by Jasmin Quinn
Dean sighed. “Kelsie, yes, I’m a cop. But right now, I have no money, no ID, not even my fucking gun. I’m on the run with a woman I don’t trust. Who doesn’t trust me. I’m not going to give you the opportunity to run off on me, grab a bus or a cab. Or call someone. So right now, I’m in charge of the money, the cellphone and the credit cards. You’ll get used to it.”
Kelsie shook her head angrily as she snapped the twenty out of his hands. “What do you want for breakfast, you misogynist asshole?”
Dean grinned in spite of himself. “That’s my girl.”
She had a latte and a bacon and egg breakfast sandwich on an English muffin. He had a black coffee and two sausage and egg breakfast sandwiches on buttermilk biscuits. As She pulled off onto a side-street and parked in a residential area, Dean moved up front into the passenger seat. They were silent for a while, drinking their coffee and eating their breakfast sandwiches. He watched her openly as she pulled a piece of bacon from her sandwich, popped it into her mouth and chewed it down.
“For some reason, I wouldn’t have pegged you as the bacon type,” he ventured. He was starting to feel better having some food in him. He had washed down a couple of Tylenol with the coffee. The pills reduced the pain in his side, the caffeine in the coffee perked him up and he was feeling safer now that they were out of her neighbourhood and on the road. And grateful for some reason, that she was there and that she ate bacon.
She looked over at him as she chewed. “Why not?”
He shrugged. “You just seem so straight. I would have almost pegged you as vegan if you didn’t drive an SUV with a leather interior.” And it was true. She had dressed herself in new designer jeans, a soft Italian cream knit blouse, and expensive slip-on canvas shoes, no socks – he liked that fact. Her long soft curls were tied away from her face, back into a pony tail, profiling her high cheekbones and making her look younger than she was. Her complexion was milky and flawless, and she wore very little makeup, some mascara to give her light blue eyes more punch, a pale pink gloss on her full luscious lips. Small diamond studs in her perfectly shaped ears. One piercing in each ear, her only piercings and no tats anywhere on her body. Dean grinned at his train of thought.
“Wow,” Kelsie replied dryly, “you really know how to sweet talk a girl.” She too was feeling lighter and more centred. Leaving her house with Dean, with her suitcase and her passport, made her feel freer and more optimistic than she had in years. She didn’t have an ordinary life anymore. She didn’t want to die or be hurt or for that matter, even get a sunburn, but she felt oddly alive and free. “You don’t really know anything about me, Dean. Maybe of all the houses in all the world, you walked into mine. And maybe I’m not who you think I am.”
Dean considered her thoughtfully. “If you’re not who I think you are, then who are you?”
“Maybe I’m a spy or an assassin,” she countered.
He snorted, “You’re not a spy or an assassin.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you can’t fight worth shit,” he shot back.
Kelsie smiled a little as she considered this. Dean was right. She had never been in any situation that would’ve required her to resort to violence. No reason to fight, no reason to swear, no reason to be anything but calm, collected and in control, which was what had been expected her entire life. She took a deep breath as she thought about this. She truly felt liberated. It started last night, when she pushed back at Dean, when she launched herself at him as he was threatening to tie her up, when she remembered his muscular body in the shower. She looked over at Dean who was watching her.
“You’re right,” she conceded. “I’m not a spy and I don’t really know how to fight. But I do have other skills that I can use to help us out of this mess.” Then she smiled at him for the first time since he forced himself into her life. “So, boss, what’s next?” she said as she took the last bite of her breakfast sandwich.
After they finished their coffees, Dean instructed Kelsie to drive towards Richmond. He wanted to put some miles between the Russians and himself. He and Kelsie wouldn’t necessarily blend in well in Richmond with its huge Asian population, but they could check into a motel and lay low for a few days while he healed a bit more, got some clothes, an identity and a little fire power. He needed to think about how to get home to his apartment where he had a bundle of cash and the weapons he was going to need to clean up this mess. But whoever fucked him over would be watching for him.
