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25
Libby
Romeo
Somehow, what started as a fun trip away has now ended in the world’s longest road trip. Hours on hours on hours of driving. Gunner and I travel in the Range Rover and follow Jay and Soph’s car, and we cross state lines somewhere in the middle of the night as Spence switches out, folds his bulky frame into the back seat to sleep, and Jay takes over driving their car.
Gunner refuses to switch. He refuses to take any respite, and because I know he must be tired, I force myself to stay awake for the ride.
We drive for about fourteen or fifteen hours, to arrive at a shitty hotel on the side of the highway not long after the sun comes up.
From a log cabin to this. It’s like the world’s worst joke, as, after Soph checks us in and collects four room keys from reception, we take one and let ourselves into the room beside Spence’s.
One bed, one small table not unlike the kind I had and threw away after I stubbed my toe. One bathroom, old but clean, and one box TV.
I know a life of luxury. And I know a life of living well below my means. I know both ends of the spectrum, and it’s not like I’m fussy. But shit, to leave the cabin and come here is almost enough to wind me.
“Come on.” Gunner follows me in and closes the door at my back. “We need to sleep. The rest can wait.” He places our suitcases on the rickety table, kicks his shoes off, and when I don’t move, he shoves me back so I flop onto the bed, then he works on unlacing my sneakers.
I think I’m in an exhausted coma. Unable to compute, unable to make decisions. I should be starving, but I don’t feel the hunger. Not even for the pack of cookies I never got to start at the cabin. I should be itching for a shower, but washing my whole body seems like such a massive chore. I should even wonder about the fourth key that Soph got, considering those of us that arrived today only fill three rooms. But I do nothing except curl up on the lumpy bed in jeans and a shirt, and when Gunner tosses my shoes and scoops me up to settle my head on the pillows, I close my eyes and try to stay awake long enough to feel him crawl onto the bed behind me.
It’s somewhere around seven in the morning, and the sunlight streaming through the shitty curtains should make it impossible to sleep, but we haven’t been horizontal in more than twenty-four hours, and my brain has gone to mush.
“Sleep, Libby.”
He makes himself comfortable behind me, tucks his legs beneath mine, and wraps his arm around my chest. A gentle kiss pressed to the back of my neck is the last thing I remember as I drift into an exhausted sleep, and I don’t come back out again until the middle of the afternoon.
* * *
At five on the dot,when the sun is already going down and Gunner and I have found enough brainpower to have a shower and clean ourselves up, the five of us pull up outside a honkytonk about fifteen minutes from our hotel and take a look around the parking lot.
“Who are we meeting here?” The very second we climb out of our cars and meet at the front of the Range Rover, Gunner asks them the question he’s asked me a hundred times in the last hour. “Why are we here?”
“We’re meeting a guy that works for me,” Soph answers dismissively. “We call him Romeo. He’s cool, he’s one of us.”
“And remind me again why we’re meeting him? It’s not that I don’t trust your choices,”He doesn’t trust her choices at all, “but I don’t get it.”
“He’s military muscle and a sharpshooter. Best shooter I know.”
“Not better than Kane,” Jay grumbles. “Don’t forget your loyalties, Sophia Solomon.”
“You guys like to shoot?” Gunner looks from one face to the next. I don’t think he meant to speak, but now it’s out, and all three of our visitors study him with lifted brows. “Fuck it. Nevermind.” He snags my hand and tries to push through the group.
“We like to shoot,” Jay answers. “We practice a lot, we compete with each other. My best in the range is a five-forty-five, and best long distance is eleven hundred yards. Four shots, four hits with a gentle breeze.” He lifts his chin, almost as though waiting for his ‘good boy’. “You?”
Gunner shrugs as though he’s not interested in playing. But his jaw tells another story. The way it grinds says that he has a lot to say, but isn’t allowing himself the freedom. “Sometimes. Nothing like yours.”
Jay nods. “Spence owns the range in town. Could probably ask him to help or whatever.” He throws a beefy arm over Soph’s shoulder, and without another word, leads her into the dimly lit bar so the rest of us stand in silence.
“He’s trying to like you,” Spence says. He tilts his head in the direction Jay just left. “He used to crush on Griffin tech, he would have squealed like a little bitch if he’d known you were in the house… before the part where you hit on Soph.”
Gunner clears his throat and wipes a hand over his lips. “That was my bad. Picked the wrong target.”
Spence watches Gunner for a long minute. Considers. Nods. “That’s what I figured. You’re with her,” he nods toward me, “you’resuperattached to her, so I believe you that hitting on Soph was a business move. It was a stupid move, but it was tactical and had nothing to do with her legs or stealing her from him in particular. It was just a bad target all round.” He turns away, so we follow him in. “He wants to like you, and he’s coming around to the tactical thing. Hitting on her for business is much more palatable than hitting on her because you wanna seduce her.”
“I don’t wanna fuck her.”
Spence chuckles. “I know. Chick cop has a reputation around town. She’s a savage, and seeing as she’s super attached to you too, I doubt you’re willing to risk losing your nuts. Bishop brothers aren’t your enemies, Griffin. They’re the best guys I know, and they don’twantenemies. Don’t hit on or hurt their women, and you’ll be fine. It’s gonna take time, but mind your business, and things will get less tense around here soon.”
