Page 16 of Taken With Trouble

“No, thank you,” Cruz says.

“I suppose I’ll survive as well.” Though, it might kill me. I motion her onward. She steps forward, and I run my hand along the crevice beside the door, tipping out the envelope there and slipping it up the sleeve of my suit coat.

I smile to myself. Rico has gone above and beyond and will be getting a raise. I could have done it myself, but it’s a little harder with an FBI agent watching my every move.

“You won’t need those fake identity papers in prison,” Serena says, without even turning around. “They’ll give you a new name there. Perhaps…Buttercup.”

I kick a stray pebble off the sidewalk. “Well, now thatIhave a name, you won’t fit in. How about Miss Muffet?”

“How about I throw you in front of a moving car?”

“You’re so violent; I love it,” I say, because I know it will bug her, but also because flirting is my first language. Then English, French, and Spanish. A tiny bit of German and Russian, but I don’t like to brag.

“Stop talking like that, or the only part of you that will make it to the meeting with the Winthrops is your big mouth.”

I trip over a crack in the sidewalk. That was a weird threat. “You think about my mouth, do you?”

“I don’t think about you at all.”

“Now that’s a lie, considering your predicament. I must be the reigning fantasy in your brain.”

“Not in the way you would like.”

“At least tell me, am I shirtless, and are we making out?”

She stops and flips around, her long ponytail slapping me in the face. “Where are we going?”

I lift a shoulder. “It seemed like you were leading the way?”

She fists my shirt so hard I fear she’s going to snap a button. “Stop playing games.”

“I thought I had a hard time keeping models off of me.” I run my teeth over my bottom lip. “They’ve got nothing on you, Special Agent.”

Her dark eyes narrow to slits, annoyance emanating from her flushed cheeks. “I will murder you.”

“You say that a lot. I’m beginning to worry for your vocabulary.”

She sticks her hand down her shirt and comes out with the razor.

My eyes widen as she lifts it, pressing it to my neck. “Where. Are. We. Going?”

My pulse jumps against the razor on my skin. “Are you trying to seduce me?” I slip a hand to her waist and lower my voice. “Because it’s working.”

“Gah!” She shoves away from me.

“Relax, we are on our way.” I turn and continue down the street, only to find our path blocked by a woman and a child who looks to be about twelve on the sidewalk. Homeless.

I almost continue past, not wanting Cruz to see this part of me, but I can’t turn a blind eye. It’s what makes me different from my father. Which means I will always do it if only to prove to myself I will never be like the cruel man who verbally and physically abused his only son. Expecting more from me than I could give. Beating me down until I was sure of my place.

I’m sure now.

I kneel next to the mom who seems to have dozed off. Her son nudges her, and she startles.

“Here.” I hold out a key and speak to her in French. “Belmont Apartments, flat 216. It’s paid for through the next year.”

Her eyes widen as I press the key into her palm. “There’s food in the fridge, and a gift for you under the couch.”

She opens her mouth to say something, to protest, or thank me, but I don’t give her time to try, standing and continuing on.