He glanced over at Kelsie, who was concentrating on her driving, moving in and out of heavy traffic with the skill of a race car driver. At first, he was afraid for his life as she careened her way to the outskirts of Vancouver, but then he realized her driving was a reflection of who she was – smart, skilled, precise. He just needed to believe her, just needed to trust her.
As Kelsie drove south into Richmond, Dean suddenly barked, “Pull in over there.” He was pointing to a store front. Imperial Pawn Shop. She neatly maneuvered the SUV over three lanes and deftly made a left-hand turn in front of an oncoming tractor-trailer unit. As she pulled into a parking spot, she asked, “What are we pawning?”
Dean hesitated, not knowing how she was going to react, then he dug into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the two rings. He opened his hand and picked up the engagement ring and held it in front of her. “This.”
Her face shuttered as she looked first at the engagement ring he was holding up and then the wedding band in his other hand. “Pawn them both,” she said flatly.
Well, that settled that, Dean thought. There was a story attached to these rings and he wanted to know what it was, but as usual, wrong time, wrong place. “No, I’m thinking we might look more legit as a married couple. You’ll need a wedding ring.”
Kelsie eyed him thoughtfully. “You think it’ll be easier to explain away the bruises on your face and my wrists if we pose as a married couple?” Then, before he had a chance to respond to her sarcasm, her eyes shifted back to the wedding ring and she shook her head, “Not that ring.”
“It’s not worth much, no point in pawning it.”
“I am not wearing that ring,” she repeated, a stubborn jut to her chin. “I will never put that ring on. I will never put either of those rings on, ever again. I don’t even want them near me.” She shuddered as she looked away from him, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
Dean searched her face looking for answers. He wasn’t going to press her on this. It wasn’t that important. He dropped the engagement ring back into his other hand and closed his fist around both the rings. “Maybe I can trade it for another wedding band.”
“Maybe we should both have wedding bands,” she said turning back to him. “Why am I the only one who has to wear the wedding band?”
“I guess…” he started. “Well, because…” and then, “What the fuck is going on with you?”
Kelsie said to him, “You are about to pawn a very expensive ring. My very expensive ring. I should at least get a say in what we get for it.”
Dean gazed at her speculatively as he reached over and pulled the keys from the ignition. “Let’s go.”
Dean held Kelsie’s upper arm tightly as they made their way into the pawn shop. Kelsie looked around with curiosity. It was apparent she had never been inside a pawn shop before in her life as her eyes roamed over the eclectic array of items on the shelves. She started moving toward a display of high end electronics, but Dean pulled her up short. “We’re not here to window shop. Don’t draw attention to yourself.”
“That’s ironic,” Kelsie murmured looking up into Dean’s beaten and bruised face.
“Shut up,” Dean tightened his grip on her arm as they stepped up to the counter.
“How can I help you?” A young Chinese man asked from behind the glass counter, a large spider tattoo on his neck noticeable among his many other tattoos. Scorpions, Dean thought grimly, realizing this was a Chinese gang-run pawnshop. But no backing down now. And maybe he could this to h
is advantage. Nothing like stirring a little gang-war pot.
Dean dropped both rings on the countertop and said bluntly, “I want five grand for the lot. Cash. Nothing on the books.”
The tatted man raised his eyebrows slightly and grinned as he picked up the engagement ring. “Nice,” he said as he peered at it. “If it’s real.”
“It’s real,” Kelsie and Dean said in unison.
“I’m Dehui.” The tatted man smiled engagingly as he pulled out a loupe from the cash register and peered through it at the ring. “And you’re fucking right, this is real. 1½ carats. Nice.”
He looked at Dean. “You give it to her?”
“God no,” Dean protested. “It’s a piece of pretentious shit. A fucking Russian gave it to her.”
Dehui frowned and narrowed his eyes. He looked at Kelsie. “You a Russian’s whore?” Kelsie’s face grew red in embarrassment and anger, but as she opened her mouth to respond, Dean tightened his grip on her arm.
“No,” he said flatly. He could feel his own anger rise but he swallowed it down. “She’s mine... she’s mine now. You get my meaning?” And he stared hard at Dehui forcing him to drop his eyes.
