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The tiniest hint of a smile quirked his lips, but he schooled his features into a more serious expression. He pulled the truck out of the mostly deserted motel parking lot and onto the quiet street. He grumbled, “I told you to stay at the motel.”
“Funny thing. It turns out that I have free will and won’t just stay put when you tell me to heel,” I said, throwing my hands into an exaggerated helpless posture.
He frowned at me and slid his phone out of his pocket to make arrangements for Jerry’s transfer.
Jerry was silent for most of the ride, because, well, he was unconscious.
As we drove, Caleb called his clients and made arrangements to drop Jerry at a small bush-pilot operation about three hundred miles away. Caleb’s clients, who remained unnamed for reasons I didn’t question, would be waiting at the hangar there for us. I chose not to think about what would happen to Jerry once they had him. But given what I’d read in his file—which I had filched from Caleb and read with a pen light while we waited—Jerry wasn’t a terribly nice person, with a history of petty and not-so-petty larceny, grand theft auto, and assault. Torn by my strange connection to Caleb and my feelings of solidarity for another “runner,” I didn’t feel good about the part I’d played in Jerry’s capture. I’d acted out of instinct, wanting to help Caleb, to stay in his good graces. But now, the farther we drove, the more I wanted to yell for Caleb to stop the truck and let Jerry out. Or maybe just let me out.
When he finally woke up, Jerry wailed and cursed and grunted for the rest of the drive. I thought Caleb would do the Dog the Bounty Hunter thing and lecture Jerry about the bad choices that had led him here. But all he said was “You do something this stupid again, you know they’re going to have me right back at your door.”
Note to self: Stop making comparisons between Dog the Bounty Hunter and Caleb. He wouldn’t find them amusing, and I couldn’t stop picturing Caleb with a libido-killing haircut. Also, I liked to think I was above calling him Wolf the Bounty Hunter—even behind his back.
“Inspiring,” I told him, and we engaged in a battle of dueling body language.
I jerked my head toward Jerry. Caleb shrugged his shoulders. I tilted my head and poked out my bottom lip in the prettiest pout I could muster. Caleb sighed, glanced over his shoulder, and added, “Eat your vegetables. Say your prayers before bedtime. And give a hoot, don’t pollute.”>Fan-freaking-tastic.
5
The Misadventures of Alcoholus Moronicus
If I jumped out of the booth as if my butt was scalded, Caleb would probably notice. If I tried to slink away quietly and offended Jerry, making a scene, Caleb would probably notice. All I had to do was humor this moron for a minute or two and then hightail it before—
Crap. Caleb had noticed.
And from across the room, he did not look happy. He stood, moving swiftly around the tables, approaching Jerry from behind. I shook my head slightly, prompting Jerry to ask, “Everything OK, sweetie?”
Caleb frowned, and I drummed up the ditzy-blonde voice I’d perfected at Oil Slick’s. “Hi! Do you mind if I sit here?”
Jerry’s dim but perfectly friendly grin was back. “Well, since you already are, I don’t mind at all. Can I buy you a drink?”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” I said, smiling sweetly.
He hollered, “Beer!” across the barroom, which prompted a rude gesture from the bartender. Jerry turned back to me. “Well, look at you. Here I thought I’d met all the pretty girls in town. You’re new around here, huh?”
Right, right, idle chitchat. I can do this, I told myself. I could keep Jerry pleasantly distracted and maybe even get him outside, where Caleb could intercede without causing a loud, violent scene. Jerry didn’t seem like a sleaze, which helped considerably. He just seemed like a rather sad, lonely guy who had very bad judgment regarding auto loans and business transactions. Part of me sort of wanted to help him escape out the back door. I smiled, although the expression was a bit shaky, and leaned across the table toward him.
“My boyfriend and I just blew into town a few days ago. But I can’t seem to find him. I guess I’ll just have to spend my time with you.” I slowly walked my fingers up his denim-clad arm.
“Well, his loss is my gain, sweetie. I’ll just get us some drinks.” Jerry waved his arms in the direction of the bar and frowned. “Len doesn’t seem to be cooperatin’,” he said, frowning slightly at the bartender, who was pointedly ignoring him. “Why don’t I go get you that beer?”
I smiled, all sweetness and light. “Why don’t you?”
He sauntered toward the bar, grinning at me the whole time.
Now was probably a good time to run. As nonsleazy as he seemed, Jerry could try his own luck with Caleb. When he turned his back to me to order, I hopped up from the table, made toward the back exit, and ran right into Caleb.
There’s nothing like a face full of pissed-off werewolf to get your adrenal responses going.
“What are you doing here?” Caleb hissed, dark eyes flashing faintly golden as he wrapped his fingers around my wrist and pulled me toward the corridor. Although he clearly wasn’t messing around, his grip wasn’t tight enough to hurt, and I felt insistently guided rather than dragged against my will.
“I got bored,” I whispered, in an effort not to attract Jerry’s attention. “And then I got here, and it all just sort of spiraled out of control.”
“I told you to stay at the motel.”
“I’m starting to grasp why,” I told him. “And I’m sorry. I got anxious when you didn’t come back.”
And I grasped exactly how needy that sounded as the words came out of my mouth. Maybe if I started drinking, I would develop some sort of verbal filter around this man.
