He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t crack a smile. But the concern, the worry, omg, the fear—softens my response. “Baden,” I say, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’m not doing anything dangerous. It’s just a job. I’ll be fine.”
But his expression doesn’t change. In fact, he looks more unsettled, his nostrils flaring again as if he’s fighting some internal battle. “I don’t want to be controlling,” he says, the words strained like he’s forcing them out. “But the world is a dangerous place—believe me I should know. Even more so for a beautiful woman. That much hasn’t changed since the world began.”
He thinks I’m beautiful?Nope. Not going to let a compliment break through my boundaries. For God’s sake he crossed enough when he investigated my life. I get that he’s worried but I can’t give in. Not to this. I meet his gaze head-on. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m not stopping. This is my life. I make my own decisions.” I grab my keys, and prepare to leave. My phone buzzes again, reminding me that my next pick-up is waiting.
He doesn’t budge and I hope like hell I don’t have to physically move him out of the way because I’m not sure that I can. The man, um vamp, is over six feet tall and solid as a linebacker.
Thankfully, I don’t have to pull out my taser. Which I’m not sure works on the undead. He steps aside giving me a curt nod. Muttering under his breath as I leave. “Be fucking careful.”
Not gonna lie, having a handsome vamp worry about you will crack even the hardest resolve. Instead of giving in, I nod and keep walking. It’s the only way to stop the little splinter in my armor from spreading into a full on crevice.
Merri
The night air feels cooler than usual as I drive, windows cracked just enough to let the breeze kiss my face. The soft drone of my car’s engine and the occasional ding of the Pick Ups app on my phone are the only sounds breaking through the quiet. It’s my escape, my little corner of control. At least, it usually is.
Tonight, though, something feels… off.
I glance at my phone, waiting for the next ride request to come through, but instead, a new notification pops up, making my hopes rise. Maybe, I'll hit my goal tonight after all. Payment received. I smile, tonight was unusually slow. I tap the screen, pulling up the details. My jaw drops when I see the amount. There’s a comma. A big, fat comma in the payment amount.
The hell?
My phone buzzes again, and this time it’s not Pick Ups. It’s a message—from an unknown number.
You’re off duty tonight.
I freeze, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, my heart skipping a beat. I know who this is. No one else would pull astunt like this. Before I can even think about texting back, my phone buzzes again.
I suggest you start heading home.
A low growl builds in my throat, and I glance around the street, half-expecting to see Baden lurking somewhere nearby, watching me like the overprotective vamp he is. My fingers tighten around the phone, and I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
He didn’t.
He did.
My pulse races, my teeth grind down, and my fingers twitch with the urge to text back something snarky. But no. That’s exactly what he wants—some sort of reaction, some acknowledgment that he can control what I do, even from a distance.
I’m not giving him that satisfaction.
Instead, I pull into the nearest gas station, my mind spinning. What the hell am I supposed to do now? I need the money. But this—this is over the top, even for him. He literally bought out my night.
Fuming, I yank my phone out again and type a response.
Nice try. I’m still working.
I hit send, feeling a small sense of victory. But it doesn’t last long. A minute later, my phone buzzes again.
No, you’re not. Check your app.
My jaw tightens, and I flip back to Pick Ups. Sure enough, my availability has been… blocked. No requests. No rides. Nothing.
I glare at the screen so hard, I’m shocked it doesn’t crack. He seriously just bought out my entire night of rides. He must’ve thrown an insane amount of money at the app, enough to lock me out completely. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter, shaking my head. A part of me wants to scream. The other part—well, it almost laughs at the absurdity of it all. I mean, who doesthat? Who buys out a whole night of ride-share jobs just to keep someone from working?
One guess.
I slam my hands against the steering wheel, frustration bubbling up inside me. I need to do something, anything, to reclaim a sense of control. If he thinks he’s won, that he can just wave a pile of cash and make me go home, he’s dead wrong. My phone buzzes again, and this time, it’s another text.
If you’re not working, Let me take you somewhere.