She slumps into the seat opposite, hiding her face in her hands. “I feel like a prisoner.” She blows out a resigned breath,her shoulders sagging. “I bet I’m not even allowed to stroll through the woods now.”
She looks up, her defiance ebbing away, leaving a resigned Hailey behind. It’s not a version I’ve often seen. Given all the shit she’s been through and all the shit she’s still dealing with, she’s resilient but, today, she’s nearing a breaking point.
I can’t have that.
“Go grab a jacket and meet me back here in ten minutes.” I reach for my phone.
“No, you’re right. I can’t leave. You’ll get in trouble as well if I get spotted—”
Trouble. That’s adorable.
“You won’t get spotted.”
Me: I need a blackout. Surveillance system at Lakeside. Parking lot and gate cameras. Now.
Ryder’s reply comes in seconds. Two words:onit.
“Go grab a jacket, Hailey,” I repeat. “You want a coffee for the road?”
“But how? There are cameras everywhere.”
I get up from the table, pulling her to her feet. “The less you know, the better. Jacket, pretty girl. Go. We won’t have long to get out of here.”
Her eyes widen, but there’s a flash of gratitude there too. “Okay, I won’t be a minute.”
She hurries away, passing Jensen at the door. He’s waited there the entire time, but Hailey doesn’t pay him any attention, even though he clearly wants hers.
I approach the coffee machine, feeling someone’s gaze burning my neck. Chloe and Rachel immediately drop their eyes when I look over my shoulder. They’ve been on my case since I took Hailey stationery shopping.
While Rachel limited her advice to a simplebe careful, Chloe went into a full, clumsy version of that Poirot guy Hailey reads about over dinner.
With two coffees, I exit the building just as Hailey rounds the corner, wrapped in a flimsy fucking cardigan that barely falls low enough to cover her perky ass.
“That’s not a jacket,” I say. “You’ll be cold.”
And you’ll end up wearing my hoodie again.
“I’ll be fine.” She grabs one of the cups, a little breathless, probably from running across campus to make it back inside three minutes. “Are we waiting for something?”
Right on time, a message comes through.
Ryder: Done. You have ten minutes.
I pocket my phone, meeting Hailey’s anxious gaze. “Come on, we have ten minutes.”
“What? Why ten—?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I interrupt, lacing our fingers.
I have no clue why I did that. I shouldn’t, but her small hand fits in mine perfectly, so I don’t let go. Not until I’m opening the passenger side door for her.
22
Hailey
Nash navigates the winding roads, steering us further away from Lakeside, and I can’t stop stealing glances at his tattooed hand gripping the steering wheel at twelve o’clock. There’s something sensual about the combination of his inked skin, gold signet ring and the old car itself.
There’s something sensual abouthim, period.
