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What the hell is wrong with her?
“Are we okay?” she asks, her voice small.
“We’re fine. I figured they’d be following me, but it looks like they might be following you too. Just try to lay low, and maybe even stay home as much as you can the next few days, all right?”
“‘Kay.” She nods.
I drive farther into the outskirts of the city, unsure of where I’m going. It isn’t until we hit the sign for Henderson that I take a right and circle back, heading in the direction of a condo I have for days I feel like being alone. The Nissan stays a few cars behind me the entire time.
We pull into the parking lot when we get to my condo, and the Nissan passes by, slowing down slightly as they do. Whoever it is isn’t as slick as I would expect from Lorenzo’s guy.
I kill the ignition and get out, walking around to get the door for Abi.
I expect some kind of refusal from her, but she’s suddenly decided to be complacent. She lets me take her by the hand and lead her up the stairs and through the door. The smell of air freshener hits my nostrils, and I breathe it in. Abi does too. As soon as the door shuts behind us, it’s like her lungs work again.
She goes to the sliding door leading to the balcony, but before she can push the vertical blinds to the side, I grab her hand and ease it to her waist.
“How do you know it’s your family following us?”
I raise a brow and try to understand the fear in her tone. It isn’t for Lorenzo or my other family.
What is she running from?
“Who else would it be?”
“The press?”
I shake my head. “Trust me, those people are easier to pick out. If they followed me to the diner I would’ve spotted them. It was you who was followed.”
Abi swallows and glances toward the window again. She looks like she thinks someone will burst in here at any moment, and I’m not convinced it’s the Gruco’s she’s afraid of finding us.
“Can you think of anyone else who’d want to follow you?”
She shakes her head. “No, there’s no one.”
Liar.
I don’t have the patience to question her anymore, so instead I take off my suit jacket and lay it on the back of the couch. The leather cushion sinks when I sit and rest my head against the back. My eyes close just as Abi’s tapping foot rattles the floorboard.
“So should we continue?” she asks.
I shrug, my eyes still closed. “You can tell me some lies about your kid if you want.”
“His name is Zeke, he’s seven, he’s in second grade. That’s all you need to know about him.”
My lips crook up at the protectiveness in her tone. That might be the one redeeming quality this woman has. She’s a good mother. You can tell he’s a happy kid just by being in the same room as him for a few minutes. According to Ethan, he’s quite the chatterbox also.
“And where is Zeke’s father at?”
“No idea,” she says flippantly. “He was a one-night-stand.”
“Go figure.”
I feel Abi’s eyes burning into me with a glare, and I can almost see the pissed off look that is on her face behind my closed lids. I open my eyes, and sure enough, it’s there.
“You don’t have to be an asshole.” There’s no attitude in her voice like I expect. It’s more matter of fact. “You can dislike me as much as I dislike you. That’s fine. But you don’t have to be such a prick.”
“I thought I was an asshole.”