“Thank you for picking me up.” I didn’t want to go back to the hostel. The place was depressing. I thought about calling Peyton, but I wasn’t ready to involve her, and she couldn’t help, not in the way I needed. The only thing she could do was console me. I didn’t need any more pity. I’d been giving myself a good dose of it since I ran from Kelton. What would get me out of my funk was tough love, strength, and someone who had enough connections and muscle to help me. Kelton had both, but I couldn’t bring myself to open up to him. I didn’t know for sure if he was living with Zach, although him at Zach’s place was a clear indication that they were at least friends.
“Is anyone here with you?” I scooped two sugars into my tea. I suspected the house was empty since if Allie and Bee were there they would have been bopping around, using me as a guinea pig for hair, nails, and makeup, which I didn’t mind. I rather enjoyed all the attention. And Josh and Rafe, Dillon’s sidekicks, would be lurking in the shadows.
“Just you and me. Everyone is working.” He cracked his knuckles.
“And you don’t work?” Maybe he made all his money selling guns.
He brought his fingers up to his lips. “Tell me what’s going on. Is it Maxwell?”
“Not really.” In part Kelton had something to do with why I was a walking disaster. “Are you still open to helping me?”
“I told you I would.” He propped his elbows on the table. When he did, part of his Chinese symbol tat peeked out of from under the sleeve of his black T-shirt.
He followed my gaze to his arm then said, “It means hope.” He lifted his sleeve, exposing the tat and the name Grace.
“Who’s Grace?” I asked.
He closed his eyes briefly. “My sister.” He pulled his sleeve down. “She disappeared when she was sixteen. I’ve been searching for her for the past two years.”
“Did she run away?” I blew on the tea, a little freaked out that we both had sisters named Grace. I’d assumed the name would be of a former love interest.
“Supposedly. At least that’s what my old man said.” He tucked his hair behind his ear, his fingers dragging down the side of his neck. “I’d been working on a merchant ship and was gone months at a time. One day, when I got back, she was gone. She packed her things and took off. I imagine she was tired of his drinking.” His jaw tightened.
I took a sip of tea. “And your mom?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Ran off with a loser when my sister was five. Cops have Grace’s picture, but they don’t exactly put all their efforts into searching for runaways.”
“So you sweep the streets looking for her. Is that how you found Bee and Allie?”
“Something like that. It makes my blood boil to see young girls homeless or prostituting themselves. If I could help all of them I would.”
To lose someone to the streets knowing she could be alive but couldn’t be found had to be painful and frustrating. At least the chance existed that his sister was still out there. My heart hurt for him, and at the same time, I had a newfound respect for Dillon.
I deposited my mug on the table. “My sister’s name was Grace too. Although we called her Gracie.”
The doorbell rang.
“Hold that thought.” Dillon’s boots scuffed along the tiled floor then resonated in the hallway.
Tick tock. Tick tock. The sound from the clock above the stove was soothing.
Kelton’s voice drifted in, and my nerves sparked to life. I couldn’t get away from him. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Actually, I’d thought he would’ve chased me down the street when I ran from the townhome. I was relieved he hadn’t. I wanted to—no, needed to—get my thoughts together before I asked why his mom wanted to see Gracie. I wasn’t sure I was ready to confront the Maxwells. Part of me was still angry with Mr. Maxwell for not teaching Karen gun safety. Another part of me was afraid if I saw the family together I’d break down so hard I couldn’t crawl back to life. Too many memories. Ones I didn’t want to relive.
“I don’t want any trouble. I’m here to talk to you,” Kelton said. “And to return this.”
The door clicked shut.
I threw my head back, holding in a frustrated groan.
Heavy footsteps padded closer before Kelton paraded into the kitchen. Gone was the stuffy business suit. In its place was a sexier Kelton wearing a baseball hat turned backward, a BU sweatshirt that clung to his upper body, ripped jeans that hung low enough on his hips to expose yellow boxer briefs, and untied army boots. My body temperature shot up the charts.
“You’re like a cockroach that can’t be killed,” I said.
“A lovable cockroach. That bites.” He went over to the small butcher-block island and leaned against it, crossing his legs at the ankles.
I snorted. A bite that would take me under his spell.
Dillon stalked over and handed me the Taser. “Keep this.” Then he went to the refrigerator. “Drink?” he asked Kelton.
“No thanks.” Kelton kept his gaze riveted on me. “Good to see you lost the wig.”
Good to see he was still persistent as ever. I almost stuck out my tongue then thought better of it since my childish act would only fuel his fire. Which would spread, burning everyone in its wake. Dillon didn’t need that. Instead, I placed the Taser in my backpack.
Dillon returned to his seat with a bottle of orange VitaminWater. “Are you okay with him here?” He stabbed his thumb at Kelton.
I was beginning to really like Dillon. He respected me and my privacy.