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Oh yes. So happy.
An abrupt knocking woke us up again. I was on my third time, this was Brett’s second. The knocking wouldn’t stop. Hard. Insistent. Brett cursed, stalking over. He opened the door, barking, “Fucking what?”
A muffled conversation happened after that.
I was awake. Barely. But I was up, and squinting at the clock, saw it was after five in the morning. The other call had been two hours ago. What was going on?
Brett was still in the hallway with the door slightly closed, so I grabbed my bag and slipped into the bathroom. I took a quick shower. The door was closed when I came back out and Brett was dressed, rifling through his bag.
I stopped in my tracks. “What are you doing?”
He threw a distracted look my way, his eyes skimming over me before returning to his bag. “I have to go.”
A knot rooted deep in my sternum. “What?” I stepped toward him.
“I have to go.” He zipped up his bag.
His wallet and phone were next to his bag on the bed.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to go—”
Something in me snapped. I rushed over and just as he was about to pick up his bag, I snagged it, walking to the other side of the bed. Holding it on the other side of me, as if he would lunge across the bed for it, I leveled him with a look. “Okay. We’re going to start over because it’s obvious you’re forgetting a very important key phrase we both said to the other not long ago.”
He scowled, but it was me so he was trying to hold most of it back. “I don’t have time for this—”
“I’m aware. So stop wasting both of our time. You and me? We’re together. You said it yourself unless you were lying when you informed me how much you loved me as you slowly inched that giant dick inside me?”
His eyes heated, but his mouth went into a flatline. “You can’t come with me.”
“Well, that’s bullshit and we both know it.”
“Billie,” he sighed, running an impatient hand through his beard.
“Where I go, you go. You stick like glue,” I quoted him. “Remember those words? How does that not apply here?”
His hands were in fists. He growled, “Because that guy is caught—”
“So all the other people out there, who are highly disturbed, and unhealthily fixated on the Midwest Butcher, and who knows how many others are now obsessed with the Copier Killer? All those people don’t matter? Now, what? You’re off to do whatever the fuck you’re off to do and I get to go my merry way back to Texas? Lo and Roger are right now on their way to the airport. Travis left yesterday. I was supposed to go back with you.”
Some of his glowering dissipated. “I made arrangements for your own private plane—”
Oh my God. I wanted to scream and throw things at him for two reasons. One, a private plane? I’ve never traveled on a private plane. And the other, he did it now? When it was so apparent I wasn’t going to leave without him. I met his level of growling with my own, and it quieted him.
“You have anything breakable in here?” I held up his bag.
His head raised, wary. “No. Why?”
I let loose with the most aggravated grunt I could muster as I slammed his bag down on the bed. “You got me a private plane now? Now? I’m not going. Where you go, I go. Where you move, I move, and now I’m going to have that song in my head all day, but if you try to take one step out of this hotel room without me going with you, I will—”
Brett’s gaze flared, darkening. “You’ll what?”
I swallowed my threat, not totally sure myself what I was willing to say, but this would affect me. He had to know that. “If you leave me in the dust here, there will be consequences.”
“You can’t say that shit without backing it up. Put it out there. I need to know what kind of woman you are when you don’t get your way?” he tossed back, so icily.
I was stung by those words, but swallowing past the pain, I just shook my head. “Nice to know that’s the kind of guy you are when your woman’s not doing what you want. You throw out stereotypes. Like it when I do it back? Trust me, I’ve met my fair share of creeps. I could do this game all day long.”
