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His eyes quickly scan my body before he gives his attention back to the road. “Lix was twenty-three.”
“Wow, that’s young.”
“Yeah, he’s your age now and still trying to sow his wild oats, but he’s different when he answers a call. Not that I’ve ever seen him in action, but your aunt says the victims like him. He makes them feel safe. That’s all that matters. These women have been through hell, and we’re there to get them out of it. They need to trust us.”
“That must be hard.” The situations he’s been in and his ability to adapt to them in real-time are challenging and impressive. I only had one experience with Amanda. He’s done it ample times.
“Not really. It starts the second we get through the door. If their abuser is there, we neutralize him. If he’s not, things go a lot smoother, but whatever we walk into, we must prove to the victim that we can and will get them safely out of the situation.”
“Neutralize?”
He glances at me. “I think I’m catching on to this repeating shit. That one wasn’t for processing, right? This time you’re seeking an explanation.” He chuckles. “We subdue them.”
Every part of me wants to repeat the word subdue. Instead, I reply, “What if you can’t?”
“I don’t know.” His shoulder draws up. “I’ve never run into that situation.”
“And your brothers? None of them have?”
“In high school, Brett won nationals in wrestling. Lix boxes, and he’s an MMA fighter. We all train together. So Lix has picked up on some things Brett and I have taught him. He uses them in the ring.”
“And you?” I examine his strong side profile. “What’s your superpower?”
He glances at the GPS. “Martial arts.”
“How did you get into all of it?”
His eyes move back to the road. “I started martial arts when I was fourteen—”
“I meant the escort service.”
“It’s a long story.”
“I like stories, and we’re going to be stuck in this car for another two hours.”
“Yeah. We are.” His penetrating gray eyes flash to me. “So why don’t you tell me a story?”
“I don’t have any stories to tell, and yours sounds so interesting.”
“Make one up.” He goes back to concentrating on the road, proving I’m not going to hear his story.
Not today, anyway.
Chapter 11
Harper lasts about ten minutes before she claps her hands together. “Okay, there was this woman.” Her ambivalent eyes slide over me.
I feel them. Not to mention, I have excellent peripheral vision. I keep my eyes fixed straight ahead.
She waits a few seconds and continues when I don’t respond.
“We’ll call her Clara.” She turns, joining me in focusing on the road while relaxing in the seat. “She was married to a man who worked in law enforcement.”
“Was he a cop?” I chime in, participating in the unexpected story. “A detective? Investigator?”
“I don’t know,” she snaps. “Okay.” She waves her hands. “Fine. Let’s say he was a cop. No. A detective. Anyway, Clara was married to him.”
“Roney,” I suggest for the character’s name, glimpsing at her with a grin.
