by Lane Hart
After the officer leaves, I go back on my register with only twenty minutes of lunch break remaining. And now I can't help my paranoia after our conversation. I’m constantly looking around me, searching out the undercover officer and anyone looking nefarious. I startle at the smallest sound like a cell phone ringing or someone speaking over the intercom. I’m so damn jumpy I’m going to give myself a heart attack at this rate.
So, the next day when a tall, lean man with a faux hawk and a familiar face comes in, I can't help but feel relieved by his presence. I feel a little safer just knowing he’s near. He grins and winks at me, then heads into the rows of groceries before he returns to my register to check out.
"Hey," he says with a wide smile. "How are you doing?" Zaine asks in his deep, soothing baritone.
"I've been better," I answer honestly. "What about you?"
"I'd be better if I could see you later. What time do you get off?" he asks, and I bet he can hear my heart trying to escape my chest.
"Ten," I force the word out through my staggered breath.
"How about tomorrow?" he asks, sounding persistent.
"Seven."
"So, dinner with me at, say, eight at The Sizzler tomorrow night?" he asks.
Oooh, steak. I haven't had steak in so long since it isn't exactly in my budget. I know I can't date anyone, no matter how lonely or horny I might be. It would end the way it always does, and I don't want to hurt Zaine. But I’m desperate for decent company, especially now that I know someone might be after me.
"Okay. I'll meet you there," I agree with a smile.
"Are you sure you don't want me to pick you up?" he offers.
I shake my head no because I don’t want him to see my rundown apartment, and then I ring up his items — beer and fudge cookies. How cute. He gives me the exact amount of money, including the change, and I hand him his receipt.
"See you tomorrow night," he says with his easy-going grin before strolling out of the store, looking like he doesn't have a care in the world.
Must be nice.
Chapter 6
Cash
My determination to stay away from Nadia wavered, and by Monday afternoon I was going by the grocery store to see her. Well, to talk to her. I'd been by a few times since talking to Tom, checking on her, making sure she was okay. The asshole robber was still locked up, but I had a feeling he wasn't working alone if it was, in fact, a kidnapping job.
I stroll through the sliding glass doors of the store after my shift ends and see her working the register. Her back is to me, but I know it’s her by the crimson hair that’s up in a messy bun. The style leaves her neck bare, looking so damn tempting.
I clear the dirty thoughts from my mind, well, most of them, and grab some cereal and milk since Zaine, the jackass, had at least replaced our beer supply. Of course, I go to her line, and she smiles politely at me before she recognizes me.
"Hey, Cash!" she says, her smile brightening.
"Hey, Nadia. How have you been?" I ask. Her violet eyes lower as she begins ringing up my items.
"Good."
"Just good?" I ask, trying to pull more conversation from her.
"Yeah. How about you?" she asks.
"I'm great," I reply.
“Glad to hear that,” she says followed by silence.
"Any chance I could talk you into giving me your number and maybe going out with me sometime?" I ask before I lose my nerve.
Nadia freezes in mid swipe of my milk and glances back up at me. I knew rejection was coming by the pitiful look she gave. "Sorry, Cash, but that's probably not a good idea. You know, because of your roommate and all."
"Who? Zaine?" I mutter in confusion. "What does my roommate have to do with anything?"
"He didn't tell you?” she asks, and I shake my head. “We're, um, going out to dinner tonight," she responds, her cheeks flushing red.
Son of a bitch. That sneaky motherfucker.
"Oh." That’s the only thing I can make my mouth say. This was all my fault. If I hadn't freaked out at the blood at the hospital, then I wouldn't have asked Zaine for a favor and he wouldn't have ever met Nadia.
"I thought he would have told you," she says quietly.
"No, he most definitely did not tell me. I wouldn't have asked you if he had," I reply, handing her a twenty from my wallet for the bill. She gives me my change and receipt, and then it’s time to go.
"Well, have fun tonight," I say, wanting to bite my tongue at the bald-faced lie. Zaine is a man-child. He’s a goofball who is only twenty and still acts like he’s thirteen on his best days.
"Thanks. It was good seeing you again, Cash," Nadia replies, giving me a sad smile.
As soon as I get to my SUV, I sit down and call my wonderful roommate. I figure it’s better to have this conversation over the phone rather than in person since I can’t wrap my hands around his neck from here.
"Hello?" he answers.
"What the fuck?" I ask.
"You'll have to be more specific about which fuck you're referring to."
"Don't play games, asshole. Why didn't you tell me you asked Nadia out?"
"I asked Nadia out,” he mutters. “There, I just did."
"Why would you do that?" I huff.
"Um, because she's hot, and I'm pretty sure she likes me too since she agreed."
"You don't give a shit that I met her first, and that I wanted to ask her out?" I question.
"Not really. I can handle a little friendly competition. Can't you?"
"She turned me down because of you!"
My jackass roommate laughs in my ear. "That’s not my fault."
"Yes, it is! We live together, so she's not going to date us both at the same time."
"Well, if things don't work out with us, then maybe you'll get a chance. Although, you know it's probably not a good idea for you to date her since you'll just end up draining her."