“Sorry, man,” Dehui said. “I meant no disrespect.”
Relief washed over Dean as the pawnbroker capitulated. “None taken.” He didn’t want to have to break this asshole’s neck, especially not in front of Kelsie.
Dehui looked at the rings. “I give you 4 for them both – cash.” He offered.
Dean thought it over. $4K wasn’t bad. He was about to say so when Kelsie piped up. “4K and these two wedding rings.” She was pointing at a matching pair of gold bands in the glass case. Plain and unassuming, but they would be bright and shiny and noticeable on anyone’s finger.
She could see the hesitation in Dehui’s eyes, so she said. “If that engagement ring is worth 4k to you, then these rings are worth $50 bucks. Throw them in and you have a deal.”
“Fuck lady,” Dehui smiled broadly. “You’re a good bargainer. You should come work for me. Okay. 4k and these two rings. You guys going to go get married now?”
“Going to Vegas,” Dean lied. “As soon as this deal’s done.”
Dehui pulled the bands out and handed them over to Kelsie, who closed her fist over them. Then he went through a door just to the back of the front counter and a few minutes later returned with a handful of cash. He counted it out as Dean watched. 4K in twenties, fifties and hundreds. None of the bills consecutive. A good deal done by a good man; too bad he was so deep in the gang world. Kelsie turned to leave as Dean scooped up the bills and pocketed them.
“Just wait.” He stopped Kelsie with a hand to her waist. He said to Dehui. “You see my fucking face? You see it?”
Dehui nodded. “Yeah, man, I see it. Someone did you a number.”
“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “Fucking Russians. They did this.”
“You’re kidding man! How’d you get away from those fuckers?”
Dean tossed him an scornful grin. “How the fuck do you think? But there’s more where they came from. Give me that.” He pointed at a pen behind the counter.
Dehui passed it to him. Dean said, “You trust me man?”
Dehui jutted out his lower lip thoughtfully and then he nodded his head. “Sure man. Why not?”
Dean took the pen and pulled Dehui’s arm towards him. “Another tat.” He grinned viciously as he wrote the address of the Russian’s house on his arm. “They might still be there, or they might not. They’re fucking arrogant assholes, so they probably think they’re still safe. I’d take a few of your friends and pay them a visit. They don’t belong here. Fucking Russians.”
Dehui pulled his arm back and looked at the address. “Fuck man, you’re okay for a white dude.”
Dean smiled. “You know it brother. Catch you later.” He balled his fist and stuck his two fingers out in a salute. Then he turned and gripped Kelsie by the upper arm and pulled her out of the shop.
They got into the SUV, this time Dean in the driver’s seat. He started the car and pulled out of the parking spot weaving back into traffic almost as elegantly as Kelsie, but not quite.
“Impressive,” Kelsie said as she slipped on the smaller of the two wedding bands. She held her hand out in front of her and admired it from several angles. “You seem really at home in the gang world.”
Dean grunted. “It’s been my home off and on for several years. We don’t want the gang wars, but at the same time, right now, I won’t be sorry if those Chinese cunts do a number on the Russians. They fucking deserve what they get.”
He saw Kelsie flinch at his crudeness and aggression. It was easy to forget that he was an undercover operative, and with that, came a lot of baggage. He’d spent the last few months pretending to be someone he wasn’t; someone close to him had betrayed him, he almost died at the hands of the Russians. He glanced over at Kelsie who was quietly admiring her bright shiny fake wedding ring and thought maybe he wasn’t the only one with baggage.
They pulled up to a small seedy motel on the outskirts of Richmond. “Why?” Kelsie asked Dean as she looked at the exterior of the motel in dismay, “does everyone on the run stay in seedy, rat-infested motels?”
“Because, princess, there are usually vacancies, they let you pay cash and don’t ask a lot of questions. There’s only one floor and the front door of the room faces the outside, so you can see the bad guys coming if you’re lucky and it’s easier to get out of them if you’re in a hurry.”
