“A-and what would be the truth?”
“That I can’t stop thinking about you. That I can’t stand the thought of him touching you, of him making you do things for him, for his pleasure. The only hands that should ever be against your body are these,” he says, holding up his hands. “Mine.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Part of me thrills at what he’s implying–that he cares about me. But a bigger part of me shies away, distrustful as always.
“Try not to think about it. That’s what I do.”
His brow furrows again and I know I’ve said too much. I can’t admit to things like that. “Then why do it?” I say nothing, simply hold his puzzled stare. “None of my business, right?”
I see his frustration mount, and he steps back and runs his hands through his messy, dark blond hair. The action draws my eye and my palms tingle with the remembered feel of the silky strands tickling them as his fingers invaded my body.
“I won’t give up,” he states flatly, determined.
“I wish you would.”
“Do you? Do you really? Don’t you want someone to help you? To save you? To rescue you?”
“Some people can’t be saved.”
“But you’re not one of those people. I refuse to believe that.”
“I-I have to go,” I tell him again, moving slowly past him, my arms crossed over my chest. Somehow, although the temperature hasn’t changed, I feel frozen in my nudity. Vulnerable. Miserable.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
I don’t turn to look at him; I only nod as I carefully open the door and slip out into the empty hall.
Stopping just outside the doorway, almost exactly where Sig was standing, I straighten my spine, square my shoulders. I quickly remind myself of the reasons, of the whys and the musts, then I plaster a demure smile on my face and I go back in to face the music. At least for a little while longer.
CHAPTER TWENTY- SIG
I haven’t spoken to anyone since last night when I stormed back through the club and told Barber I was leaving. I gave him no explanation, didn’t feel like I owed him one. And to hell with him if he didn’t like it. He won’t have to tell me how and when to do my job. I’ll keep my eyes on Tommi until I can take down Tonin and set her free. She has been drawn inexplicably into my mission, even if the department has no idea the degree to which she is involved in my plan. Serve and protect–that’s what we do. That’s what I do. And Tommi needs protecting, whether she’ll admit it or not.
After scarfing down a leftover cheeseburger and two pieces of pizza from my practically empty fridge, I brew a pot of coffee, dump as much of it as I can fit into a travel mug and I hit the door. When I arrive at Tommi’s, there are no signs that they’re awake. Or even at home. But her car is still at Tonin’s. Unless she got it last night and has already left. Assuming that’s not the case, though, I suppose that she’s in there, and that she needs me.
A ride, I mean, I clarify to myself.
At eight o’clock, the front door opens and Travis appears. He’s wearing his usual hoodie, pulled up over the low bill of his hat, and he’s walking with the enthusiasm of any other kid who has been ousted from his warm bed to go to school when he’d much rather be sleeping.
A few seconds after he steps onto the tiny front porch, Tommi follows, pausing to reach back and pull the door shut behind her, testing the knob to make sure it’s locked. She looks fresh and beautiful, not like she had a night like she did, and she’s dressed impeccably. Of course. She doesn’t look up as she makes her way down the driveway to where I’m parked at the curb, so I take in her clothes, her body, the way she moves.
She’s wearing light brown pants that hang like some sort of expensive material, the shift of her supple thighs barely visible beneath it. A dark orangey-pink blouse with a plunging neckline is tucked in at the waist, accentuating her curves in a demure, hot-teacher kind of way. I think again of her cut off shorts and tank top, my favorite. I miss them. More than I probably should and for reasons I dare not think about.
“Where are you going after we drop Travis off at school? A political fundraiser?”
She says nothing, still not meeting my eyes as she holds the door for Travis and then climbs up into the passenger seat in silence. Her brother has no such problem answering, though.
“Laaance likes her to dress that way,” he sneers.
“Travis!” she says, a little snappy before she softens her voice and asks, “Did you get your lunch from the kitchen?”
I hear his frustrated sigh as Travis pats his backpack, green zippers clacking.
“I wouldn’t have to aggravate you about it if you’d just leave your bag in the kitchen at night. I’d put your lunch in there in the morning and not have to ask you every day if you got it,” she explains a tad defensively.
Travis says nothing.
“I’m making chicken pot pie tonight. Don’t make plans,” she requests, less of an edge to her tone now. To this he grunts. “Did you hear me?”
Travis nods, continuing to stare morosely out the window. I guess his part in the conversation is officially over.
I wait for a minute before I speak. “I just meant to say that you look beautiful. Stuffy, but beautiful,” I confess quietly, glancing over at Tommi.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, not taking her eyes off the windshield.
It’s my turn to sigh. Doesn’t seem like they’re much for talking this morning, so I crank up the music for the rest of the ride to school, singing along with the songs that I know. Loud as hell, too. A couple of times, I check my rearview and find Travis trying not to grin. Now if I could just get Tommi to come around.
When we drop off Travis, I can’t help noticing the way Tommi stares after him, her heart in her eyes. What’s eating at her? What isn’t she telling me?
A lot, I imagine. I think this woman must be an enigma wrapped up in a bundle of secrets, secrets maybe nobody knows. But I aim to find out. Luckily, I’m good at working puzzles, at figuring them out. I just need a few more pieces. I’ll have to finesse them out, these important facts, but I’ll do it. I can be pretty damn persuasive when I set my mind to it.
She doesn’t say a single word on the way to Tonin’s place. I think we’re both aware of the big elephant sitting in the back seat, though.