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Ransom
Do I Look Like a Churro Guy?
I deserved a beer after this shitshow of a day.
I’d been expecting bad news when we got to Roth Defense, but Poe had unearthed things I hadn’t fathomed. Which was pretty shocking since I’d been in the bodyguard game for years. Also, learning Willow had been through this before twisted something inside of me on a fundamental level.
Protective instincts were just a baseline for me. They were what made me join the Army after seeing my family implode. I needed that stability, that order—and now I was smack in the middle of a never-ending hurricane named Willow.
I just wasn’t sure how it had happened. Or why I didn’t want to detangle myself.
Maybe one too many trips up in a Blackhawk. Obviously, there had to be some residual brain scramble.
Now here I was watching her run around happily in a forgotten parking lot where food trucks liked to congregate for secret tastings. I was shocked how many of them still used this space. People never really knew when they’d show up, or how many—but the rhythms hadn’t changed much since I’d left.
Clay used to have an affinity for finding hidden gems even though the bazillion dollar Winslow campus had eateries to cover just about everyone. Before Rachel, he’d just used checking them out as an excuse to get away from his office.
And lo and behold, now his wandering ways had disappeared. He finally knew where he belonged.
Hell, I’d marry Rachel just for her coffee skills.
Now I was getting rained on to make another Doyle happy. The greasy scent of a grill and eye-searing spices floated over to me in the misty rain. Vanilla and buttery confections chased the sharp aroma of peppers, making me glad I was a few hundred feet away.
I flipped up the collar of my pea coat. It was a little warm for the wool, but it kept me dry. Chaos was bouncing between a taco truck and a churro specialty truck. She’d agreed not to post any videos while we were in the abandoned warehouse parking lot, so I was letting her do her thing. The employees were thrilled to speak to her since the rain had kept people away.
Not exactly shocking. A leggy redhead with a huge smile made damn near everyone take notice—male or female. She’d pulled on her raincoat, making it easy to spot her bright pink hood as she delighted damn near everyone with selfies, videos, and taste tests galore. She kept trying to bring me over samples.
I didn’t want to like her. I definitely didn’t want to be charmed by her. And here I was fighting a smile as I leaned against my Jeep.
Knowing we would hit gridlock traffic into Brooklyn should have been a factor and yet here I was, almost as at ease as she was. We were safe enough that I didn’t invade her space. She was relaxed and happy. She kept looking back to make sure I was still there and my gut ached from bracing for each of those smiles.
Damn her.
I glanced at my watch. Fun time needed to be over. We’d be rolling into her neighborhood in the dark if we didn’t get moving.
“Chaos, let’s go.”
She spun around, a churro in each hand. “One more—”
“Losing light. Nope.”
She said something to the girl leaning out of the truck. The older woman with a ball cap cackled and shot a look my way.
“Want some to go, handsome?” came her heavily accented voice.
I shook my head. I was still full from the tray of tacos we’d plowed through. I wasn’t sure where Chaos put all the food she ingested. It certainly didn’t show on any part of her.
She waved at the woman and accepted a to-go box before crossing the pitted gravel parking lot. She skipped around puddles, laughing as she played some sort of game of hopscotch only she could see.
“This was great. I can’t wait to edit the footage. I think I got some really great stuff.” She pushed back her hood enough so she could grin up at me. Her ginger lashes were starred with water and her makeup had long since washed away. She looked impossibly young with all her freckles and her cheeks flushed with excitement.
She popped open the box and held up a bite-sized version of a churro. “Sure you don’t want anything?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Do I look like a churro guy?”
“You look like a guy whoneedsa churro.” She held it up to my mouth. “Come on, Grumpasaurus. How can you not want something as perfectly cinnamony as a fresh churro?”
My mouth opened and her delighted laugh made me far bolder than I should have been. I nipped at her fingers as she popped it into my mouth. I chewed slowly, watching her hazel eyes go from playful to dilated with awareness.
