Page 29 of Provocation
‘Sit down,’ Shade says. ‘Let’s eat first.’
I open my eyes to see Shade giving Blake a pointed look that has Blake sitting down immediately and drawing several boxes out of a bag. The delicious smell gets stronger.
‘What is that?’ I ask.
Blake’s eyes practically sparkle. ‘There’s a great taco van a block away. Do you like them?’
‘I don’t know, but my mouth is watering.’
His mouth falls open. ‘Sweetheart, you’ve never had a taco?’
He sounds equal parts horrified and pitying, and I grin. All the things he could feel sorry for me for, and he chooses the fact that I’ve never had a taco?
I shake my head and sit up. He thrusts a box at me, and I open it, letting out a groan. ‘They smell like meat and…lime.’
Blake nods. ‘Try it.’
I watch him pick one up from his box and tilt his head to the side to bite it. I do the same and let out a loud moan as flavor bursts on my tongue. ‘Wow.’
‘I thought you didn’t like things all mixed together,’ Mav says, looking amused.
‘Not withsalads,’ I mutter. ‘But this is ataco. It’s clearly different. Like a sandwich, but better.’
‘Right.’
‘I’m sorry I don’t like your nasty salads,’ I mutter, finishing my taco and peering into my box to see if there are more.
I see another one and almost squeal with delight.
‘The real question,’ Blake begins, side-eying me, ‘is, are they as good as pizza?’
I sit back and consider his question seriously. ‘I’m not sure. They might be on the same level.’
‘High praise for the taco,’ he murmurs before eating half of his in one large bite.
I finish mine, licking my fingers when I’m done and sitting back with a satisfied sigh. I notice the others are done as well.
‘We can talk now,’ I say. ‘I’m feeling much better.’
Shade nods and Mav tucks me into his side on the couch.
‘How did he get you in that storage room?’ Mav asks.
I wince as I look at him. ‘He told me who he was and said he wanted to ask me a few questions.’
‘And you justwent with him?’ Blake asks.
I blink at him.
‘Well,’ I fiddle with a piece of lint on my pant leg. ‘Yes. He’s a policeman.’
I hear Shade mutter something under his breath. ‘Daisy, you never speak to the cops, okay? Not without a lawyer.’
‘But I don’t have a lawyer,’ I say, remembering the interrogation room after Larson was found, the social worker who kept checking his phone and barely spoke, and then went on break for over an hour, leaving me completely at the mercy of the system.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Shade says, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Just don’t go anywhere with him. If he corners you again, say you aren’t speaking to him without one, okay?’
‘Okay,’ I whisper. ‘Sorry.’
