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The doors ding and I step into them. Baptist doesn’t follow. He looks distraught, angry, confused. I’d smile at him but I don’t know how and I’m not sure I care whether he wants me to do this or not.
“I’ll be fine. Stop worrying.”
The doors slide shut and I hear him curse profusely as the car slides down.
He’s right. I shouldn’t go out there. Following her right now is supremely stupid, and if her father is as smart and dangerous as Baptist seems to think, he will make the connection between me and his daughter in a split second. If that happens, this whole house of cards comes tumbling down, and I’ll be officially involved.
But to hell with it. Fuck Baptist, fuck her father, and fuck the Crawford family. They’re probably already thinking about how they can destroy me for turning Heiko away and for punching their precious little William. The whole situation makes my skin crawl and I don’t care if it’s only going to bring me pain.
At least pain is something I can feel.
The doors ding and I meet my driver out front. “Did you see a man and a woman leave in a car not too long ago?”
He nods once, frowning. Mike’s a former Marine and looks like he can handle himself in a fight. I keep him around because he’s a good driver, he’s reliable, and he always has his eyes open.
“I’m not sure. I was parked behind a big black Caddy with some people inside a minute ago.” He points east on Market. “They’re headed that way.”
“Follow them.”
We get into the car and speed off. Mike weaves through traffic, doing his best to catch up. He squints out the front windshield. “I think I see them, but I’m not sure.”
“Keep going.” My heart’s racing and I realize I’m jittery. Since when do I get jittery? This feeling is strange and foreign and I realize it’s nerves.
Nerves?
What the fuck are nerves?
I don’t get nervous. I don’t get worried. I don’t sit in the back of a car and wonder if a girl is okay.
But this is what I mean. Marie makes me feel things I never dreamed I could, and it’s like walking outside one day to realize you’re no longer blind, and now you know what green and yellow and blue mean. My palms are slightly sweaty, and my underarms are damp, and my heart’s beating fast like I’ve been out running, and it’s exhilarating and terrible all at once.
How the hell do people live with all these feelings?
“Shit, is that her?” Mike’s leaning forward, squinting. Ahead, two lights further, a figure leaps from the black of a large black SUV and runs down Seventeenth, heading south, loping along in heels.
“Follow her. Forget the car. Go after the girl.”
Mike grunts and swerves, squealing around a slow truck and turns. He takes Seventeenth south, but we get stuck in a line of traffic trying to cross over Chestnut. “Come on, fuckers,” Mike says, honking. “Move your fucking shit.”
I lean back and try to still my breathing, but I can’t keep it together. Marie’s running away, but why? What would her father say or do that would make her jump out of the car? I can’t see her in the crowd of people in the most congested part of the city, and slowly Mike gets past Chestnut, over Walnut, and I’m scanning the sidewalk again. Nothing, nothing, where the hell is she?
We reach South Street, but still no Marie. I’m about to tell Mike to turn around and circle the block when I spot a girl in heels walking with a man just ahead. The man’s got one hand on her arm, and though the girl isn’t trying to get away, I know that posture. It’s defensive and it’s scared.
And I know that outfit. That hair. The way she moves her hips.
“Stop,” I order and Mike slams on the brakes, earning a honk from the car behind us. “I’m getting out. Circle around here and wait for my call.” I jump out and step onto the sidewalk. Mike pulls off and I wait a beat, cross to the opposite side, and catch up with the pair.
They don’t spot me as they pause at an intersection. The girl is definitely Marie. Her face is tear-soaked and her hair is messy from the run. She’s got a beautiful sheen of sweat on her upper lip and I feel a sudden pang of desire rush down my spine and gather in my cock as I think about licking it off her face.
But I hesitate, not moving, because the man with her is Heiko Child, and he’s whispering something to her with a smug look on his face.
The Crawfords have her.
I could let her go. This still isn’t my fight. I know what Baptist would say. In situations like this, when I don’t know what a normal person would decide, I try to think about what my best friend would tell me. Let the girl go, Ansell. You don’t want to get dragged through hell for a piece of ass. This will fuck you beyond any fucking you’ve ever gotten before. Walk away, you stupid idiot.
