Grant studied me for a moment, our eyes locking. He analyzed me, stripped me down, made sure that I was telling the truth. And for once, I was. I lied constantly, but this wasn’t something I was willing to let go. We needed to help her. And I was going to do it with or without him.
He shrugged. “Meet me in the car,” he said. He walked back inside. Through the windows, I watched him order more food at the counter. I sat down next to Micki again.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Husband?” she asked. “Boyfriend? Crush?”
“Ew, no,” I said. “But we’ll help you. Somehow.” I smiled, and for the first time, she smiled back.
Micki sat in the backseat, and Grant drove through the small town with a clear destination in mind. Past a small park. Past a cemetery. Over to a small building, labeled,Riverside Family Shelter.
A shelter? They could only help so much. My stomach hurt thinking about it.
“How do you know they’ll help her?” I asked.
Grant blinked at me, then got out of the car and helped Micki out. I followed the two of them, walking up the path to the main reception area. These places always smelled stale, like a humid garage after a rainstorm. The receptionist smiled at Micki, but her eyes widened when she saw the muscular man coming towards her. It wasn’t fear; it was delight.
“Grant!” she said. She rushed around the side of the counter. “Grant Tremmel! He’s back!”
“Is Lorena here?” he asked.
“I believe she is—”
“Come here, sweetie-pie! How’s your mama?”
I blinked. It was like a family reunion. Another social worker came towards us. “How can we help you?” she asked me.
“Micki is homeless,” I said. Micki looked down at her feet and shrugged.
“Kicked out,” she murmured.
“I’m sorry about that,” the worker said. She took Micki’s shoulder. “Let me show you around.”
***
The second order of food was no longer warm by the time we got back in the car, but I ate them anyway, chewing methodically. Without the heat, it tasted like nothing. My heart sank as we drove away, thinking of leaving Micki there. Was the shelter full of people she could trust? Would they force her back into the home she had likely ran away from? How long until she was back at that home, with her parents or caretakers? How long until she ran away again?
And then there was the issue of Grant. How the hell did he know about that shelter? They knew him. Treated him like family.
Maybe his mom took him to the shelter because she worked there. Or maybe he must have volunteered there a long time ago. He seemed like he would be an annoying do-gooder.
I opened my mouth to ask, but Grant’s eyes were shrouded by the sunglasses. I wanted to smack them off of his face, but I knew I needed to cool it. He had helped Micki. And it hadn’t taken much to convince him. I should have been grateful, or at least, kind, because of that.
Tall buildings began sprouting up on either side of the highway. Shiny windows sparkling in the sunset. Flashing lights started to glow.
I had only been in Las Vegas for a few weeks when I got mixed up with Eric’s slavery and Zaid’s abduction, but once we exited the highway, I was still able to recognize that we were in a fashionable part of town. Less garish lights, more sleek buildings, gastropubs, and shops without barred windows. Past a park with polished turf. A bar with a sign in a dainty pink cursive:Pretty Lush. Across from it, an apartment building as tall as the mega-hotels on the Strip.LX3, Lavish Leisure Livingon a lustrous sign. Grant pulled into the parking garage and took a slot with a sign that said,Reserved.
“I take it we already have a place,” I murmured. He got out of the car and I followed him. In the elevator, he pressed the button for40.The fortieth floor? Wasn’t that a little obnoxious?
The elevator was quick, taking the floors at an alarming rate. I glanced at Grant, who had his arms crossed, looking forward. Despite the polished handrails, or the subtle engravings decorating the wood panels in between the mirrors, or the distinct smell of money, Grant was comfortable here. Like his tight shirt, showing off his ridiculous muscles, could have been worth four hundred dollars, and no one would have known the difference. I felt like I was a dent in the wood panel, waiting to be fixed. One clumsy mistake and the repairs would cost more to fix, than my entire life.
The elevator opened to a small lobby with a concierge desk, an open espresso and wine bar, and a library. In the damn lobby. There were four doors to the sides of the area, each labeled with numbers. Grant went to the far side, opening the door with a key card. The lock clicked, and we went inside.
From the entryway, I could see that it was a two-storied dwelling with multiple rooms, a large kitchen, and an even bigger living space. Furniture was already placed throughout, with a bowl of fresh fruit sitting on the counter.
Grant handed me a key card. “You can stay here as long as you’d like,” he said. He gestured for me to follow, and we went up the stairs to the second floor. A small walkway wrapped around the edges, leading to different rooms, and over the ledge, there was a view of the living area on the bottom floor. “Your room,” he pointed to the first room with the doors closed, “Mine,” the middle room, “and the gym.” Double doors, likely the master bedroom, saved for his precious gym equipment. Of course. Muscle Boy and his priorities. “Zaid and Heather were here.” I rolled my eyes. If I cared enough, I would disinfect everything that the scar-face touched. “Heather stocked the fridge. And there’s stuff in your room.”
“What kind of stuff?”
