Page 52 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

Pavement turned to gravel as I pulled into the parking lot behind the plaza where my shop was situated. The morning was fairly uneventful, with only a few customers stopping in to buy flowers. My mind continued to stray to the man at my house. Had he woken up yet? Was he still there?

I made a display for the Fourth of July and placed it in the window, hoping it would draw people in. I drummed my fingers on the counter, anxiety tugging at me. A half hour early, I flipped the sign to closed and strode down the sidewalk toward the Clothing Emporium.

The bell tinkled merrily as I entered, and Joey shot me a smile from where she stood arranging clothes on a rack. “Hey! What brings you by?”

I returned her warm smile. “Just browsing.”

I didn’t know Joey well, but our paths crossed often enough that she was a familiar face. “Let me know if you need help with anything.”

“Thanks.” I bit my lip. “Actually... I need a pair of pants. Sweats,” I amended, thinking of the man’s wounds. Those would be far more comfortable than jeans.

“Sure, right over here,” she said, gesturing toward a neat stack of women’s lingerie and loungewear.

My cheeks heated. “Oh, um... I need them for... a guy.”

Her eyebrows rose the tiniest fraction, impelling me to explain. “I have a… friend… who’s a little down on his luck,” I lied. “I wanted to pick up a few things for him.”

She nodded, her intelligent eyes missing nothing as she stared at me. “What size?”

I moved toward the rack and held up a pair. The man was thin right now, but when he filled out again, his size would change. I selected a pair with drawstring. “I’ll take these.”

“Anything else?”

“A shirt. Socks.” I blushed. “Underwear.”

“Sure thing.” She smiled, studying me like she knew I wasn’t being entirely honest. “How many of each?”

I had no idea how to answer that. Who knew how long the man would stay—if he was even there right now. “I’m… I’m not sure.”

Joey’s eyes softened. “Can I make a suggestion?”

My pulse beat hard. Maybe coming here had been a huge mistake. “Sure?”

“I still have a lot of my grandfather’s things at the house. You could use those so you don’t have to buy a bunch.”

I stared at her, dumbfounded. “Really?”

“Of course. I’ll ring up these,” she said, holding up the sweats, and the socks and underwear. “Why don’t you stop by my house after work and pick out what you think will work?”

“That would be great. Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.”

“Any time.” She stacked the items on the counter and scanned each one. “Anything else?”

“Shoes. About... this big,” I said, holding my hands about a foot apart.

Joey laughed. “Let’s see what we can find.”

Four

RODRIGO

Something was wrong. It felt different. It smelled different. I’d learned long ago not to divulge when I was awake, so I lay there, eyes closed, ears tuned to every sound around me.

Air flowed through vents nearby, spilling cool air over me. Farther off, I heard the soft hum of some sort of appliance. Insects and birds called to one another outside, their chirps muffled by the glass of the window.

Ever so slowly I cracked my eyes open and immediately winced. The soft blue walls were a stark contrast to the dingy gray of the cement block room I’d come to recognize. I started to lift a hand, but it was constricted by something. I shifted, and the silky material of a white down comforter slid over my skin.

My brows drew together as I carefully extracted one arm, holding it up in front of me and examining it. The smaller cuts appeared to have been cleaned, the deeper lacerations covered with gauze and tape. Someone had patched me up. Not that I didn’t appreciate it, but I was wary enough to believe it was a trap. Wouldn’t be the first time those assholes had tried to lure me in with a false sense of security before turning on me once more.

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