legs out and his arms wide across the back of the bench. I’d never seen someone who had zero care about how the world saw him. Even if the world was looking for him, Jacques was open, ready for it. His confidence was sexy.
“Opening your legs for business?” I giggled, pulling the plastic bag to my lap.
“You’ve been getting such a sassy mouth lately,” he said.
“It’s either this or I go insane,” I confessed. “And I do not want to go insane.”
“Me either, kitten.”
I handed him a croissant. I didn’t know which one—they were all fun ones, some filled with chocolate, others with almonds. It reminded me of Oh Crumbsin Sugar Bay. They had really nice croissants filled with pistachio creme. I almost dribbled at the thought. I pushed the scarf up over my nose as it was also beginning to leak.
“When this is over, we’ll go somewhere warm,” he said, screwing up the croissant, almost deflating it, then taking a big bite. “Where do you think?”
“Thailand,” I said. “I went after graduating and it was gorgeous. The beaches. The sun. Ah.” I really didn’t like being cold.
“Deal,” he said. “We’ll go there once this is all over. But we’ve still got to wait for the hearing.”
I sank into the bench seat. My team had told me it could be months until then. Victor was avoiding every little attempt at legal action. “I wish it would happen already,” I mumbled.
“I can reach out to some people if you want,” he said. “Maybe take some of the attention.”
“Bait Victor out,” I said, it just came off my tongue.
He laughed. “You’d be best at that.”
True. I would. He wanted me dead. I bet he’d do anything to make it happen, even coming out of his hidey hole to do it. “I have an idea.”
“No,” he said. “You’re not being used as bait, Ez. You are staying with me, and alive. I’m not having your life put in jeopardy because you’re bored. We just have to sit tight and wait.” I watched as he spoke, and it looked like it pained him. The Jacques I knew and the Reaper I’d heard about was all action, no waiting around, just shoot and go. I had to appeal to that side of him.
“Hear me out,” I said, sipping my coffee. It was a little colder now, but still a rush of caffeine.
“I don’t need to hear you out, Ez. You’re not being bait.”
I pouted at him. Even though he wasn’t looking, I wanted him to see my pleasing face. “I thought I was your kitten,” I said, all soppy. “Pweese.”
“If it—”
“It won’t involve me being hurt,” I said, cutting to it. “It’s a bit out there, but—”
“Go on,” he said, turning his head slowly, as if he was forced to.
“You know that fighting dummy, the one you don’t use?”
Jacques scoffed. “I would, if there was room to get into it.”
“We dress the dummy up to look like me. We basically give them the place, not exactly where we’re staying, but like,here?” I shrugged. “Maybe. Then they come, they shoot, they report. We could even—”
“Put some red dye packs on it,” he added, smiling. See! I knew he’d like the idea if he heard it. And it would actually put that poor training dummy to some use. “I think we might be able to get somewhere with that idea. But you’ll have to run it by your team, and we—” He paused, and dusting the croissant crumbs off his jacket, he looked at his watch. “We have to get back. They’re bringing the tree soon, and there could be a letter.”
“What if I call them now?”
“You don’t have a phone on you.”
“From a payphone,” I said. “We could breadcrumb it.”
Jacques stare grew intense. “I’m gonna need you to stop watching so much real crime on the TV,” he said.
I had binged a lot of TV, to the point I could sit for six hours and watch one of thosefull seasons.I hated that about TV now. A full season used to be twenty-two episodes, but now it was eight.
