My eyes burn with unshed tears. “I need to buy dinner and groceries, Eli. I can’t do that now.”
“Use my credit card. That’s still open to you. Consider it a lesson in listening to me the first time I tell you something.” He hangs up before I can respond.
I stand there with the phone pressed to my ear, listening to the silence, feeling the humiliation wash over me in waves. My vision blurs as tears finally spill over. I wipe them away furiously, hating that he can do this to me from miles away, hating that I still let him.
I need to get to my car before I completely fall apart. No one here needs to see me cry. I shove my phone back into my purse and start walking, head down, toward the parking lot.
Once inside my SUV, I let the tears come freely, hot tracks down my cheeks that I don’t bother wiping away. I grip the steering wheel, resting my forehead against it, trying to breathe through the tightness in my chest.
A knock on my window makes me jump. I look up to see the man standing there, my stack of books in his arms, his expression concerned. For a wild moment, I consider ignoring him, driving away, pretending this humiliating evening never happened.
Instead, I roll down my window just enough to speak. “Yes?”
“Your books,” he says, holding them up. “Your card went through on the third try.”
I stare at him, knowing it’s a lie. “I don’t like liars,” I say, my voice raspy from crying.
He has the grace to look sheepish. “Okay, I bought them. But they’re yours. You looked like you really wanted them.”
The gesture is so unexpected, so kind, that fresh tears spring to my eyes. “I can’t accept that,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m not a charity case.”
“It’s not charity,” he insists. “Think of it as... an investment. In your happiness.”
“You don’t know me,” I repeat my earlier words, feeling a little more frantic than the last time I spoke them.
“I’d like to,” he says simply.
I look at him, really look at him, trying to find the angle, the hidden motive. Men like him don’t notice women like me, and they certainly don’t buy them books. “Why?”
He shifts the books in his arms, considering his answer. “Because you look like someone who deserves better than what you got tonight. Because I’ve never seen anyone’s face light up the way yours did when you found that book. Because I’m curious about a woman who reads romance but flinches when someone calls her gorgeous.”
His honesty disarms me, but I still shake my head. “Just leave me alone.”
With that, he turns and walks away. I watch in my side-view mirror as he approaches a sleek black motorcycle parked near the entrance, placing the books in a removable compartment and making a phone call. I half wonder what it’s about, and half don’t care at all. After a few minutes, he slides his helmet on and swings his leg over the seat. The engine roars to life, a deep, throaty sound that vibrates in my chest.
The ride home stretches before me, a journey back to reality after this strange interlude. I start the engine but don’t pull away immediately, instead sitting in the quiet darkness of my car, thinking about a stranger who called me gorgeous and the husband waiting at home who never has.
5
Anthony
She looks really upset.I’m not sure why that makes my heart ache so much; I don’t know her at all. But now, I want to. I want to learn everything about her. There were six books in the pile she left behind. I bought them and tried to give them to her. She told me to leave her alone. So, now I’m carrying them back to my bike along with my own and stow them in a small pack I’d brought just for today’s trip. I just need to figure out how to sneak the books she left into her house. I bet that would be romantic. But I’m no hacker; I can’t connect to her phone and pull any information. However, I do have someone on my payroll who can.
Dialing his number, he usually picks up on the first ring whether he’s busy or not, but this time it takes a few moments. “Hey, man. What’s up?” Cainen asks on the other end.
“Let me start by saying, please don’t judge me,” I say.
“Never,” he replies sincerely.
“I need you to help me hack this woman’s phone. I saw her crying in the bookstore; turns out her husband financially abuses her. I want her. Catch my drift?”
“Well okay. I’ve got a few things to do first; I’ll send you the basics now and some more in-depth methods later when I’ve got time to explain.”
“Oh, thank fuck! I thought you were going to turn me down.” A sigh of relief escapes me.
“Hey, there is one thing I need from you. You still got that guy on the police force?”
“Dillian? Sure do. What do you need?”
