“You should always be on guard,” Wes says, a serious look on his face.
I’m an idiot. How many times will I let this man drug me? I should’ve questioned the coffee. And the hot chocolate last night.
“How about the apple pie?” I pull the plate closer, and my mouth waters at the smell of it.
“I would never drug one of my apple pies.”
“Hmm.” I scrunch my nose. “So you’d drug other pies?”
He shrugs but doesn’t answer. Weird.
“Eat,” he nods to the pie.
“Fine. Wait. Why is there a whipped cream heart?” It’s actually pretty impressive, not some messy shape, but a very precise heart on top of a picture-perfect slice of apple pie.
“Because it’s Valentine’s Day.”
“It is? Huh. Okay.” I snort out a short chuckle, and he grins at me. I’m annoyed that my first thought wasthat’s sweet. I’m starting Valentine’s Day with apple pie that’s homemade by a gorgeous masked kidnapper? Could be worse, I guess.
I scoop up a soft, warm spoonful of pie with some whipped cream and shove it in my mouth and oh. My god.
Wes crosses his arms and leans back, not biting into his pie, his eyes examining my face intensely. The thick sugary filling coats my tongue and explodes onto my taste buds. It’s hot, but I don’t even care. This man can sure as hell bake a pie.
“Do you like it?” Wes watches me eagerly.
“It’s amazing.” A sigh involuntarily escapes my throat, and he smiles broadly.
“Enough to beat Ruth?”
“Fuck that old lady. Of course.”
“Exactly! Fuck Ruth.” He grins even wider at me. Then Wes drops his spoon, leaning forward on the table onto his forearms, giving me a chance to really examine the ivy and rose tattoos I noticed yesterday. They disappear into his sweatshirt and reappear on his neck. The other side of his neck is bare. I wonder if he has anything on his chest?
Something is off about this guy. I have a good nose for sniffing out humans who are used to breaking the law or doing shady shit. Maybe it’s the past decade of being in my family’s criminal world without actually being a part of it. I witnessed a lot over the years, and Wes is definitely one of those guys. Therefore, I should be terrified of him. I should cut ties and run from this place, as associating myself with Wes goes against my entire plan to start a new, legal life somewhere far away.
But he doesn’t scare me.
The Ruth-inspired scowl drops from his face, and he replaces it with a pleasant smile.
Something might be off about him, but he’s probably the perfect person to help me find Shane. Normal people don’t do the kind of work Wes does.
“So, Wesley, will you help me find Shane?”
“Wesley?”
“Isn’t that your name?”
“Yeah, but it’s been a long time since anyone called me that.”
“Can I?”
Wes assesses me for a few seconds. He tilts his head and runs a hand along his jaw, the sound rough against the stubble, more pronounced than it was yesterday.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah I can call you Wesley or yeah you’ll help me find Shane?”
“Both.”
