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“Yes, I’m surprised because I never thought you did those things. Sadie only asked if I was accusing you of playing dirty. So, what was it you got in trouble for?”
She shrugs and says, “Hooking and dealing drugs.”
I spit out the beer I had just poured into my mouth, and Birdie laughs. “You should see your face.”
Reaching for a napkin, I wipe off my chin, enjoying the sound of her laughter. I’m slightly disappointed when she continues, and her smile fades. “When I was fifteen, I accessed the non-public part of the sex offender database illegally and got caught.”
“You’ve been hunting for a long time, then.”
“A long time,” she confirms.
I suspect she has a good reason for doing so, but I don’t ask. Yet.
When dinner arrives, Birdie shocks the hell out of me again by digging in with just as much enthusiasm as a guy. Before long, she’s got sauce on her fingers and her face, and I have only one thought.
I am in a lot of fucking trouble.
Birdie
Stop eating. Stop eating. Put down the chicken wing.
I drop the last wing back on the plate and watch Bastien reach over to pick it up with a wink. He replaces the confiscated drummie with one of his ribs and bites into the saucy chicken.
Who is this guy? He’s definitely not the gruff and growly man I’ve always encountered in the war room.
Seconds after Bastien’s first bite, he drops the wing and reaches for the glass of water brought out with the beer. He takes a healthy swig and looks my way again, grinning sheepishly. “You must have an iron stomach.”
My mind immediately goes to my fluffy middle and then to his washboard abs. I know that’s not what he meant, but abs like his should never be covered. I pick up the traded rib and take a dainty nibble to hide my guilty smile.
The waitress comes by and drops a ticket on the table, and Bastien stuffs some bills underneath before chugging some more water.
He stands after finally relinquishing the cup and reaches for my hand, the move surprising me now as much as it did at home. As I place my fingers in Bastien’s palm, all sorts of things happen to my girly parts.
Funny, just an hour ago, I was mad as hell, assuming Bastien thought me a criminal or worse. Since then, he’s taken my hand twice, led me around with a firm touch on my back, and draped his arm over my shoulders. The mixed signals are killing me, and the only person who seems more confused by them is Bastien.
If that wasn’t enough of a brain cramp, I remember why Bastien wants to hang out with me this weekend, and all warm fuzzies take a hike. Oh yeah, this isn’t a date. He’s concerned someone could be trying to kill you. With Bastien keeping his body close to mine, we walk back out to his truck in the waning light.
I’m halfway expecting the boogeyman to jump out of the shadows and look up to see Bastien studying our surroundings as well. This shit’s beginning to feel a little too real now.
“You’re going to have to tell Knot.” Bastien’s voice calls my attention away from a blue car rolling down the street, but it’s not the right kind or size. “Um. What did you say?”
Bastien’s steely eyes focus on mine long enough for me to know he’s not playing. “Knot. You need to tell him that you’re being followed.”
I want to argue that the whole thing could still be a coincidence and that all this talk of being followed is overkill. At the same time, there’s no way someone could inadvertently trail me from Bastien’s neighborhood to mine.
Still, I’d rather eat glass than have to tell my boss what I’ve been doing on the side. “Let’s wait until…”
I stop because I don’t really have a good argument. “Until?” Bastien prods.
“I don’t know. I want to look for the car first.”
Bastien doesn’t try to mask the skepticism coloring his expression, but he holds his tongue. For now.
We’re back at my house soon, and my nerves rachet up, knowing what comes next. Bastien said he wants to know everything. I’ll tell him, but only because I’m afraid of ending up in a shallow grave somewhere courtesy of Mr. Blue Sedan.
So, Bastien will learn the what, but there’s no reason to tell him the why. I’m sure he didn’t join the Navy to atone for some past sin, so it’s not likely he’d assume that’s what I’m doing.
Bastien parks his truck behind my car and reaches for my arm when I turn to get out. “Let me look around first?”