And I’m pulling the door open when she knocks the second time.
In a bright yellow sun dress, she looks like some kind of summer fairy. And even more beautiful in person.
“Can I borrow your car?” Cassandra leans forward a little as she asks, like the question tumbled out of her unexpectedly.
I blink at her.
Borrow my truck?
I think of my truck. The fake registry in the glove box. The hidden compartment under the rear bench seat. The dozens of weapons and explosives hidden in the bed.
“No.” My voice is stronger than it was yesterday, the injury already healing.
“Um.” She blinks back at me. “Please?”
“What’s wrong with yours?” I counter.
“Won’t start.” She lifts a shoulder. “I tried ordering a ride from the different apps, but no one is out this way.” She grimaces. “And if I don’t leave in the next few minutes, I’ll be late.”
The town we live in isn’t tiny, but it’s small enough and just far away enough from the bigger suburbs that the different taxi services rarely run here, and there is no public transportation.
Which is good, because if I witnessed her getting into the back of a stranger’s car, I’d have my sniper rifle out and aimed at the back of the driver’s head before you could say psychotic.
She shifts her weight in her little white tennis shoes.
I take her in again. Casual shoes, pretty dress that stops a couple of inches above her knees, big leather purse slung over her shoulder, hair pulled up into a curly ponytail, glossy lips…
“I’ll drive you.”
Her face brightens. “You will?”
I nod. Because apparently, I will.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She hops twice, and I want to shove my face in her tits.
But I don’t. I just nod my acceptance of her thanks, then gesture for her to back up. “Let’s go.”
“Do you, I don’t know, need to get anything?” Cassandra glances down, then notices that I’m already wearing my shoes. Or tactical boots, to be more exact.
I glance down at myself too.
My black pants bunch a bit at the tops of the boots, and that, combined with my black nylon belt and black T-shirt, makes me look like a fucking mercenary.
Practice prevents me from fidgeting. And getting changed now would only draw attention to what I’m currently wearing and questions about why I put it on if I wasn’t willing to leave the house dressed like this.
I don’t have a mission tonight. No plans to utilize all the pockets hidden in my pants. But I like to be prepared. And anytime I’m sitting in my room downstairs, watching my monitors and sharpening my knives, I make sure I’m ready to go, should the need arise.
“I’m good,” I reply and pull my keys from my pocket.
Cassandra spins around and walks ahead of me to the front of my garage.
I click a button on my key fob to open the overhead door, and we wait for it to rumble open before going to our respective doors.
It’s not until we’re climbing into my truck that I think to ask, “Where am I taking you?”
Cassandra pulls her door shut and answers while reaching for her seat belt. “Dinner at my parents’ place.”
CHAPTER 29
Cassie
Hans slowly turns his head to face me as the truck rolls down his driveway.
I bite my lip, refusing to look at him, worried that if I do, he’ll throw the truck into park and demand I get out.
Not that he requires eye contact to kick me out.
“Your parents?” His voice, though much better than it was yesterday, is still a little scratchy, making him sound more serious than his already serious tone.
“Yes,” I kinda squeak. “But you can totally just drop me off. They’re in St. Paul, and I know that’s a bit of a drive, but I’ll pay you for the hassle, and I’m sure I can find a ride that will bring me back this way.”
It’s Sunday evening, so there won’t be much traffic, and we’ll get there in like thirty minutes, but I don’t want him to think I can’t pay for his time. I never expected him to offer to drive me.
Then again, I can’t really picture him letting me take his truck alone either, now that I think about it.
Hans lets out a sigh, and I chance a glance at him just as he turns out of the driveway and presses down on the gas. “You’re not going to pay me.”
He doesn’t sound excited, but I still relax. If he was going to kick me out, he’d have done it already.
It’s not like my parents would be mad if I had to cancel on them, but they would worry. And that worry would turn into phone calls and questions and suggestions that I just don’t feel like listening to.
“I am going to pay you,” I insist, then keep talking before he can argue. “Would you like me to tell you directions as we go or put their address into your GPS?”
CHAPTER 30
Hans
“Just tell me,” I clip out before she can reach for the screen on my dashboard.
I don’t actually need her to tell me where to go; I know exactly where her parents live. But if she starts to type the address into my truck GPS, she might see that particular location already labeled as CP. And she’s a clever enough girl that she might realize it stands for Cassandra’s parents. I sort of doubt that’s something she’d be cool with.
Changing the topic from addresses, I add, “You can let me keep the book as payment.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her crossing her arms. “If I say no?”
I slide her a look. “I’ll keep it anyway.”
“Hans.”
“Cassandra,” I mimic her stern tone back like I’m in fucking middle school.
I glance at her again, and she narrows her eyes. “Why do you call me that?”
“It’s your name.” I play dumb.
“Yeah, but it’s my full name. Everyone calls me Cassie.”
“Well, then you shouldn’t have introduced yourself as Cassandra,” I lie.
Her face does that cute scrunching thing she does when she’s thinking. “I did?”
I force my focus back on the road.
“You did,” I lie again.
“But I never…” She trails off.
“Maybe if you figured out your own name, then your mail would be addressed correctly, and that sex book would’ve been delivered to the right house.”
“Sex book?” Cassandra sputters a laugh. “They are tasteful boudoir photos.”
“They’re a taste of something,” I grumble.
“What was that?” She turns toward me as she asks, causing the skirt of her dress to ride up her thighs.
“What part of St. Paul are we going to?” I try to distract us both.
“It’s by the science museum. You ever been?”
I shake my head, trying to imagine a scenario where I take myself to a museum for… Well, for any reason.
And just like that, the little voice I tried to lock in my basement reminds me just how different we are. How different our lives are.