Alfie roared with laughter and I nearly ran us off the road. I was so transfixed by the beauty on his face at his carefree expression of emotion. His surprisingly deep, rich laughter filled the cab and hit something low in my chest before I could stop it.
"Mr. Crowe... that guy had creeper written all over him.Ifyou were kidnapping him to do evil things to him, I'm pretty sure he deserved it and the world is a better place without him."
"And you're not worried about being in a truck with a possible kidnapper and murderer?" I queried, annoyed with myself for giving in to this ridiculous line of conversation.
He didn't even hesitate. "Nope."
I frowned. "Why the fuck not?"
He turned his head, looking at me properly now, those beautiful eyes assessing me.
And then he smiled again.
"Because if you were a bad guy," he said, easy and certain, "You wouldn't be so worried about menotworrying about you being a bad guy."
His logic—although convoluted and messy—somehow made sense.
"You really should stop this hitchhiking nonsense," I couldn't help myself saying. "It's not safe. And you're going to get yourself killed. Maybe not by me, but who's to say the next person that stops for youisn'ta serial killer looking to rape and kill you."
"Well..." he looked proud of himself. Why would he look so damned proud?
I watched from the corner of my eye as Alfie dug into his back pocket and took out his phone. He quickly unlocked the screen and scrolled through some screens before showing me a photo.
Of my truck's license plate.
"What the fuck?"
He grinned. "I took a photo when you pulled over and sent it to Goldie. She's insisted on it since she first picked me up. I have to send her an update each time along with the location I was picked up, and every time we pull over and so forth. If I don't check in by dinner time she'll have the cops on the phone."
I exhaled slowly.
It wasn’t a bad system.
Not nearly enough. But it was something
"That's not going to help you if you're already dead in a ditch."
"Well... normally I tell whomever picks me up almost immediately that I have a friend that knows where I'm at and who I'm with. Show them the proof and everything." He paused then glanced at me again. "But I don't know, Mr. Crowe. I trusted you wouldn't try to kill me, so I didn't think I needed to."
Something inside me warmed up and unfurled. Something I'd thought long dead.
And I couldn't have it.
"Kid," I said, voice rough and hard. "That's not how life works. There are more ways for you to get hurt than being killed."
"I know," he responded brightly. "But is life really worth living without a bit of risk?"
6
Chapter 5
He liked me.
Oh, he'd rather listen to Vogon’s poetry than admit it out loud. To himself first and foremost. But my future Daddy liked me. I'd caught the looks. The quick glances he thought I wouldn't notice. The way his jaw tightened every time I spoke for more than five consecutive seconds. The way his whole body went just a little too still when I moved any closer to him.
Yeah. I saw it all.
The signs were there. Tiny, subtle, practically microscopic signs. But compared to Vogon poetry, Crowe's flirting was practically a love sonnet.
