“It’s really not something you have to worry about.”
“I’m not worried,” he said tightly. It was clear he didn’t want to talk about this, and it was only a sense of responsibility that made him do so. “But if you might be, we need to get you to a doctor.”
My shoulders slumped. Here it was. He was going to think I was a freak, and—my face went hot, and then cold—what was he going to think of me kissing him the night we met? I didn’t want to talk about this. I pushed myself up, palms almost slipping on the floor, and escaped into the main room.
…Which wasn’t really an escape at all.
“Lara.” He was leaning against the doorway. “What’s wrong?” I turned around and opened my mouth, and he shook his head. “Not the, ‘my fiancé is a murderer’ thing. It’s something else this time. But you’re sick, and…”
“I’m not sick.” I forced the words out. “I killed someone. I shot someone. And I didn’t even think about waiting for the police and taking my punishment for it, I just ran. That’s who I am, apparently—I’m someone who just wants to get away with…killing someone.”
“That’s why you threw up?” He didn’t sound like he was entirely convinced. “Look, if it helps—that guy didn’t care if you lived or died. No one gets paid to haul a woman back to a nice guy. If he’s nice, she doesn’t run—or he lets her go. Every one of those guys knew what he was taking you back to.”
“That doesn’t help,” I said precisely. “More people who don’t care if I live or die doesn’t help, it just makes the world worse.”
He hesitated.
“Oh, come on.” I was annoyed. “Whatever you’re going to say, say it.”
“It’s just…” He considered. “The world isn’t getting worse. You’re just seeing more of it.”
“Well, I hate it. This was what I was with Adrian to avoid.” I flung the words at him, and couldn’t tell if I was pleased or not to see him flinch. “People screwing each other over for a buck. This was what I wanted to get away from. And here I am, stuck in it again. You never get away from it, Cee was right. I should have known it would follow me.”
“It didn’t follow you.” He shook his head. “People are like that everywhere. The rich do it as much as the poor. The people with millions still think they’re on the edge of ruin.”
I snorted.
He raised his eyebrows. “It’s true.” Then he looked down, his face falling. He let out a slow breath.
“What is it?” My attention was caught.
He considered. His arms were crossed, his eyes fixed on the ugly print on the rug.
“That’s why there are people like me,” he said finally. He looked up, and his eyes were flat. “Screwing other people over for a buck.”
“That’s not what you said before. You said you killed…people the world would be better off without.”
He gave the ghost of a smile. “Right. Let’s get you to bed. Lara…you did nothing wrong. That guy was trying to hurt you. You get to defend yourself, that’s a right you have.”
I scratched at one arm distractedly; the throwing up had brought me out in chills. My shoulders hunched.
“It doesn’t feel right,” I admitted.
“For what it’s worth, I’m glad. There’d be some serious questions if you didn’t feel this way.”
That, at last, made me laugh. I laughed until I sat down on the bed in a rush and started to cry, and I pushed Jack away when he came to crouch down next to me.
“I’m all right,” I managed. “I’m all right.” I wiped my eyes. “I’m going to be all right.”
The look in his eyes said that he knew I was trying to persuade myself.
“And since I have the feeling that you’re going to start googling symptoms the minute I get in bed—” I gave him a look “—there’s no way in hell I’m pregnant.” I paused, and took the plunge. “Adrian and I have never done…anything. I’m a virgin.” If this day wasn’t shit from start to finish, I’d be genuinely amused by the look on his face. As it was, I was in no mood for it. “We good? Can I go back to bed now?”
“You’ve…never?”
“Yeah, I know, very funny. I’m a spinster.” I shot the words at him.
“But why?”
“None of your damned business.” Like hell I was going to tell him that the more I thought about it, the more I had questions on why Adrian had never even pressed me. Like hell I was going to admit that I’d just realized how undesirable I was. I didn’t want him to think of me that way.
He looked away. “Right.” His voice was a tumble of things, none of which I wanted to know about. “I’ll, uh…let you be.” He went back to his bed and slipped under the covers.
There. I’d told him, and he thought it was weird. I blew out my breath in a sigh.
Well, this sucked.
I needed something to distract myself. After a second, I padded to the desk and picked up his phone. I swiped across, and was intrigued to see that there wasn’t a pass code on it.
Distraction. I brought it back to my bed and swiped through the programs. There were only a few that didn’t come pre-loaded: a running app, a lifting app. No snapchat, no twitter, not even Facebook.
Facebook. With a sudden frown, I brought up his browser and signed in to my account.
And then the message light blinked. I froze, looking over at Jack, and then tapped it carefully.
It was Damien. I let my breath out in a whoosh.
Lara?
Hi, I typed back.
I need to see you.
I paused. The memory of our last meeting was still there, him offering to give me somewhere to stay, and…
He must have sensed my hesitation: I have information about everything that happened. I learned some things. I need to talk to you.
Oh. Where? I typed back.
Tomorrow. El Toro, at 8?
