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“Tiggy, Dada!?” She squealed and started clapping her hands together. I was covered in tattoos, but the way that little girl lit up at the sight of this one had me considering going right back to my artist to have her cover every single one with my kiddo’s favorite characters from her movies and books. I had to choke back some ridiculous emotions when Faith leaned down to kiss her beloved friend.
“Maybe we’ll give it another try at talking your Mama into painting your room orange now, huh?” I asked and winked at her.
“There is absolutely no chance of that, Mr. Anderson,” Liz scoffed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
trista
Neither of us had much success at sleeping after the call from Memphis. Utah spent the rest of the night staring at the computer screen in his lap while Indy sent him constant updates about the locations that we could use to say was Utah’s drop point for me, information about where they believed Jersey was, and reading random, ridiculous text messages where Indy would ask Utah to ask me for my little insights into Jersey’s personality. Apparently, Memphis was unwilling to offer any speculation on just how dominant Jersey was when it came to sex. It might’ve been wildly inappropriate, but it was also the only bit of relief that any of us had from the stress of the rest of the situation.
The moment that Utah sat his phone on the center console in his truck before we left the hotel parking lot, a text message popped up on the screen from a number that wasn’t listed with a contact name. The way that he stared at the screen in confusion drew my eyes straight to it right after that. The smirk that took over his face once he picked it up held my attention, and then I watched while this dude, who had biceps the size of my entire waist, fucking blushed at the phone in his hand.
“Oh, my fucking God,” I said and moved as fast as I could to get my own phone out. “That’s Memphis, isn’t it!?”
I couldn’t get my fingers to work quickly enough to pull up her contact in my phone to see if I could remember the number that had flashed across his screen.
“It is,” I said, still not actually knowing for sure. “I fucking know it’s her. Why else would you blush? What’d she say? What’s the message?”
He locked the screen on his phone and put it in his pocket rather than risk sitting it between us another time.
“It said, and I quote: mind your own business, you nosey little shit.”
“And I thought we were friends,” I said and held my hand over my heart like he’d just stabbed it. “Are you good with women? Or are you more like —?” I stopped myself before I could go there.
“Were you about to say Jersey? Please tell me that you were. This will instantly become the best day of my life if you were about to ask if I’m good with women or if I’m more like Jersey because he is not good with women.”
“That’s —. Okay, listen. Yeah, I was going to say Jersey —.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever actually been this happy,” he interrupted.
“Stop it. Listen. That’s not how I meant that.”
“Oh, for sure, keep going. I can’t wait to hear you try to talk yourself out of this.”
“Utah!”
The way that he smiled at me suddenly had me hoping that all of us really would make it back to Jersey’s house. The possibility of getting out of this situation alive, but without Jersey, left me with no real reason to keep trying to run. It all shifted in a matter of a few days and suddenly, everything about the future that I’d imagined hinged on Jersey. Then it shifted again when these other three people were dropped into my world. Bickering with this giant guy, who should’ve been ridiculously terrifying, just for fun was something I had just never done. I hadn’t had friends since I was a child, but it felt like this was probably what friends did.
“Jersey is amazing with women,” I said. “Just, you know, in a really messed up way that I imagine doesn’t appeal to normal women.”
“Is Memphis really a normal woman?” He asked.
“Awe.”
“Okay. That’s enough of that.”
“I wish I knew more about her,” I said. “I would tell you pretty much anything if I thought it would help, but I don’t know her. Jersey’s been working with her for like five years and he doesn’t even know anything about her.”
“Nobody knows anything about her. Indy’s been a persistent little shit in trying to figure out who they both are. Hasn’t gotten anywhere.”
“Are all of you this crazy?” I asked.
“Probably.”
* * *
We spent that entire day in the creepiest of creepy abandoned fucking train graveyards, turning an empty shipping container into a makeshift prison cell that could record uninterrupted footage of me just hanging out in there for hours. It was the single most frustrating way to spend hours on end just to make sure there was enough of that recording to keep Nate’s people believing it was happening in real time without any of it having to repeat.
