Page 74 of Make Me Sin (Bad Habit 2)
“All right. I’ll book you a suite at the Four Seasons—”
“No.”
My father chews on the inside of his cheek like he does when he’s frustrated, but trying not to show it. “Fine, the L’Ermitage, then. It’s small and very private—”
“I’m not staying at a hotel, Dad.”
He bristles. “You’re not going back to your apartment!”
“I can stay with Grace for a few days—”
“It might take more than a few days to get the restraining order,
Chloe Anne, and I’m not taking any chances with your safety! You’ll stay with your mother and me, or at a hotel. Those are your choices.”
“There’s another alternative.”
Startled by the interruption, my father and I look at A.J. He’s talking to both of us, but he’s only looking at me. And his eyes . . . lord, his eyes are so deep and dark there’s no end to them.
“Which is?” my father prompts.
“Chloe can stay with me.”
The room fades to black. My father disappears. There’s only me and A.J., our locked eyes, my heart drumming a crazy, improv beat. I whisper, “Yes, please.”
My father’s looking back and forth between us, but I can’t tear my gaze from A.J.’s. Even if I wanted to, I can’t.
Because everything I never knew I needed is right there, staring back at me.
My father says, “Eric or one of his buddies on the force can easily find out where you live.”
“No they can’t. Property title and all the utilities are in a trust, which doesn’t have my name on it. The place is well off the beaten path. And only three people other than me know the address.” As he gazes down at me, a smile lifts A.J.’s lips. “Four people.”
When my father hesitates, my heart soars. This is a possibility. This could happen. I could be leaving this sour-smelling, antiseptic hospital bed for another one, a dangerous and thrilling one, hidden away in a candlelit room in an abandoned hotel high in the hills. The heartbeat monitor next to my bed goes crazy.
Without looking away from me, A.J. reaches over and hits an unmarked button on the side of the little green box, shutting off the sound. He says, “I’m totally off the grid, Tom. The safest place she can be is with me.” He finally breaks our locked gazes to look at my father. “And if somehow the impossible happened and that bastard did find out where I live and showed up there . . . he’d never be seen again.”
The total conviction in A.J.’s voice, the bald, unapologetic willingness to kill to protect me, is what finally seals the deal. Satisfied, Tommy Two-Time nods. When he looks back at me, the gangster has vanished and my loving father has returned, the cagey glint already erased from his eyes.
“You’re to call me every day, Chloe Anne. No exceptions.”
Pound, pound, thud, goes my heart. “I will.”
“And if anything out of the ordinary happens—you see a strange car lingering around, the electric guy shows up for an unscheduled line repair, you hear some weird clicks on your phone—you tell me right away. Eric might be out of commission for a few weeks, but his buddies aren’t. There are bound to be at least a few of them who’ll want revenge on his behalf. Cops don’t take it well when one of their own gets his ass handed to him on a platter.”
I swallow, unable to answer because fear has flash-frozen my tongue. This is a possibility I’ve never considered. Will I be living with a dark cloud of paranoia over my head from now on, looking over my shoulder, suspicious of every stranger on the street?
“Don’t worry.” There’s an edge to A.J.’s voice. “I’ve got a few tricks of my own up my sleeves. Anyone who gets some dumb ideas about payback will get the surprise of his fucking life.”
I can tell my father is liking A.J. more and more with every word that comes out of his mouth. This entire incident is so bizarre I think there’s a strong possibility I’m hallucinating it all, doped up and dreaming.
Into the room bustles Dr. Mendelsohn, clipboard in hand. He’s sixtyish, bespectacled, bald as a cue ball, and scowling. “Thomas, good to see you. Chloe, my God, your face! Did they get Dr. Frankenstein to sew you up? Christ, these corporate surgeons are butchers.”
Not too alarmed because Dr. Mendelsohn is as neurotic as my mother when it comes to matters of health, I merely shake my head. Then he notices A.J. standing there and does a double take that is cartoonish in its exaggeration. Brows raised, he looks back at my father.
Who snaps, “Just get to work, Mendelsohn! I don’t pay you five hundred K a year to stand around gawking.”
An hour later, reexamined and judged stable enough to leave, I’m released from the hospital into A.J.’s care.