I gave a grimace. It wasn’t one of the most fashionable steakhouses—he clearly didn’t want to be seen—but it was nice. And I had, to my name, one pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.
How about McDonald’s? Can’t really get any of my clothes. I typed the words almost defiantly. Why had I spent so much time trying not to remind Damien and Adrian of where I’d come from? They both knew.
I’ll get you a dress. Go to Bloomingdale’s tomorrow, tell them to put it on my account.
I rolled my eyes, but I knew better than to argue with him. Okay.
The icon showed that he was typing. It appeared and disappeared as he seemed to revise his words, until: I’m so glad you’re safe. He started typing again.
I didn’t want to know what he was going to say. Midnight confessions were just the sort of thing I had learned to avoid.
I’ll see you tomorrow. I have to go now. I signed out and closed the browser, and then tipped my head back and considered the ceiling.
I didn’t want to do this. The more I thought about it, the more I just wanted to run away. I didn’t care if I ended up in a cabin in a national park, or on some ranch way out in herding country. I just wanted to get away from here. I could picture myself, wind in my hair, an open sky as far as the eye could see, and…
Jack, smiling at me.
I swallowed hard. Then I put the phone on the nightstand, curled up under the covers, and refused to think of anything at all until sleep claimed me.
Chapter 21
Jack
I stared at the computer screen, swearing softly under my breath. My research on Adrian was yielding precisely nothing except his repeated, public pleas for Lara to come home—pleas laced with the sly insinuations that Damien was somehow behind all of this. There weren’t details, but then, Adrian was apparently smart enough to realize he didn’t need details. He only needed to start whispers, and people’s minds would fill in the rest. Meanwhile, he looked like the perfect, adoring fiancé, of course.
And Damien claimed to have information on this creep, which was something neither Lara nor I could reasonably ignore…
I ignored the little voice in my head that said that Lara didn’t seem to care that she was wearing sweatpants and eating diner food these days. That voice, I told myself brutally, was only wishful thinking on my part. Lara wanted the good things in life, everyone did, and she was used to them, too.
And when Damien was the one to prove that Adrian was the big bad wolf…who was Lara going to turn to?
I knew the answer, and—I closed the laptop and squeezed my eyes shut for a moment—I knew it was going to happen no matter what I found. Damien was her friend. Once she was free of Adrian, he wasn’t going to let her forget about him. He was going to pursue her, and make grand romantic gestures, and eventually, Lara was going to fall for him.
“You okay?”
I jumped. Lara, a dress bag draped over her arm, was staring at me worriedly.
“Yeah. Just…tired.” I stood, laptop under my arm, and held my hand out for the bag. “Shall we?”
“I suppose. I can carry it. I need to stop at a drugstore, too. Get some makeup.”
“They don’t have makeup here?” I could have sworn I saw some counters, all with excessively cheerful saleswomen.
“I…” She lifted one shoulder awkwardly. “Look, I don’t mean to impose on you, and I’ll definitely pay you back for everything, okay? I just don’t want to get anything more here, now, on Damien’s card.”
“Okay.” I led her toward the door, ideas swirling in my head, and it was a good few minutes later that I finally voiced it. “Why don’t you want to have Damien buy it?”
Her face colored and she looked down at the dress bag she carried. There was a box for shoes as well. She muttered something.
“What?”
“I said…” She looked up and sighed. “I don’t want to owe him. Any more than I have to.”
I opened my mouth, and then closed it again. I wasn’t even sure what I wanted to say, and I kind of liked the idea of her not wanting to owe him. It reassured me.
My phone buzzed and I took it out of my pocket to peer at it. I had told her that she might as well install Facebook, and I was regretting it. Damien had been messaging her all morning.
“Him again?” She’d seen the look on my face. “Just ignore it. I’ll see him tonight, he can talk to me then.”
“No, it’s…” I stopped. “He says he has a place for you to stay.”
“I’ll deal with it when we get back.” She shook her head.
“I’m sure we could just go there now.” We might as well get this over with. The sooner I got her out of my life, the sooner I could try to forget her.
“I’m not going to stay with him.” Her voice was impatient. “Unless…” She paused. “Do you want me to go?”
“No, I just figured—well, living in a hotel doesn’t let you settle in, and my apartment isn’t great.”
“I liked your apartment,” she said.
I pushed away the instinct to believe her. She was just being polite.
“Look, I just think staying with him would give him the wrong idea. And I’d owe him for that, then, too.” She shook her head at the idea, and murmured a thank you when I held open the door of the hotel for her. As we crossed the lobby, she seemed lost in thought, and she didn’t speak again until the elevator doors had closed and we were alone. “I feel safer with you. Is it okay if I stay for a bit more time? We can get a smaller room if you want, I’ll sleep on the couch—and I’ll pay you back for all of it, too. I promise. I’m not sure how, but I will.”
“It’s fine.” I had more money than I knew what to do with, to be honest. Not enough for a whole wardrobe of $5,000 dresses and a penthouse apartment, but certainly enough for a few nights in a hotel.
