Now I do laugh. “Aww, aren’t you cute, thinking I don’t know how to break into a cell phone.”
Helen stares at me for a beat. And then, faster than I would have given her credit for, she unbuckles her seat belt and lunges over at me.
I swear, it’s only the fact that she’s taken me by total surprise that gives her the upper hand. If I’d known she was coming, I could’ve been quicker, faster, gotten out of my own seat belt. As it is, I’m still pinned in place and she’s climbing on top of me, with surprising strength as she wrestles to take her phone back.
“Jesus!” I shout at her when I’m able to catch my breath. “Who taught you to fight so dirty?”
Nevertheless, I manage to just keep the phone out of her grip, moving it from hand to hand as she struggles to get it back from me.
“I have a little brother,” Helen reminds me, a little out of breath. “You think this is the first time I’ve had to wrestle someone to get back something that was mine?”
I don’t doubt that’s true, but I do doubt very much that this is what it was like when Helen wrestled with her brother. At least, I hope it wasn’t. For starters, she is full-on straddling me now, the material of her dress rucked up to her thighs, her chest heaving inches from my face. I’m struck, once again, with the desire to tug on that itty-bitty little string holding her dress together.
With the phone still in my grip, I shove my hands under my backside, deep enough that she can’t reach. And even a firecracker ex-nun won’t reach under a grown man’s ass, it seems. We’re at an impasse. She’s still on top of me, flushed and breathing heavy, but she can’t get to her phone. I have the phone, but I can’t move her or me without giving up my position.
Our gazes lock. We battle silently with each other, and all the while, I’m thinking she just might be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I don’t know how or why she has this power over me, but it feels like I lose control of myself whenever I’m with her, like everything is weighted and meaningful in a way I don’t totally understand.
“Don’t be such a butthead,” she says at last, breaking the silence.
I blink at her in surprise. So much formeaningful. “A butthead?” I echo.
“Yes, you’re being a butthead.” Helen sounds genuinely frustrated, like she doesn’t understand why I could possibly think it’s a bad idea to bring a nun turned librarian on a road trip to find a fugitive on the run from the mafia. “You told me to trust you to treat Dean fairly, and I’m doing that. I’m not going to get in your way. I’m not going to try to stop you. I just want to make sure my brother is okay. So why can’t it be both ways? How can you ask me to trust you if you aren’t willing to do the same with me?”
I stare at her, taken aback. I did ask her to trust me—and she has. And all she’s done since then is help me as best she can.
“Trust me,” Helen pleads with me again, eyes wide and earnest.
“O-okay,” I hear myself stammering before I’ve fully made the decision to say so.
I regret it the instant I say it—not because of her, per se, but because I swore to myself I wouldn’t do this again, wouldn’t get tricked by a pretty face or a nice pair of tits. I have to be on guard, always on the lookout for people who’re just looking to stab me in the back.
But then she grins at me, and it almost, almost, feels worth it.
Chapter 21
Helen
Ican’t believe it. I seriously cannot believe that I just wrestled with the Red Unicorn and demanded that he take me along with him on a recovery mission to New Orleans to find my brother.
I’m kind of awesome.
Of course, I didn’ttellThad that we’re going to Louisiana, not yet. I’m not that much of an idiot. Despite the agreement we reached tonight, I have no doubt he’d leave me behind at the drop of a hat if he knew where we’re going. I now have my phone, and the pictures of Dean’s credit card charges, safely back in my possession. All Thad knows is that we’ll be taking a lengthy road trip. We’ve agreed to meet up tomorrow at nine a.m. That gives me a little time to organize everything with my work and make sure my shifts are covered. I’m meant to have tomorrow off anyway, and I’m overdue some personal days, but since I don’t know how long we’ll be gone, I also want to cover my bases and reach out to some coworkers who I’ve covered for in the past, hoping they will do the same for me if necessary.
Not Erica, of course. I’ve taken many of her shifts at the last minute, but whenever I’ve reached out (almost always well in advance!) she’s pretended not to get my texts. Funny how she’s always able to receive them when she needs something from me…
In the midst of sorting through all the work stuff and packing, I send off a group text to Matilda and Nina, too. I’m going to New Orleans! With the Red Unicorn. ?? Long story, but it has to do with my brother.
I don’t expect to hear from Nina tonight, since her uncle usually insists on everyone in the house being in bed and having all lights and electronics out by nine p.m. (Apparently it’s “ungodly” to be up too long after the sun sets…?) But it doesn’t take long for Matilda to take the bait. Instead of texting back, she calls. “Are you insane?” she barks at me.
I put her on speaker so I can keep packing. “Not the last time I checked?”
“You barely know this man. He could be a serial killer. He could be a human trafficker. He could be someone who insists on playing marching band music the entire trip. You have no business going anywhere with him alone.”
If I’m being honest, a similar worry has crossed my mind—well, not the marching band thing. That seems weirdly specific. But the truth is, I really don’t know much about Thad, beyond the fact that he used to be on a TV show and that his fiancée left him for his father. That he’s a licensed bounty hunter in the state of Indiana. That he doesn’t like to read. That he gets abnormally territorial with middle-aged women like my mother.
Come to think of it, I guess I know a few things about him. Relaxing at the realization, I shrug off Matilda’s concerns. “It’s going to be fine. We’ve gotten to know each other better over the last week. I haven’t asked him yet if he’s a serial killer or human trafficker, but I’m sure it’ll come up naturally in conversation sooner or later.”
Matilda is clearly in no mood for my attempt at humor. “If you’re going to insist on going on this fool’s errand, I want you to take protection.”
