Page 74 of The Tiger in the Sack

“It’s literally across the street.”

Across the street was five stoplights and at least one alley and a whole lot of Cincinnati that was not me, and if the person who’d done this was watching the lot, and somebody had been watching the lot, because somebody had known which cars to hit, then the person who’d done this was about to watch her get into a car with a stranger and drive away from the only people who knew her name.

No.

“I’ll take you home.”

She looked up. Her thumb was paused over the app. “Oh, yeah?”

I tipped my head toward the bike.

“I don’t have a helmet.” Her tone said case closed.

That was true, but not for long, if I was lucky.

My jaw was tight. I made it un-tight.

The high whine of a scooter running hotter than it was built for had us both turning our heads toward the entrance. The owner’s kid rounded the far corner of the lot with a Moto Guys box strapped to his passenger pegs with a bungee cord and a prayer, braked hard five feet from me, and was unbuckling the cord before his kickstand was down.

“Kingman?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

He handed me the box. I handed him five twenties. He was back on the scooter and gone before Clover had finished blinking.

She looked at me. Looked at the box. Then at me.

“How?”

“I’ve got connections you don’t even know about.” I smiled and gave her a little wink.

I opened the box. My hands were doing something I hadn’t told them to do, which was shaking a little, not enough to see, but enough to feel. I pulled out a black half-shell, plain, no logo, nothing to turn into a pink thing. Held it out to her.

She didn’t take it.

“Isak.”

“Yep.” I continued to smile. Because, if I ever needed to be charming it was now. Just so that I could talk her into letting me protect her and take care of her for two whole minutes.

“You ordered a helmet.”

“Yep, I sure did.”

“When?”

Oh no. Do not say when. She was going to be pissed that I’d made a decision without talking to her about it first. Fuck. I just wanted to...

Say something else. Say anything else.. Say the Gettysburg Address. Say before you answered the phone. Say the truth.

“When I saw the broken glass.”

Her mouth opened a fraction and then closed again without saying anything.

The helmet was in the air between us and I was not going to be the one who took it back. My whole chest was a held breath.

She reached out and took the helmet. Not fast. Not like she was giving in. Like she’d decided. Her hand on the shell, not grabbing, just, accepting the weight of it from me.

“Okay,” she said.