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18
MARGARET
AGENT DIMPLES—EVEN knowing his name, I can’t bring myself to call him by it yet—leads me out of the hotel, both of us donning hats to hide our identities. My nose is still swollen to twice its normal size, so I’m grateful for the extra coverage in the broad daylight where everyone can see me.
I leave the hotel in much better shape than when I got there, with a clean body and at least a somewhat less dizzy head. I follow Agent Dimples over to the nearest convenient store—for what, I don’t know, but I know now how these guys operate. They always need their essentials, and since I didn’t get my cheeseburger and fries, I use this opportunity to grab some snacks for wherever it is he’s taking me.
When I grab the package of donuts, I grin to myself, remembering the first time I was with Liam, when he gave me shit for stuffing my body with junk. Man, that feels like it was ages ago.
“You okay?” Ford asks, and I nod. It’s hard to say what he thinks of me, but I’m guessing he’s a bit concerned judging by the crease between his eyebrows. I am standing here smiling at a pack of donuts, and I mean, I have hit my head a lot. Maybe I’m not at one hundred percent… When we reach the checkout, the lady starts absentmindedly scanning items. When she looks up and makes eye contact with me, her eyes widen. Ford is getting into his wallet for money, and I try to give her a smile. I don’t understand why she’s looking at me like she is.
When we’re about to leave, Ford starts away from the checkout and she reaches out, grabbing my hand. “You can stay here—he doesn’t need to do that to you.”
I give her a confused look and then it dawns on me what she’s talking about. My face must look worse than I thought. “I was…in a car accident.” I pat her hand with my free one. “I’m okay. Really.”
Ford stops, his eyes observing the exchange. She looks between us again and lets go of my hand, releasing me.
“Everything okay?” he asks me when I reach his side again.
“Oh yeah, she thought you beat me up.”
Ford’s expression twists and his brows draw together when he looks over to me. We’ve exited the store into the busy street, and he grabs my hand. “What did you tell her?”
“I said I was in a car accident.”
He nods and looks at me again. “Just so you know…” He pauses and appears hesitant. “I would never do that to you—or anyone!” He rushes on, and I let him get it out. He’s way more worried about it than I am. “I know we don’t know each other, but I just…wanted you to know.” He seems way less the confident guy he was when we met, and I pat his arm in much the same way the cashier patted my hand.
“I trust you. Don’t worry.” Ford nods and leads me to a black SUV that’s sitting on the curb. We hop in, and I turn to him. “Is this stolen?” I ask.
He gives me a weird look. “No?” He replies like it’s a crazy question, and I shrug. I guess Liam has conditioned me to stealing cars. That can’t be a good thing.
We start our drive, but getting out of the Strip takes some doing. It’s so clustered, and I can’t even imagine being a taxi driver on these streets. How many people get hit in Vegas between the crowds, the drunkenness, and the excessive number of cars driving down the Strip? I make a mental note to google it later.
“So, where exactly are we going?” I ask as I bite into the chocolate frosting of the processed delicacy. I moan when it melts on my tongue, savoring the sweetness. Chicken broth can only do so much for your body.
“Well, I can’t exactly tell you that,” Ford says, turning on his blinker.
“Why not?” I scoff. “It’s not like I’ll tweet it.”
“Tweet it?” he asks, perplexed.
“Yeah, you know, Twitter?” I reply. Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you know what Twitter is.
“Oh, right. Yeah, don’t do that.”
“No problem,” I answer sarcastically. “But seriously, where are we going?”
“A safe house.” I scoff again. Why I’m giving an FBI agent shit and not flinching, I’ll never know. “What?” Ford demands.
“Oh nothing,” I taunt. “That just went so well the last time.”
Ford smirks. “Well, this time I’m prepared.”
I decide to let it be. Surely, he knows what he’s doing…I hope. “So, how long have you known Liam?” I ask, changing topics. I really do want to know everything I can about the man I can’t stop thinking about, especially after our latest conversation. I try not to let myself become too hopeful. After everything that has happened in the last couple of weeks, I can’t even comprehend having a normal life again, especially one that includes Liam.
“A long time,” he answers. I don’t think he’s going to give me anything else, but then he says, “We basically leaned on each other when we started this whole thing. He’s one of the few people I trust in this world.”
This tidbit of information makes me turn fully toward him, readjusting my seat belt to see him better. “Really? What’s he like?” I already know enough about him to know I have some seriously intense feelings there, and now that I know they’re reciprocated, it changes everything.
