After last night, something tells me he isn’t going to let me go without a fight. So, I need to stay a few steps ahead of him and slip away before he realizes I’m gone. I just need to take care of a few things—one of which is pretty easily solved with a quick text.
mermaidav: Will you take care of SB for me? I’m leaving town for a bit, but I’ll come by to drop him off and chat with you before I go.
NoBody: Sounds like you probably know what I need to talk to you about, then. Yeah, okay enana. Be careful. Talk soon.
As much as I want to bring my cat with me, it’ll be a lot easier to lie low if I don’t have to worry about him. I don’t want him getting hurt, so I’ll send for him when I’m settled. If only my other responsibilities were settled so easily.
There’s a reason Abuela is in the system with a different last name than me—and it has nothing to do with my stupid bio-dad and his legacy. I’ve been paying for her care from a dummy account with money that gets cleaned overseas. No one will be able to connect her to me unless they know me personally, and I picked a care facility with the strictest visiting rules I could find. No one gets in to see her unless they’re approved.
Dread and guilt twist in the pit of my stomach because it doesn’t feel like enough to keep her safe, but it’s the best I can do. She’ll be okay. I just hope she remembers our conversation. It makes me feel sick that she might wake up next week, wondering where I am.
As I make my way down the hallways of Sunset Hills, I see Manny isn’t at the nursing station. So when I approach Abuela’s room and hear masculine laughter, it brings a smile to my face. Some of the nauseating anxiety dissipates.
Good, okay. It’s obviously a good cognitive day, and she sounds like she’s in a good mood. Maybe this will go better than I thought.
Thank you, Manny, for buttering her up.
I shift the bag with two bagel sandwiches to the hand holding my coffee so I can have one free to push the door open, and nearly drop everything as I gasp.
¡El Diablo!
SpyderMan turns in his seat to face the door, wearing that same infuriating smirk that’s officially burned into my memory.
“Madison!” Abuela greets me with a larger smile than I can remember seeing in a long time. She’s sitting upright in her puzzle chair, eyes sparkling and alert as they dart between me and the man sitting next to her.
And dammit, he’s just as handsome as ever, even though he’s forgone the badass biker disguise and today he’s wearing a suit. With atie. Like he’s some sort of businessman or CEO. He’s so… buttoned up, with layers of grandmother-approved silk and wool hiding all his gorgeous tattoos. Almost like he knew she wouldn’t like them.
Kiss-ass.
Trying to shake off the sudden boss-secretary kinky roleplaying scenario occupying every single one of my misfiring brain cells, I glance between the two ofthem, back and forth a few times, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. There’s an assassin in my abuela’s room, and he’s… helping her with a puzzle.
She seems fine—better than fine, actually—but my heart thumps hard and heat rushes to my face because I’m so caught off guard by his presence that I’m embarrassed by it. And angry.
How did he find out about her? What the fuck is he doing here?
“This is Wesley. He works here,” she says, sending me a sly look while his back is to her and he can’t see. She waggles her eyebrows. Deep in matchmaking mode, it would seem. “Wesley, this is my granddaughter, Madison.”
Wesley, eh? Wonder if it’s his real name.
“Lovely to meet you. I’m just doing the rounds on our favorite residents,” he says, turning back and winking atmyAbuela.
Her lips curve into a flirty smile, and she giggles like a schoolgirl. I roll my eyes, swallowing down a gagging noise because I need to be cool. I can’t freak out at him in front of Abuela because I don’t want to upset her or have to explain the real reason I did.
“Nice of you,” I manage.
Silently fuming, I enter the room, plopping the bagels down at a free spot at the table, but remaining on my feet to make a point that he’s not welcome to join us for breakfast. I need to say goodbye to Abuela but I’m sure as shit not doing it in front of him and revealing my plans.
“Sit, Madison,” Abuela urges.
I open my mouth to argue, but she cuts me a look. So, I dial back my planned retort in favor of something less antisocial. “I assumedWesleywas just leaving?”
“I only just arrived, actually,” he counters easily, then gestures to the empty chair. “Please enjoy your meal. I don’t mind.”
Oh, he doesn’tmind? This… jerk! He sits there, all smiles and charm as he lies through his teeth, and I’m the one left standing, grappling for a good excuse and coming up totally blank. Anything I say would either makemelook like an asshole, or would make my obviously smitten grandmother leap tohisdefense. Frustration boils under the surface as I take my seat.
Okay… fine. One point to SpyderMan. Well played, jerk.
His leg brushes against mine as I settle in my chair, and I jump at the contact, nearly knocking over my coffee. He swipes it—those damn lightning reflexes again—and instead of just righting it, he gives it a sniff, takes a sip, makes a face and puts it back down.
