I felt my stomach drop as I whispered, “Sorry?”
“Babe, I’m seein’ you’d put up with a lot and do what you gotta do, anything you gotta do, to keep a roof over your head, your belly full and money in your account.”
I took a step back.
He didn’t just say that to me.
“Did you just say that to me?” I asked.
“How long’s it gonna last?” he asked back. “’Til I find Tia, or confirm she bit it, then you take what you can get and motor?”
He did.
He said that to me.
All of it.
And he thought that about me.
He thought that about me.
I was in love with him. I even told him that. It was in a rant, but he heard me.
And he thought that about me.
I stared at him and didn’t say a word.
I was wrong.
Again, I was wrong.
I had no stinking clue what love was.
Sure, I could see, considering he didn’t do what I thought he did, not only didn’t do the actual act with Nails, he just didn’t do that at all, that he’d be angry I thought he did.
And I could even see he’d be incredibly angry about that. He was entitled. I’d feel the same way if the tables were turned.
I’d messed up.
Huge.
What I could not see was Buck saying I was trying to live in his world to keep a roof over my head and food in my stomach.
I wasn’t doing that.
I was doing it because I was falling in love with him.
I turned to the dresser where my purse was, opened it, pulled out my wallet and cell phone. I walked to the bed, flipping through the bills, keeping only what I needed, which wasn’t much. Then again, I’d never needed much. I threw the rest on the bed and tossed the cell phone he bought me next to it.
“Clara—”
My head snapped around to face him but only for the briefest of moments.
Then I aimed my eyes at my boots, turned and walked his way.
But I only headed in that direction because that was where the door was.
He wrapped his fingers around my upper arm, and I stopped.
“Fuck, Clara—”
Viciously, I yanked from his hold. “Your new office girl can call Mrs. Jimenez if she has any questions about where to find anything. I’ll call her back.”
“Jesus, babe,” he clipped, grabbing hold of me again.
It was then I looked him dead in the eyes.
“We’re done, West. I’m out. And you can hold me where I want to be, but you can’t force me to be where I don’t want to be.”
“Babe—”
“Take your hand off me.”
“Toots—”
“Take your hand off me!” I screamed.
He didn’t take his hand off me. He tried to draw me in front of him.
I didn’t let him.
With a savage twist I tore free.
Then I ran, fast.
I was wearing high-heeled boots, but Buck was barefoot, bare-chested in late October and his boys were drunk, randy and having a good time, thus it was not easy to get their attention.
Therefore, I got away.
Kind of.
See, running down Bell Road in a blind search for a payphone to call a cab, a car stopped beside me.
The door was thrown open, a man got out and hooked me at the waist, pulled me into the car with him and reached across me to slam the door.
Then he ordered the driver, “Go.”
The car shot forward.
In the throes of yet another kidnapping, thus in a panic, I looked at the driver.
It was Tia.
27
He Has No Problem Branching Out
I looked from my place on the couch across the open-plan living room into Detective Rayne Scott’s kitchen, and I stared at Scott and the tall, handsome, dark blond man Tia called Damian.
“Clara, honey, you okay?” Tia asked me, and I turned my attention to her sitting close to me on the couch.
“No,” I whispered, “but I’m glad you are.”
“Honey,” she whispered back.
“I thought you were dead,” I told her quietly.
“I’m sorry. I tried to call, but by the time I could, I called Mrs. Jimenez and her number had been disconnected. I didn’t remember her cell number, and those aren’t listed. Damian sent a man to your apartment, and the man said you and Mrs. Jimenez both were gone. I didn’t know how else to reach you.”
“She moved, and got a new number, but she told me she arranged the service so her new one was announced,” I explained.
“It wasn’t.”
Oh dear.
Perhaps we should have checked.
I stared at my friend. Then I hooked her behind the neck and pulled her forehead to mine and closed my eyes.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said softly, opened my eyes and looked into hers. “You’re here now.”
“Yeah, Clara, I’m here now,” she replied, just as softly.
We stared into each other’s eyes, and I watched her smile. Then I let her go but we both only moved back a bit.
“I’m sorry that here is here,” she said to me.