“One of the most expensive cities in the country.”
“Her plan seemed to work, though,” I point out. “We came here when I was eleven. I’m twenty-eight. No one found us. Until Gio crawled out of the hole. Sofia approached him, not the other way around. You got that from the Nancy interaction, right?”
“Or maybe Gio went hunting and found her. He lured her to him and then away from you.”
“And that means what?”
“She thinks she’s the lion and he’s the gazelle and it might just be the opposite.”
This assessment brings me hope that Gio is alive and it also has me silently vowing to never, ever be the gazelle again.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Once we’re cozy and warm inside Kace’s fancy car, he glances at the clock. “It’s almost six now. How about I order the food so it can be waiting for us?”
“My stomach approves. I’m actually starving.” My phone buzzes with a text and I pull it from my coat pocket to glance at the screen. “I almost forgot. We need to detour to the pharmacy first. They just sent me a message to tell me my prescription is ready.” I motion to the upcoming street. “Turn right here, please. The Duane Reade pharmacy I go to is a block up.”
“Pharmacy?” he asks, casting me a worried look.
“Yes,” I say primly, trying not to smile. “My doctor approved me starting on the pill.”
“Really?” His eyes light like a kid in a candy store about to indulge.
“Yes. But,” I quickly warn, “I have to be on it for seven days before we’re safe to go without a condom.”
He maneuvers the car onto the street I’d indicated and grimaces. “It’s going to be a long seven days.”
“It’s one week. Only seven days of practice.” I motion to the pharmacy. “Just drop me at the door. I’ll run in and out.”
He cuts to the curb in an emergency lane to let me get out, and I don’t blame him. Parking sucks in New York City. “Are we talking about seven days of me practicing with my violin or you?” he asks.
My lips curve. “Both actually,” I say, reaching for the door.
He catches my arm and pulls me backward, his hand catching my head as he leans over me, his mouth quickly next to my mouth. “Seven days of practice requires you to stay with me all seven days,” he informs me before kissing me soundly on the lips.
I twist around to face him. “Are there cookies in this for me?”
“Every day if you want them. I’ll call Walker and update them on everything while you’re inside.”
“Maybe you should promise them cookies, too?”
He laughs and a car honks. “Have to go,” I say, opening the door and darting out of the vehicle, smiling as I do. Kace makes me smile. He makes me laugh. He makes me happy. And I don’t remember happiness ever being a priority in my life.
I’ve just entered the pharmacy when my cellphone buzzes with a text. I grab it from my purse and eye a message from Nancy. Oh my God, he’s gorgeous and famous. And I need to know everything. I’d call you, but I know you’re with him. Please have pity on me and call me soon.
I smile yet again, with Kace at the core of that smile. She’s right. He is gorgeous and famous, but Kace August is so much more. Damaged. Complicated. Sweet. Demanding. Too many things to discuss right now with Kace waiting for me. And honestly, I’m not sure I’m ready to discuss me and Kace at all. And so, I reply to Nancy with one word: Tomorrow, that at least buys me time before I head toward the pharmacy window.
A few minutes later, I’m talking to the pharmacist about how to dose my medication he’s filled when the hair on the back of my neck bristles. My gaze lifts and cuts right, where I find a tall, broad-shouldered man, staring at me, part of his face hidden by a display. I stare at him. He stares at me. Now the hair on my arms is bristling, too, and my heart is racing.
Reigning in the fight or flight reaction threatening to take control, I warn myself not to overreact.
This could be one of Savage’s men, I reason, but that’s not what my gut tells me. Kace has only just given them a partial go ahead. He is not one of Savage’s men. I know he’s not.
He cuts away from me, out of sight, and my heart leaps. What if that man knows where my brother is? I have to go after him. I mean no, I don’t dare approach him, that’s not safe, but can I, from a safe distance, snap a photo of him or a license plate or something, anything that I can give to Savage to find my brother? I have to try. With my drugs in hand, I excuse myself from the pharmacist, cutting toward the man.