I felt more naked in that moment than I did in that safe house bathroom when he watched me shower. If I keep letting this man expose me, I’ll lose him just like I lost Angelica. I’ve already witnessed him dodge death a dozen times since we met.
There I was, enjoying my post-sex high, riding on a tidal wave of oxytocin, picturing a future together.
And then his wound started seeping tears of blood.
A warning. A curse.
The warmth bubbling up in my chest congealed, clogging my throat and choking out any hope of the happiness I don’t deserve.
I don’t get to keep him. I never could.
Brody pulls into the parking lot of a busy strip mall, cruising slowly. “Do you have the drive?”
The hard drive sits in my hand, barely bigger than a credit card. My life’s work condensed to a piece of plastic lighter thana paperweight. Stomach churning, I pass it into Brody’s waiting palm.
I never expected to tell anyone about this, let alone willingly hand it over.
I must trust him, one way or another.
Brody stuffs the drive into his front pocket, wincing as he stretches his leg.
His wound is likely leaking again. My own leg twinges in sympathy, but I swallow down my concern and force myself to focus on the present.
“What are we doing here? I thought we needed to stay on the street.”
“As soon as I park, get out and run that way.” He points between an organic market and a hair salon.
“Okay.” I won’t question him. He’s kept me alive this far, so he must know what he’s doing. “Are you coming?”
He grins, not quite a happy expression, but definitely excited. “You’re not getting away from me yet.”
The minivan screeches to a halt between a Jeep and what I’d call a monster truck. Plenty of worse hiding spots.
Before he even throws the gear into park, my feet hit the pavement. I sprint as fast as I can.
Brody races by my side, his palm grazing my lower back. Probably just to ensure I don’t try to run off on my own. “What’s the plan?”
“We hide in plain sight.”
I glance around. “Where? Like at a football game?”
Huffing out a noise that almost passes for a laugh, he points. “There.”
He steers me toward a door tucked at the end of a row of shops,Three AMshining above in bright neon.
We ease into a walk as we approach a tall, burly man in a black muscle shirt who’s guarding the door.
Is that a…bouncer?” “What is this place?”
Brody slings an arm around my waist. “You really didn’t indulge in the college experience at all, did you? This is an after-hours club.” He fishes out his wallet and grabs a crisp hundred-dollar bill, nodding as he passes it off to the bouncer.
The guy, a bigger and beefier Brody with even more tattoos and a bald head, looks me up and down as he slides the money into his back pocket. “ID?”
Well, hell. How do I explain that I left my license in California when this handsome devil kidnapped me, but I pinky promise I’m twenty-two?
Brody peels two more hundred-dollar bills out of his wallet. “She’s of age but lost her purse.”
The man pockets the money and shuffles aside.