"Asshole," I grumble before hanging up on him.
Now not only am I worried about whoever is after Nadia, but I’m jealous that she’s going out with Zaine. And even though I despise the jerk, now I have to watch his back because he may be in danger too just by going out with her.
It was going to suck to see them together, but I can't help it. I’m going to tail him on their date.
Nadia
I smooth the invisible wrinkles out of my purple button down and black pants, check my hair one last time, and then I leave my first-floor apartment to head to the restaurant. Zaine had asked to pick me up, but I'd declined, not wanting him to see my shitty little apartment in the crappy part of town.
I park my car in the crowded lot and then walk up to the front of the steakhouse when I see him waiting for me out front wearing jeans and a blue button down under his leather coat that I bet will really bring out his eyes.
"Hey," he says with his usual good-natured smile. And I was right. His dark blue eyes are stunning.
"Hey," I reply, giving him a hug. I only come up to his chest because he’s so tall and I’m so short. He smells citrusy sweet and wonderful, just like I remember from a few days ago.
"Our name is on the list, so it shouldn't be much longer. You want to wait inside?" he asks.
"Yeah, it's a little cold out here," I respond, leaving out the part about wanting to be inside because I feel like I’m being watched. At least I have my own black pea coat on tonight so I’m not freezing.
Zaine opens the door for me and I walk in, finding us an empty spot on a bench to wait. He sits close to me, his thigh brushing mine, all warm and heavy. The man sure does make me feel tiny and delicate.
"So, tell me about yourself," he says, with a teasing bump of his leg to mine.
"Not much to tell. I grew up in foster homes, barely graduated high school and have been working shitty jobs to get by ever since."
"Wow," he finally mutters into the silence. What was I trying to do? Run him off? "That must have been tough."
"Yeah, I guess you could say that."
Not knowing when your temporary surrogate parents would get tired of you and ship you off, struggling to keep up with the basics at school, getting picked on for being stupid and for my purple eyes, and stretching pennies to get by has been pretty tough.
"What happened to your parents?" he asks softly.
"I don't know," I reply with a shrug, looking up into his dark blue eyes. "What's your family like?"
He smiles with affection at the mention of his relatives. "Well, I have awesome parents. I couldn't ask for better ones, really. My folks have been married for twenty years, are still completely and madly in love, and both just retired from teaching."
"That all sounds…perfect," I tell him.
He nods. "Yeah, I've been lucky."
"So, how old are you?" I ask him.
"Twenty. I've done the math, and I was born ten months after my parents got married," he says with a wink. "How old are you?"
I smile at his remark. "Thirty-two."
"No shit!" he exclaims, pulling back to look at me. "I would've guessed, like, twenty-one at most. I was hoping you were at least legal drinking age to score us some liquor."
"I can definitely drink."
"Good to know," he laughs, right as the hostess calls for "Zaine, party of two."
"That's us," Zaine says as if I hadn’t noticed, standing up and grabbing my hand to pull me along. His fingers are long and thin like the rest of him, but warm and strong when they squeeze mine. It feels nice to touch another human for the first time in a long time.
I must not be the only one who thinks so, because Zaine’s movements suddenly pause when we’re supposed to be following the hostess. He looks down at me, his eyes glazing over when he says, “I really want to kiss you right now.”
“Ah, well, let’s eat first,” I suggest as I give his hand a tug to lead the way in search of the hostess.
She’s already put the menus and cutlery down on a booth table when we catch up. I release Zaine’s hand to slide into one side. He shakes his head as if clearing it and then takes a seat on the other side.
“Did I say that out loud?” he asks, lowering his voice. “The part about…kissing you?”
“Yes, you did.”
“Sorry,” he says with a wince.
“Don’t worry. It’s fine,” I tell him as I start reading over the menu in front of me. Or trying to. Dammit, there are no pictures.
"So, what are you getting?" I ask, hoping it’s something I like too.
"Probably the filet mignon with mashed potatoes and green beans. What about you?" he replies while still examining the menu that might as well have been written in a foreign language. I recognize some words like chicken and salad, but the rest is gibberish.
"That sounds good. I think I'll have the same," I tell him. Other than asking for a bottle of Daughtry's, I let him do the ordering.
"I can't figure you out," Zaine says out of nowhere, lifting his chilled mug of golden liquid to his lips a few minutes later.
I almost spit out my swallow of beer. "Don't worry. I can't figure myself out."
"Do you wear contacts?" he asks with a furrowed brow, his eyes studying my unusual color.
I shake my head and smile. "Nope. That's the real color. Strange I know, right?"
"They're crazy unusual, and really damn beautiful."
"Thanks," I say, feeling warmth spreading on my cheeks.
"And your hair? It's naturally that dark red?" he questions.
"Uh-huh. All natural."
"And you work in a grocery store. You seem smart, so why work where they basically pay peanuts?" he asks, his tone inquisitive, telling me he’s curious and not trying to be insulting. I think.
I squirm in my seat, not wanting to tell the whole truth. "I have limited options."
"Do you like working there?" he asks.
"No. My boss is a jackass, and the long shifts and hours suck."