Not to mention, the idea that she felt safer with me than Damien made me feel comfortably smug. I led us through the hallways and unlocked the door of our hotel room. It was only when she laid the dress out on the bed that I remembered.
“We forgot to go to the drugstore.”
“Eh.” She lifted a shoulder and gave me a weary smile. “Damien can deal with me not being made up.” She went back to staring at the dress bag.
“Something wrong?” I sank into the desk chair and began hooking up the laptop.
“Do you have any advice?” She looked up, frowning. “For tonight.”
“I hadn’t thought about it.” Well, that was one of the biggest lies I had ever told. “Are you worried about something?”
“No? Yes. I guess. I’m worried he’ll try to pass off things he just suspects at truths, you know? To try to get me to leave Adrian.” She shook her head. “I’m making him sound terrible. He’s not, he’s really not. I just…I have to know the truth.”
Which meant now wasn’t the time to sympathize with Damien’s all-too-familiar motives. I pressed my palms together as I considered, resting my elbows on my knees.
“Then just make sure to slow down and think about everything he tells you. Think through the implications. If he doesn’t tell you where he found it out, ask him. Make him give you facts. Remember, if he asks you to believe something and won’t give you the facts, it’s not wrong of you to ask, it’s wrong of him not to tell you.”
Her face cleared of its frustration as I spoke, and I wanted to kick myself for how good that made me feel. I wanted to make her smile like this all the time.
“Thank you.” Her smile grew as she nodded. “Jack…one day, I swear I’m going to make all this up to you. Okay?”
I frowned.
She misinterpreted the look: “I know I’m not going to have a lot of money soon. I think, anyway.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t know how, but you’ve put yourself in danger for me. A lot. Whatever you want for the rest of your life, I’ll help you.”
I looked down. I didn’t know how to say that payment wasn’t why I was doing this. I wanted to be able to say that I would have done the same for anyone I found in her position. The truth was, I would have—but not for the same reasons.
I looked up when I heard her sit on the bed. She kicked off her flip flops and tucked her feet up under herself. She was watching me curiously.
“What do you want for the rest of your life?” she asked quietly.
You, me, a ranch in the middle of nowhere. You in a plaid shirt, riding a horse. Us camping in the mountains. Me waking up with you still asleep next to me.
“Not important.” I knew my voice was too harsh, and I looked away so I wouldn’t see her face. “I need to do some research. You should get ready for tonight.”
Chapter 22
Lara
“Fucking—” I twisted, trying to get the zipper up my back. No matter how I contorted, there was no making it work. With a sudden burst of inspiration, I hopped over to the towel rack and jumped, trying to catch the zipper on it and yank the damned thing up by default.
It didn’t work, but I did manage to hit myself in the back with the bar.
“Dammit.” I kept my voice low. Jack had barely said two words to me all afternoon, and since he had both the computer and his phone, I’d ended up spending most of the day staring at a wall. I was now trying to take as long as humanly possible to put on this dress, but there were only so many ways to draw the process out.
Finally, I gave up. With a sigh, I walked out into the main room.
“Could you help me with my zipper?”
At the computer, Jack stiffened slightly. He barely looked as he made his way over and pulled the zipper up, and though his hands were gently, his face was set.
“Is something wrong?” I twisted to look up at him.
&nb
sp; “No.”
“Something is clearly wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong.” He bit the words off and grabbed his keys, still not looking at me. “Let’s just go.”
“I…wow.” Damien gave a laugh as he looked at me. “You look gorgeous.”
I tried to smile, but it didn’t come out quite right. It wasn’t Damien I had wanted to say that to me tonight, and I knew I couldn’t be thinking about that right now. I let Damien lead me to a table and murmured a thank you when he held my chair for me. A waiter set glasses of champagne on the table and melted away unobtrusively.
“Champagne?” I raised my eyebrows, looking around at the red wine on every table. We were at a steakhouse, after all.
“I know it’s your favorite.” Damien’s eyes crinkled. “It always was.”
I gave a little shrug. Something about his tone was too warm, too intimate.
“So. What did you find out?”
He didn’t answer at once. His eyes were on my face, looking me over, and I felt a flicker of instinctive shame. One didn’t show up at a restaurant of this caliber with hair that had been left to air dry and no make up.
“Lara.” He twirled his glass between long fingers, a nervous gesture, and looked away. “Are you safe?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You have a bruise on your arm.”
“That was Adrian. A few days ago.” I shook my head sharply when I saw him open his mouth. “Just—let it be for now.”
“But where have you been?” His voice was urgent. “Did you go back to him? He’s still talking about it in the news, he keeps making statements, and—”
“I didn’t go back. I’m fine, Damien.”
“Did you go to Cecelia’s?” His brow was furrowed. “Lara, I know she’s your sister, but I don’t trust her.”
My cheeks flushed at that. Everyone else had known, apparently, what Cecelia would do if I showed up there. Everyone but me.
HUNTED: A Bad Boy Romance (Books 1-5) Page 10