Kelsie tried to hand Dean his wedding ring, but he shook his head at Kelsie. “I’m not wearing that fucking thing.”
“Put it on,” Kelsie insisted tersely. “So they don’t think I’m a Russian’s whore.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Dean muttered under his breath as he reluctantly took the ring and shoved it on his ring finger. Then he said, “When we go in there, keep your mouth shut unless I ask you for something. We’ll use Scott as the last name; if they insist on ID, you can show them yours.”
“I don’t have my ID,” Kelsie snapped at him, her temper rising at his bullish behaviour. “If you recall, you stole it along with my credit cards and my cash.”
Dean glared at her. He was tired, in pain, and his patience was ebbing. In that moment, he wanted to bite her head off. He wanted to remind her that he could crush her if he felt like it and he wanted to make her fearful of him again, see her cry. But he didn’t. He swallowed his temper and took a deep breath, telling himself that he didn’t really know this woman that well and she sure as hell didn’t know him at all. They were seeing each other at their worst given the circumstances. And fuck if he didn’t feel the blood rush to his cock as she looked at him with her mouth pursed, her jaw set.
He reached into his back pocket and handed over her driver’s licence and credit card. “Put them in your wallet, and only take them out if I tell you to.”
He could hear the edge in his voice and feel the strain on his face, tension in his shoulders. She reached over and plucked the cards from his hands and did as he asked without speaking. This was her test – walking into that lobby with him. This was the moment that was going to make or break this for them both. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked suddenly. “Because if you’re not, I’ll just let you out here and drive away.”
“How far do you think you’d get?” Kelsie asked, her voice softening.
Dean shrugged. “I guess that depends on you, doesn’t it?”
Chapter Eleven
Kelsie gazed thoughtfully at Dean. They’d been through a lot already. She felt affection toward him – call it what you want, maybe Stockholm syndrome, maybe a psychotic episode. Who knew? She knew she wasn’t safe – too much had happened, the Russians would associate her with him. He was her lifeline now, bullish and raw as he was. “I’ll go in there with you and do as you want. I promise,” she said. She got out of the vehicle and waited while Dean locked the car. He walked over to her and took her hand in his. Kelsie felt a
little thrill as she felt his large masculine hand encase her smaller hand, like they were lovers or fake husband and wife.
There was no one in the lobby and no one behind the counter when they walked in. Dean had to hit the bell twice before a young woman walked out of a back room and up to the counter. Bianca, according to her name tag, was about 20 years old, had jet black wild long hair, pale skin, and rings in her eyebrows, nose, lips and ears.
“Hi,” she said, all business. “How can I help you?”
“Room please, ground floor,” Dean grunted. “Three nights.”
“No problem. Name?”
“Last name’s Scott.”
She tapped on her keyboard. “Parking a car?”
“Yes,” Dean said.
“Make and plate number please.”
Kelsie got ready to respond, but Dean waved her off. “Can’t remember. I’ll have to let you know later.”
Bianca peered at him for a moment and then said, “How will you be paying?”
“Cash,” Dean said.
She looked at him speculatively. “We need a credit card imprint anyway.”
Kelsie knew she was up and started to reach into her purse. But Dean blocked her as he leaned on the counter. “Bianca,” he said, smiling wolfishly at her. “I don’t have a credit card right now. How about we do this.” He laid three bills out on the counter. “$100.00 for each night we’re here, for you, over and above what we’re paying for the room. No more questions about plate numbers or credit cards. What’d you say?”
Bianca looked speculatively at the three bills laying in front of her. It was a week’s worth of wages for her. She reached out and picked them up, folded them in half and stuffed them into her pants pocket.
“It’ll be $389.00 for three nights, in advance please.”
“Thanks,” Dean dropped four more $100 bills on the counter. “Keep the change.” She scooped up the bills as she handed him the room key.
“I’ll give you room 160,” she said slyly. “It’s around the back, last room on the end, no one next door to you. I’ll make sure it stays that way. Out of sight from the lobby. You can park your vehicle on the side. Hidden from sight.” She smiled for the first time during their exchange. “No one will know you’re there.”
