“No. Just this one.” I grab the picture from her fingers. There is nothing but a brick wall behind her. Her smile in the picture has an instant softening effect on me.
“I can’t let people know where I am. So we can’t leave anything behind that might put me in any of these places. Do you understand?” I ask, hoping like hell she does so I won’t have to explain anything further.
“I do. I promise I won’t take anything with you in it or leave any incriminating evidence behind.” Her words are serious, but her smile is playful.
Our room has two beds. I didn’t know if she wanted to sleep with me, so I made sure she had an option. I have my tank bag, my luggage bag, and her backpack in my hands, and I’m frozen in place at the door—watching her. She touches everything in the room, her eyes closed. She is breathing deep as if to memorize the smell of the room. I inhale and all I smell are stale cigarette smoke and that cleaner they use that has the same scent as the towels. When she opens her eyes, she is looking at me and she smiles, revealing her teeth.
“It’s perfect,” she tells me, as if I had asked what she thought of the place. It’s the same thing she said to me at the warehouse. It’s nice to know she’s not hard to impress.
“I have to go out.” Her smile falls some, but I can tell she is trying to hide her disappointment. I would love to be in her head, but if I had to guess what she is thinking, it would be that she will do anything to prevent me from thinking bringing her was a mistake. My heart does that weird fluttering thing where you can feel it skip a beat.
—
“Stay inside. Don’t leave. Don’t answer the door. If the building catches on fire, get your shit and find the nearest bus station to take you back home.” My voice is harsh when I speak to her, but it isn’t to hurt her or scare her. She knows this, because she doesn’t look offended. I remember she has to eat, and I know she won’t tell me if she is hungry. I’ll just bring her something back, but I don’t know how long I’ll be. Fuck.
I drop her bag and stomp out, loading my shit up and speeding off to the nearest burger joint, which is just around the corner. I nearly bite the man at the counter’s head off when he asks me what I want, because I realize I don’t fucking know.
She could be allergic to something or a vegan or some shit. One thing about the club, I knew all that shit about my brothers. But I don’t know anything about Saylor.
Most girls eat salad because they’re on a diet or care about the way they look. Judging by Saylor’s body, she takes care of herself. But she isn’t like most girls in any other aspect, and I wasn’t gonna stereotype her just because she has a good body. So I order her the same thing I order for me—a cheeseburger and fries.
When I walk in, she is just how I left her except her boots are off. She is propped up against the headboard, her ankles crossed, writing in a leather-bound book. A diary? People still did that? Social media seemed like all the diary you would need, but here again, Saylor didn’t seem like the type that would put her thoughts all over the Internet for the world to fucking see. Just seeing her with a diary had me liking her a little more, although I liked her enough just fine.
“Are you allergic to anything?” I snap, then mentally kick myself for being such an asshole.
“Yes,” she says, closing her book and looking up at me. “Bullshit and politics.” She smirks. I’m allergic to the same damn things. Her sarcasm lightens my mood considerably and I take a seat at the small table, waiting for her to join me.
“Something smells good.” She takes the seat across from me and props her legs on the bed. She grabs a burger without complaint and dives right in. Not bothering to check it and make sure it’s dressed the way she wants. She isn’t picky. I like that.
“About earlier, ya know, at the store, I wasn’t praying for myself.” I stop eating, not wanting the sound of chewing to prevent me from hearing whatever she has to say.
“I prayed for you. For your safety and your understanding and your forgiveness.”
I’m confused and the wrinkle in my brow shows it. Forgiveness from him or from her?
“I think you are a very special person. You deserve a life with someone that can give you far more than I can. I hope you will forgive me for not being what you need.” Her eyes are full of sorrow and I wonder why she thinks so low of herself.
I’m already making plans to call Shady and get a list of every man she has ever had a relationship with. I will interrogate each and every one of them until I find the son of a bitch who has made her doubt herself. When I find him, I will rip his limbs off one by one and I will do it in a way that he will stay alive for the whole fucking procedure. I want him to suffer.
Before I let anger completely consume me and fuel my desire to kill, I leave a part of me open so I can provide comfort to her. I grab my bag and pause in front of the door.
“You are all I need.” And I fucking mean it.
5