Page 68 of The Woman at the Funeral

“Okay. Can I get some things at home first?”

“Of course. Gav is gonna give us a ride and keep watch while we’re inside. Then we’re taking a cab to the safe house.”

“Okay. I should probably get Goya back to Brio.”

“Uh, Brio left.”

“He left? What do you mean?”

“Brio has a way of… giving pets to people. He has a knack for it.”

“So… he’s mine now?”

“Well, for the night for sure. But yeah, for longer, if you want him.”

“Well, we’re going to have to get you some things, huh, buddy?” she asked, making Goya’s fluffy tail swish across the floor. “We can do that, right?”

“Might be best to place an order now,” I suggested. “Get it dropped off at our building before we head to the safe house. I don’t remember how close a pet store is.”

“I can do that,” she said, reaching for her phone.

“I’ll take him out back for a few,” I offered, reaching for Goya’s leash.

“Thanks,” she said, already distracted by the options.

Half an hour later, we were back at her place after quickly stopping at mine to pack a bag.

“Might as well get used to it here,” I told Goya as Blair rushed around to pack her things. “She’s already in love with you. You lucky fuck.”

“Okay. Um. I know it’s a lot. But I just… I didn’t know what I would need,” Blair said, coming out with a large rolling suitcase with another bag attached to the bag. And a weekender bag on her shoulder.

“Seems like a reasonable amount.”

“Should I worry about the food in my fridge?”

“If we’re away longer than expected, I can pop back and clean it out. You should grab your syrup, though.”

“Oh, good idea,” she said, grabbing the syrup, sticking it in a plastic bag, then shoving it into her weekender.

“You ready?”

“To go hide out in a safe house because criminals might want to kill me?” she asked, shaking her head. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

It wasn’t until we had all our shit shoved into a taxi trunk and were both sitting on either side of Goya in the backseat that I finally realized what was about to happen.

I was about to be in a small apartment with Blair.

For days on end.

With little to no privacy.

And my slippery grip on my self-control.

I couldn’t tell if I was worried, or fucking over the moon, about that.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Blair

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