Dirty Law

“I don’t trust you,” I stated, biting out each word. “So don’t think you can get one over on me.” Law undid his seatbelt and leaned forward. I pressed my back against the window, refusing to give up an inch of my space. He smelled good again, like that rich, spicy scent mixed with campfire.

“Nami listen to me.” Even though I was trying not to look at him, Law’s voice held a low, rich quality like melted chocolate and alcohol. If I wasn’t careful, it would get me drunk. I pressed myself farther against the window, hoping the bitter cold seeping through would keep me sane.

“It’s hard to listen when you’re threatening me,” I snarled. “When you’re violating my personal space and dragging me off to places I did not consent to go.”

Abruptly Law returned to his seat. He banged the steering wheel so hard there was a honk and cursed, “Dammit!” There was no time to comment on his outburst, because Law started the engine and whipped back into traffic.

I watched, entranced, as he maneuvered the Range Rover. He illegally crossed lanes until reaching the exit and then turned off the freeway. More honks followed. Once clear of the freeway, Law flipped the car around and drove in the direction of the restaurant.

In less than five minutes we were pulling back into the parking lot. Law slowed the car down and idled in front of my Honda.

“What are you doing?” I asked, squinting suspiciously at him. Taking a deep breath, I realized I’d been clutching the leather door handle and slowly released my grip.

“Get out.” His words were barely above a whisper.

“What?” I looked around, not sure if he was playing a trick.

“Get out! I’m not going to take you unwillingly.” I reeled at his choice of words and he noticed. “I mean—dammit, I’m going about this all wrong. All I want to show you, Nami, is that you have a friend. So get out. Go to your car. You can follow me if you want or you can drive home. I’m not going to force you into anything.”

Slowly I unlatched the car door, keeping my eyes trained on Law. I couldn’t figure him out. He had more heads to him than Hydra. As I got out of the car, I kept my glare focused on him. Did he really think I was going to buy this 180?

He wanted to be my friend?

Yeah. Right. And Morris accidentally fell into my vagina.

From the safety of my car, I watched Law pull out of the parking lot. He’d idled for a good ten minutes, probably waiting for me to pull up behind him.

Law’s invitation of friendship was tempting; I couldn’t deny that. I hadn’t had someone to talk with in months. Before him, I used to think I was lonely. I’d watch chick flicks and compare myself to the protagonists with their misfortune in love. Now, I knew better.

I had no one. No one cared about me. No one called.

I was truly alone.

“Screw it,” I muttered, putting my car into drive. Just as Law pulled into traffic, I followed. I made sure to stay far enough behind that he couldn’t see me. I wasn’t ready to commit just yet. When Law pulled into the parking lot of a nice hotel, though, it was either continue on or commit.

I committed.

I pulled into guest parking and followed Law into the lobby. He said nothing as he made his way to the elevator. Maybe Law knew that if he acknowledged my presence I would dart back to my car and drive the fuck out of there. Either way, I followed him.

The doors closed, shutting us inside the box. Law pressed the button for the highest floor, still pretending I wasn’t there. A weird sense of safety washed over me. It was much easier to be with Law when he didn’t acknowledge me.

I stared at the crisscross marble patterns on the floor, at the intricate gold inlay, at the mirrors polished too well—at anything other than Law. The doors opened and Law exited first. I followed like the good ghost I was. Above us crystal chandeliers twinkled and the walls were done in wooden designs. Even though I’d lived in Utah my entire life, I’d never been to this hotel. It was something I could never afford.

We entered his room and I hung back, trying to stick to the shadows. I tried not to be beguiled by the plush carpet or intricate molding. I’d spent so much time in my apartment, with gray walls and cold floors, that this place looked like heaven. Still, I knew better than to expect anything other than a whited sepulcher.

Law walked across the room and sat on a chair. First he removed his shoes, then he undid his tie. I watched, fascinated. As Law began to undo his shirt I exclaimed, “What are you doing?”

“I wasn’t sure how long this charade was going to last,” he said, continuing to unbutton his shirt. “Am I to acknowledge your presence now? Or should I continue to undress like you aren’t here?”

“Shut up,” I mumbled, folding my arms. “You know I’m here.”

“Yes, I know that. Do you?” Law stood up, his shirt half buttoned, and studied me. I pretended I didn’t notice the muscles dusted with tufts of hair now evident beneath his undone shirt, like glaring beacons of his raw power. Instead of acknowledging that, I pulled out the desk chair and glared.

Shrugging my shoulders, I asked, “You have me here. Now what?”

“Now anything, Nami.” Law did up the buttons once more, and I quickly shot my attention to the floor. “What do you want to do?”

“I want you to explain why the hell you’re following me,” I said, gaze still pinned on the beige carpet. It looked nice, like it had just been cleaned. “Why won’t you just leave me alone?” Law sighed and I looked up to see him lie back on one of the plush, velvety wingback chairs.