Page 51 of Break for Me

“Does she know your real name?”

“Probably.”

“But you don’t know hers?”

“I don’t. I know almost nothing about her.”

She sat back in her chair while the waiter placed our plates in front of us. I filled her glass again. If she just passed out, it’d probably be easier to get her back to the car.

“It’s probably my stepdad,” she said. “Nathan Evans.”

That name was disturbingly familiar. I hoped she was drunk enough that she didn’t notice my hesitation when she’d said the name.

“Probably?” I asked. “You don’t actually know?”

“I don’t know if it’s him or his son,” she said.

“What did you do to make them both spend half a decade searching for you?”

“Do you usually take this much interest in your victims?” She asked.

“No. They’re usually unconscious in my trunk. And males. Occasionally, fucking horses. I’ve quite literally never been on a date with one of my jobs.”

“You do the unconscious thing too, huh?”

Hm. There was that unpleasant sting in my chest again.

“Not like Texas did, Triss.”

She giggled like a drunk teenager for a few seconds, and then broke out into a full laugh.

“I don’t think I was telling a joke?”

“We should just leave,” she finally said.

“Oh? Done spending my money already?”

“I can’t decide if you’re the worst person I’ve ever met or if maybe there’s a decent human buried beneath the shit show that’s on the outside. It’s fucking hilarious.”

“It’s definitely the first one.”

She shook her head. “Do you ever tell the truth? Why are we speaking at all? None of this makes any sense. Why even bother asking about who wants me? Or why they do? You have no way of knowing if I’m telling the truth either.”

Yep. Drunk out of her mind now.

“Are you done eating, my dearest wife?” I asked.

She smirked. “Yes, baby.”

Oh boy.

thirty-eight

JERSEY

I retrieved her ridiculous backpack from under the table to pay the outrageous bill with my own damn cash. I couldn’t believe it when she stood up and effortlessly led me back to the entrance of the restaurant. I couldn’t imagine attempting to walk in shoes like that while perfectly sober, and she was strolling out of here like she hadn’t blown through two whole bottles of wine by herself. I pulled my phone out to check where Memphis had set us up for the night. I paid the valet so Seph could stay overnight since their parking garage was only two blocks from the hotel Memphis reserved, but I took the keys from them so we could get my shit on the way there.

“This sounds like an awful lot of extra walking for shoes like this,” Trista whined. I stopped to pull her ancient Chucks from the backpack, and she stopped to look at me like I’d lost my mind. I watched her lean back against the building that we’d stopped beside to try to get her heels off and I laughed like the asshole that I am when she physically had no way to do such a thing without showing the entire world what was under that dress.

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