Page 24 of Demitri

“Where are you going?” I ask, looking between her and my truck.

“I’m driving. You’re in hiding, remember? People aren’t supposed to see you with me or I’ll be in danger?” She smiles sweetly and rapidly blinks her eyes.

“Smartass. Fine. You drive.”

I match her sweet smile with my own, and she scowls. I know she’s trying to make everything uncomfortable so I’ll give up and stay home. But as stubborn as she is, I can match it.

She grumbles while getting in her car, and I let my smile spread before sobering up and getting in beside her. Can’t let her know how much I’m actually enjoying this. When she gets feisty, I get turned on. And it has nothing to do with sex. The woman has no idea how she makes my life light up when she’s being the real her. And the best part? I don’t even think she realizes how much her mask has slipped with me over the years. The Mia I met four years ago never would have let me see her angry. Or worried. She would lash out proactively, protecting herself first and foremost. Remember those drips and scraps? This is me living it up with them.

“Do you need anything before you’re shut in for the night?” Mia asks when we get to her office.

“You going to lock the door?” I joke, but the look on her face tells me she’s thinking about it. “Mia. Don’t even.”

She gives me an evil grin and shrugs. “It would have kept you where I want you.”

“Go to work. Make the big bucks. And flirt just enough for the tips, but not so much that I have to watch the men walk away with rods in their pants, okay?”

“We’ll see. I mean, I guess I’ll try. But momma’s got bills to pay.”

She turns and flounces to the door. Fucking flounces, her ass swaying just so. This woman. Just as she walks through the door, she turns back, her face suddenly serious. Doubt—and is that fear?—etched on her face. “My friends are coming in tonight. It’s our weekly meeting. I would really appreciate it if you tried not to listen to our conversation. What we talk about? It’s private. For all of us.”

“Mia, I’ll never purposely pry into your secrets. You have my word.”

She stares at me, chewing on her bottom lip, before nodding and walking away, pulling the door shut behind her. I stare at the closed door, trying to read her thoughts through it. I know the friends she’s talking about. A group of women who call themselves‘Brett’s Girls’that came together over their history of trauma with the man. I hate that name. Survivors. That should be their name.

Not going to lie, the urge to call Aunt Linda and ask her for the history on all of them is there, but much like I don’t want anyone looking into my past and asking questions, I won’t do that to these women. I know enough to know the basics, and that’s already enough to make me want to throw up.

I look around the office, trying to take my mind off of Mia’s past, noticing the camera angles on the wall of monitors. One behind the bar facing out to the room, one facing the front door,one for the back door, and one focusing on the area Mia usually holds as hers. There’s also one in the kitchen and the hallway with the bathrooms. She’s got the whole place covered, which makes me feel a little better about things here.

I turn to the desk and pull my laptop from the bag I brought with me. I boot her up and get to work. Even if I can’t be in the garage, it doesn’t mean I can’t do something to stay productive. After a few minutes of quietly working, I pick up my phone and make a call.

“John?” the man answers.

“Hey, Sarge. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, man. You’re the one who called me. What’s going on with you?”

“I won’t be able to make it up there next week. Might need to make arrangements for one of my guys to do the pickup.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Why do you think something’s wrong?”

“Because you don’t just come up here to pick up parts. You come up here to bullshit with me and the other guys. If you can’t do that, something’s happened. What?”

“Sometimes I really hate that you know shit the way you do.”

He laughs, and I have a feeling this isn’t the first time he’s heard this. “Doesn’t change the fact you’re facing something.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not really supposed to talk about it. So, just trying to stay out of sight for a little while.”

“Family?”

I never told Sarge my real name, but the man knows everything. He can get a grown man to spill his guts with just a look. And obviously a phone call.

“Yeah. Can we leave it at that?”

“How bad?”

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