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Her list sounds real and honest, and I wonder where the lie was in her previous response, thinking maybe it was something else she was lying about. Maybe it was the moving? Or the money? A lie of omission, maybe?
Before I can ask more follow-ups, she redirects us to the current problem at hand. “What do you think is going on back at the club?”
I know pressing her more isn’t going to get any results, so I decide to go with the flow. “I don’t know. I’ve got a guy looking into it for us. I’ll check in with him in the morning, see what he’s heard.”
“You’ve ‘got a guy’?” Maggie asks, lifting an eyebrow. “Seriously? That even sounds like we’ve jumped into the middle of a mob movie. How in the heck did we end up here? I mean, how’d you get in touch with this guy?”
“Burner phone in my bag,” I admit. “The phone’s off for now, just in case. But I’ll check in, and we’ll see what he’s hearing back home.”
She looks at me with calculating eyes, and I’m reminded once again just how smart she is and how careful I need to be with her. “So, on a moment’s notice, you snatched me up, switched vehicles to a nondescript sedan that you knew would be waiting in that lot, have a duffle bag packed with at least one day’s worth of clothes, cash, and a burner phone, took us to a no-tell motel, and now we’re headed to another safe location, and you ‘have a guy’? That about sum it up?”
Fuck. She’s putting a bunch of shit together pretty damn fast, and it does sound like a fucking action movie script. Scrambling, I try to stay calm and put her on the defensive, a tactic that usually works on most folks. I laugh heartily, not taking my eyes off the road as if I’m not concerned. “Well, when you put it all together like that . . . you’re welcome, Angel. You planning to say thank you on your knees too? Because that was a damn fine apology this morning.”
She doesn’t take the bait, sidestepping the crude, and honestly rude, comment. “Who are you, Shane? You said you’re not one of Dominick’s guys, not in the mob. But it sounds like . . . are you tied up in all of this?”
I grit my teeth, growling as I clench the steering wheel a little tighter and hoping it’ll scare her into backing the fuck off. “All you need to know is that you’re safe.”
As we’ve talked, her curled knees had fallen loosely to her left, toward me, but at my harsh words, she pulls away. Her knees are once again clenched tight to her chest in a protective posture. She half turns away, her back mostly to me as she faces the window, her eyes unfocused as the scenery flies by.
It hurts, honestly. I was enjoying talking to her, but I need to keep her from probing in areas that she shouldn’t. I realize I likely hurt her feelings, and that despite her brains and sass, she’s got a vulnerable side too. Unable to reach her thigh, I rest my hand on the back of her neck, squeezing lightly, comforting and not threatening, I hope. “Maggie, you’re safe, and I promise to keep you that way. That’s all you need to know right now.”
She doesn’t answer, doesn’t even acknowledge that I’ve spoken. I turn my attention back to the road, knowing I should give her space. Hell, I should give myself some space to figure out how to handle this, handle her. Fuck, that doesn’t even sound right. Maggie’s a grown ass woman with her own mind. She shouldn’t be ‘handled’. She should be respected, but the situation makes my caveman instincts come out and all I want to do is protect her.
As my thoughts swirl, I leave my hand where it is, drawing small lines up and down her neck with my thumb, soothing her anger, her fear, even if some of it is my fault.
If I’m honest with myself, having her satin skin under my palm calms me too, and that’s a fucking problem.
Chapter 15
Maggie
We drive for hours, only stopping for a bathroom break at a truck stop with a burger joint attached to it. We take the burgers and fries to go, along with some snacks and an odd assortment of cheap undies, a pack of socks, and some souvenir T-shirts so that I can have clothes, and keep driving. It’s quiet for a long time, neither of us willing to give in to the stalemate.
He hurt me, and he knows it. I can feel his remorse, but I’m not ready to forgive and he hasn’t apologized. Eventually, Shane turns on the radio and music fills the car. It’s nothing much, just the regular late-night stuff you get on Top 40 stations, some slow songs mixed in with oldies and a few tunes for the young lovers who might want some mood music. After a bit, I hear him humming along with an old Green Day song, even singing softly under his breath. It’s nice. I can tell he has a good voice, deep and mellow with a raw emotion to it that tells me he actually knows this song.
