Page 47 of Defending You
She was too tired to argue anymore. Frankly, she was just tired. She wanted to rest. She wanted to eat a nice meal and go to sleep. Was that too much to ask? Meanwhile, her bodyguard looked and acted like he could go another three days without closing his eyes. The man was strong and competent and had more energy than four Cici’s plus a Brooklynn.
So she trudged behind him silently, praying he knew what he was doing.
He finally slowed down the street from a giant brick house complete with wings and…a sign out front, which told her it wasn’t a house at all. It was a museum.
“Probably not the best place to steal a car.” She tried to add levity to the remark.
“I’m trying to find a waynotto steal a car.”
“That would be better.”
He looked at her, one corner of his mouth tipping up. “I’m afraid you’re not going to think that if I manage this.”
Without explaining his cryptic remark, he dropped his pack in a narrow spot between two giant bushes. “Sit there, please. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” But before she finished the question, he was gone, walking along the sidewalk as if he belonged. She settled on top of his duffel bag, losing sight of him.
As frustrating as she found him sometimes, it was disconcerting being alone. What if those guys tracked her here? She still had the handgun Asher’d given her, tucked away in her bag. She pulled it out, ensured the safety was engaged, and then stuck it in her waistband at the small of her back. It was cold and hard and didn’t make her feel any safer at all.
Worry morphed to fear, and panic was right on its heels by the time Asher returned, his footsteps sounding seconds before he peeked between the bushes. “Come on.”
“To?”
“Just trust me, Cici. We don’t have time to argue about this.”
She hadn’t planned to kick up her heels. She just wanted to know his plan. Apparently, that was too much to ask. She stood, hiking her purse over her shoulder. He grabbed his pack and led the way down the street, then across toward a pickup parallel parked on a side street near the museum. It had New Hampshire plates.
“I’m thinking they’re here to see the museum,” Asher explained, “and then they’ll go home.”
“What if they’re here for the weekend?”
“Then we’ll find another ride. But at least we’ll have lost your thugs.”
They weren’therthugs, but she knew what he meant.
They reached the back of the truck. The bed had a cover to protect what was beneath. After a furtive look around, Asher opened the tailgate.
No luggage inside, but there were tools, lumber, and other construction supplies.
Asher set to work moving them to one side of the bed. When he’d made sufficient space, he motioned her in. “I’ll get something soft for us to rest on, but we need to shut that tailgate.”
This was crazy.
They were going to…to stow away? On that hard metal for who knew how long?
She could already feel the bruises on her hips. But she was the one who’d argued against stealing another car. She couldn’t exactly go back on that now.
She climbed up and crawled past Asher—there was barely enough room for him, much less both of them.
He closed the tailgate, plunging them into darkness and cutting off the only source of fresh air.
The space was hot as a sauna.
“This is crazy.”
“Shh.” His whisper was barely audible. “They could return at any time.”
“Or not at all.”
