Dangerously Big (9 page)

“Romeo and Slade won’t want you to leave,” he says. As he speaks, his eyes stare into mine. The morning light, shining through the window, makes it easy to see the gold flecks in his blue irises.

“They’ll be fine,” I say.

“You do good work.” His jaw clenches. “You’re…”

“Hawthorne Tarraget, are you saying that
you
don’t want me to leave?” I ask. I’m only teasing him, but then his gaze cuts away, then back. The wounded expression on his face practically drives the breath from my chest.

“That’s also correct,” he says. He clears his throat. “I don’t want you to go.” It seems like he could say more, but apparently he’s done because he hands me the key.
 

I curl my fingers around it, my ticket to safety. “You don’t want me to leave because I do good work?” I ask.

“And because my friends are very fond of you.” He smiles. “You’re growing on me, too.”

“Like a fungus?”

“We’d have to consult a mycologist.” His smile fades. “I wish you’d let us help you. You don’t have to tell everyone your business, but you should tell someone.”

“I’ve got Bandit,” I say.

“Tell someone who can help.”

“If I thought someone could help me, I would. To be honest…” I trail off as I reconsider what I was about to say.

“To be honest?” he prods.

I purse my lips, then exhale, puffing out my cheeks. “I thought I would be safe here. But it’s not safe anymore.” How can I possibly explain who and what my grandfather really is?
 

“So rather than allow someone to help you, you’re going to take off.”

“As I said last night.”
 

“Would you consider talking to Romeo before you go? He’s trustworthy, and in any event, he deserves to know what’s happening. He’s had a rough year, Lindsay. Don’t just disappear on him. Slade is resilient, and I’m an asshole—”

“Jesus. Can I get that in writing?”

“If you stay, I’ll have it inscribed on a plaque that you can hang in your living room.” His eyes penetrate mine. “Consider talking to Romeo.”

My stomach twists, and I nod. “I will.”

“That wasn’t convincing. You used to be a better liar.” Hawthorne extends his hand. “It’s been nice knowing you, Lindsay. I hope you find both what you want and what you need.”

The handshake is weirdly formal considering how many ways this man has fucked me, but Hawthorne and I aren’t the type to hug our goodbyes.
 

It’s a shame, because I could really use a hug right now.

He turns to leave, but I lightly touch his sleeve. “Wait. I have a question for you. If you weren’t planning to blackmail me, why did you lie to Romeo and Slade?”

“Several reasons. For one, I figured I’d try a different tactic with you instead of starting another fight.”

I blink. “Thank you,” I say, and I mean it. “So you know, I wasn’t trying to steal money from your uncle.”

He glances at the clock on the wall. “I’m late for a meeting.”

I watch him go, and I try to burn the memory of his scent into my brain. Despite the fact that he’s always been such a pain in the ass, I’ll miss him.

~ ~ ~

I’m feeling unsettled as I make my way toward Romeo’s office. Tamara, his assistant, is at her station.

“Is he…” Unable to trust my voice, I point at the closed door.

“In the big conference room,” Tamara says. “Are you ok?”

I nod.
 

“It’s awful what happened to you the other night,” she says. “You’re brave for even coming in today.”

The big conference room is the one on the corner with two glass sides, and as I near, I see Romeo inside.
 

His brow is furrowed in concentration, and he looks upset about something in the pile of documents spread out in front of him. The other people in the meeting don’t seem as concerned, and I wonder why he can’t seem to relax.

I watch as he flips a few papers over, then he asks for something. Sharon slides a paper down to him, and he skims it, then reads something aloud.

I can’t help but smile as I watch him. This is how I want to remember Romeo. Competent. Surrounded by people who respect him.

Also, not yelling at me for leaving.

Technically I kept my promise to Hawthorne. I considered talking to Romeo. Maybe, if he weren’t busy… But he is.

And I have an apartment to fit into a suitcase, a safe deposit box to empty, unexplored highway to travel to my next adventure, whatever it may be.
 

I start to turn, then take one last look at Romeo.
 

The woman who gets that man… I hate her, whoever she is, but I’m grateful if she can make him happy. He deserves that.

Chapter 12

My car is in the garage, as promised. I slide behind the wheel and start the engine.

The gas tank is full. Hawthorne must have topped it off. Kidnapper Joe wouldn’t have bothered if he planned to dump the car.

My first stop is the apartment. I flirt with the security guard, tell him I’m worried that my ex is hiding in my closet. In the end, it’s not difficult to convince him to come up with me.

My apartment is empty, and I see no proof that Kidnapper Joe or anyone else was inside.

Bandit follows me around, his quiet meows like plaintive entreaties, telling me to stay, that I haven’t exhausted all my options yet.