"What would you be doing if you could do anything in the world?"
I bite my lip, not having to think about the answer but hesitating to admit it. "I like drawing, so some sort of career as an illustrator or artist would be awesome."
"What do you draw?"
"You ask a lot of questions," I tell Zaine with a puff of laughter. "I feel like I'm on trial."
"Sorry," he says, leaning back in his booth. "I just want to know more about you."
"Tell me something about you. So far the conversation has been too one-sided."
"Fine," he says with an exhale. "There's not much to me. What you see is what you get. And I work as an EMT, which is great work but pays pennies. That’s why I share a place with Cash.”
"How long have you and Cash been roommates?” I ask.
“About two years.”
“Really? Wow. To not kill each other after that long, you must get along pretty well."
Zaine rolls his eyes. "Not exactly. We’ve been at each other’s throats since day one. Cash is sort of uptight and takes shit way too seriously.”
I nod in understanding, wondering if that has something to do with his ‘unusual’ condition. I also get the feeling that Zaine is on the far side of the personality spectrum and probably annoys the shit out of Cash by being so upbeat and outgoing.
"So, do you date much?" Zaine asks, surprising me with the sudden topic change.
"Umm." I take a swallow of beer to figure out how to answer that. "No, I don't."
After the third man I slept with fell unconscious while we were in the middle of having intercourse, I figured it'd be best not to keep repeating that mistake. There's only ever been one exception over the years, but he was only a one-night stand.
"And I should be honest with you, Zaine. I'm not looking for any type of…romantic relationship. I don't want to mislead you just because I agreed to dinner."
"Oh," he mutters, the disappointment clear in his voice and fallen face.
"I did want to come out to dinner. I like being around you, and it's not that I'm not attracted to you, because I am. It's just," I pause in my rambling to figure out how to wrap it up. "I don't want to hurt you," Physically or emotionally I leave off. “So, could we just maybe be…friends?”
“Just friends?” Zaine repeats slowly.
"Here you go," the waiter says, sitting a big plate of food in front of each of us. “Do you need anything else?”
"No thanks," we both say, dismissing him.
"This looks great," I tell Zaine, grabbing my fork and knife to dig in. It smells delicious too.
And I’m so absorbed by the tantalizing steak in front of me that I don’t notice a strange man approaching our table. Not until a gloved hand jerks on my arm to pull me right out of the booth. Before I can react, he slaps his palm over my mouth and then his thick arm is banded tight across my waist.
It feels like time is standing still. The restaurant is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Zaine looks up wide-eyed for a second and then he’s out of his seat. Behind him, another man cocks a gun and presses it against Zaine’s head.
"Don’t breathe or I'll pull the trigger," the cold looking man with shaggy brown hair warns Zaine.
I decide then and there that I would rather put up a fight and die than go anywhere with these assholes. I’ve still got a grip on the knife in my left hand from the steak I didn't get to eat, so I stab it right into the arm that’s holding me around the waist. The man yelps in pain and drops me just like I had hoped. When I’m down on the ground, I kick my left foot out, connecting with the gunman's knee and bending it the wrong way to distract him.
Now what the fuck am I supposed to do?
l look up from the floor and think I must be hallucinating. Cash is behind Zaine’s gunman, disarming him with a punch to the side of his face, just like he did Friday night to the robber, knocking the shit out of him.
"They're after Nadia. Get her out of here!" Cash yells to Zaine. "Not the front."
With a surprising show of strength, Zaine picks me up and throws me over his sho
ulder in a fireman's carry, and then he’s moving quickly through the kitchen and out the restaurant’s back door.
Chapter 7
Zaine
My life just flashed before my eyes, and it was really fucking pathetic.
I could’ve died tonight! A man was holding a gun right up to my head! One twitch of his finger and, boom, my brains would’ve been splattered across the room.
That shit was scary. But what’s even scarier is there wasn’t a damn thing I, a weak warlock, could do to stop the bad guys.
Nadia, sweet, terrified Nadia, took down the man with the gun while I stood frozen. Now it’s my turn to keep her safe until I figure out what the fuck those men wanted from her and why Cash was stalking us.
Not that I can really bitch about that now since my brooding roommate saved our asses.
I hesitate for a second at the end of the alley, having no fucking idea which direction to run, before I remember I actually know someone who lives nearby. Someone I can trust with this crazy shit. Heading left, I carry Nadia into the residential area. I’m not sure if it’s the adrenaline or what, but she feels light as a feather hanging over my shoulder.
After we’re a good block or two away, she finally speaks for the first time since we made our escape. "I can walk, you know!"
I shush her in case we’re being followed and keep moving until we come up on a row of townhouses. Taking a quick peek over my shoulder to make sure the street is empty, I go up to Trent’s door and knock rapidly non-stop until it opens. When it does, I push my way past the burly shifter.
"Hey…what the hell? Zaine?" Trent’s deep voice grumbles, but I shush him too.
Trying to think quickly, I finally lower Nadia’s feet to the floor to go and turn the locks on his door and then run around the room, turning off the television and flipping off the lights until the three of us are standing in complete darkness and silence.
