But I know she’s shaken up by the entire experience tonight, whether she’ll admit it or not.
The cops let her collect a few overnight things before sending us out so they can finish their evidence collection. I lean over to grab the handles of her duffel bag in my backseat, taking in the scent of her as I get close. She doesn’t make a move, and I’m not about to try anything on her now. “Whose place did you say this is?” I ask.
She glances toward the house, where a porch light is now on. “My friend Dakota, from Oregon.”
“Okay, well, you’ll be safe here. I’m sure of it.” I know because I watched my mirrors for a tail the entire drive over.
Silence hangs inside my car for a few long breaths. “How’s your side?”
“Don’t even feel it,” I lie. It’s not too bad, but it’s definitely noticeable.
“You’ll need to take the wrap off soon.” She pauses. “If you come inside, I could do that for you.”
I glance at the shadow watching from the window. “You’ve already woken your friend up in the middle of the night. You don’t think she’ll mind you bringing a stranger in with you?”
“Dakota?” She snorts. “She’ll love it. She invites strangers over all the time.”
“That doesn’t sound safe,” I joke. It’d be so easy to say yes, but I have things I need to deal with. “I’ll be fine. But thanks.”
She chews the inside of her mouth, but she doesn’t say anything. She’s probably wondering why I didn’t offer to bring her back to my place for the rest of the night. I considered it, because I’d rather not let her out of my sight after what happened, but I don’t think even someone as open-minded as Ivy can look past the motel with hourly rates and hookers hanging off the streets outside. “Thanks for sticking around and helping me deal with the cops,” she finally says. “And driving me here.”
As far as the police know, Gregory White accompanied Ivy home from the club. Luckily she wasn’t around when I was giving them that information. They’ll run it through, I’m sure, and they’ll find the dummy profile that Bentley had set up—a thirty-one-year-old truck driver—as a precaution. And hopefully, that’s where that’ll end.
“When you want to go and get your car, give me a call and I’ll take you.”
She slips her duffel bag out of my grasp. “That’s not necessary.” The cool, I-don’t-need-help-from-anyone Ivy is slipping back.
“Yeah, it is. You heard the cops. These people ransacked your place. Given your uncle was killed two weeks ago, it’s suspicious. I don’t want you going to that shop again without me, either.”
Rare amusement dancing in her eyes. “Is this you going all badass bodyguard on me?”
I smirk. “Something like that.”
“Well, don’t think I’m gonna pay you. I have no money for protection.”
“I seem to remember handing you fourteen hundred bucks today.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She gives me a sly smile, but then all amusement fades from her face. “Do you always carry a gun, even when you’re not working?”
I figured that would come up, eventually. “Yeah.” I hesitate but ask, “Does it bother you?”
She shakes her head and then dismisses the topic entirely. “Well, I’m going to the shop at nine in the morning to let the painters in. That’s”—she glances at the clock—“only five hours away.” She looks from the house back to me. I can’t tell if she’s just pointing out the obvious or fishing for me to stay. I don’t even think it’s about getting laid anymore. By the way she seemed to gravitate to my side for the past few hours, dealing with the cops, I think she just feels safer having me around. And that is why I’d love to say yes to her right now.
Pulling out my burner phone—idiot move but it’s the only phone I have on me—I demand, “Give me your number.”