He would say that. He’s a cat, and he likes his routine, likes the windows and the warm sun. I liked my routine, too, my job, my secret dalliances with the bosses.
 

“Nothing lasts forever,” I tell him. He sits and stares reproachfully at me.

I don’t have suitcases; they were abandoned when I fled the last place. So I fill up a few trash bags with my stuff.

It has to be said that expensive clothing in trash bags still looks expensive. It just feels sacrilegious.

My stilettos immediately want to punch holes through the plastic, but I do my best.

Even with the new stuff for Bandit, everything I own fits easily into my trunk.

I make two trips down, then come back up to put Bandit in his carrier. Before I zip the top closed, I stroke his soft fur.

He looks up at me and meows.

“Hey, I warned you that life with me would suck,” I tell him. Carefully, I close the top and slide the carrier’s strap over my shoulder.

~ ~ ~

Twenty minutes at the bank, and I’ve cleaned out my safe deposit box.

That’s it. I’m done. I’ve got everything I need in my car. I’ve got a full tank of gas.

All I have to do is pick a direction and start driving.

As I wind through the familiar roads en route to the highway, I try not to think about the fact that I didn’t get to see Slade one last time.

Maybe it’s just as well. What the four of us were doing… It was surely destined for disaster, for heartbreak.

I get onto the highway, and as the road spools behind me, I admit that I had a narrow escape.
 

The truth is that I
was
falling for them. For Slade, yeah. That was obvious even to me. And for Romeo. How could I not?

Even Hawthorne was growing on me. Under different circumstances, if we hadn’t gotten off to such an awful start…

My phone rings, and I look over to see the vibrating photo of a cactus wearing a sombrero.
 

I’m reaching for it even before I know what I’m doing, but I stop just shy of answering.
 

Clean break. That’s the only way.

A moment later, a text buzzes. The road is empty this time of day, and I glance at Hawthorne’s message.
In the glove box and under the seat. You won’t accept the help you need, so there’s the help you want.

One hand steady on the wheel, I lean over and pop open the glove box.

Inside is a plastic bag, tightly wrapped around something rectangular. I strongly suspect that I know what it is, and when I tug it out, my guess is confirmed.

Money.
 

Crisp hundred dollar bills, each compact packet belted with a label that says $10,000.

I lean forward and probe under my seat, and my fingers touch more plastic.
 

At the first rest stop, I pull off. There’s a secluded area near the edge of the lot, and I park there, angled so that I can make a quick getaway if I need to.

My hands shaking, I start to count the stacks.
 

It’s a lot of money.
 

Enough to make myself a new life somewhere.

I stuff them into my oversized shoulder bag, then get out of the car. Kneeling on the ground, I sweep my arm under the seat to make sure I have it all. Then I check the other side of the car. Thirty stacks total. $300,000.

That can’t be a coincidence.

I honestly don’t know what to think.
 

Obviously I should thank Hawthorne, but I’m afraid to call. He might already know that I didn’t talk to Romeo, and I don’t want a lecture.

So I send a text back.
Thank you. I’ll repay every cent
.

He doesn’t reply, and to my shame, I’m relieved.

~ ~ ~

That night I take a room in a mid-budget hotel that advertises itself as dog friendly. Nothing about cats, so I sneak Bandit in. He seems to understand how important it is to stay quiet.

I’m still wearing the same clothes from the day before, so I shower and change into Romeo’s T-shirt. It doesn’t smell like him, or like much of anything, but wearing it soothes my soul.

I lie on top of the covers and look through my email on my phone.

No one has contacted me since Hawthorne’s text in the morning.

Maybe I’m over-thinking things, but I find it weird that they haven’t tried to reach me. Even if Romeo is mad, which I can very well imagine, Slade should have said…
something
.

I try to see it from their perspective. Who am I except a sexually open-minded woman who came into their lives, caused some trouble, and then disappeared?

But still.

Bandit jumps on the bed, and I’m amazed at how lightly he lands. He picks his way over to me, then settles in close.
 

“You don’t think I’m a horrible person, do you?” I ask.

Of course he doesn’t. It’s his job to love me and to shed hair everywhere.

It occurs to me that for all his general awfulness, Hawthorne really did help out when I needed it.

All the more reason not to get him, or any of them, involved in my mess.

So I’m glad no one has called. Right?

I sit up and pull out the map I bought at a gas station. I’ve been going south, but I find myself tracing a route to the northeast.

What if Hawthorne is right? What if it’s time to try something besides running?

“What do you think, Bandit?” I ask.
 

He’s too busy purring to reply.

In the end, it’s a decision only I can make, but I think it’s time to go home. Time to see my sister, even if only to say goodbye.

~ ~ ~

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