Page 61 of Chief's Addiction

“They’re ridiculous,” I corrected, watching as Cueball did what looked suspiciously like a perimeter check around the truck, hand resting on the bulge beneath his cut where I knew he kept his gun. “But I guess it comes with the territory when you work for Mason.”

After what felt like an eternity but was really only a couple of minutes, Lid opened my door. “All clear. Let’s go, but stay close. No wandering off.”

We entered the mall flanked by our bodyguards, who kept glancing around like they were expecting ninjas to drop from the ceiling.

Despite their paranoia, I was glad to be out in the world again. This was the first time Beckett and I had been anywhere besides school or the beach in over a week.

“Where to first?”

“Uh, I don’t know.,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

I felt my lips turn down.

He was overwhelmed by all of the options.

“How about we start with the basics?” I suggested, pointing to a popular department store. “Jeans, t-shirts, that sort of thing. Then we can work our way up to the fancy stuff.”

Looking relieved, he nodded. “That sounds good.”

The men’s section was on the second floor, and as we rode the escalator up, I caught Lid scanning the crowd again.

“Relax,” I muttered to him as we stepped off. “You’re making people nervous.” I motioned to the rent-a-cop watching us.

Lid shrugged his shoulders like he couldn’t care less that he was drawing attention. Well, I was.

“Seriously, Lid. The only threat here is the overpriced jeans.”

He didn’t even crack a smile. “Chief’s orders,” was all he said.

Whatever.

For the next half hour, Beckett and I moved through the racks, assembling a decent pile of clothes. He was resistant at first to letting me grab so much, his eyes bugging out when I added another pair of jeans to the pile.

“That’s too much,” he protested, reaching to put one back.

I caught his hand. “Mason gave us his card and told me to get what you need,” I assured him. “Besides, you’re basically starting from scratch. Every guy needs at least three good pairs of jeans, trust me.”

By the time we reached the fitting rooms, Beckett had an armful of jeans, shorts, shirts, and even a couple of hoodies to try on.

“You got a lot of stuff there.” The attendant smiled as she handed him a plastic number tag and directed him to an empty stall.

“I’ll just be out here,” I told him, settling into one of the uncomfortable chairs that was angled towards the fitting rooms. “Show me each outfit, okay?”

He nodded before disappearing behind the door, resigned to trying it all on.

Lid and Cueball took up positions on either side of the fitting room entrance, trying to look casual and failing miserably. Several shoppers gave them wary glances as they passed by, mothers pulling their children closer.

After Beckett had modeled a couple of outfits, both of which looked great on him, I decided we needed to complete the look.

“Hey,” I called Lid, who was closest. “Can you guys go find some socks and maybe a couple pairs of shoes? Size twelve. Athletic shoes. Maybe some Nike’s or some Jordans?”

Lid frowned, glancing around uncertainly, his hand unconsciously moving closer to his weapon. “Chief said not to leave your side.”

“We’re in a fitting room. In a department store,” I slowly pointed out, gesturing to the enclosed space. “There’s literally one way in and out, and you can see it from the shoe department. It’s right over there.” I pointed to the section barely twenty feet away. “I promise not to get murdered in the next five minutes.”

He exchanged a look with Cueball.

“We’ll get out of here faster.” I dangled the fact in front of them.

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