Page 80

I didn’t lie. I do need supplies. The fact that Cade concluded I was on the verge of flooding his pristine leather seats with my period, well that’s on him.

I haven’t had a period in two years—not sinceMamanwas diagnosed. The progesterone pills keep my periods away. I figured if someone was desperate enough, they could dig through my trash, get a DNA sample, and slam me with my greatest fear.

Which is why I also use disposable toothbrushes, clean my drain pipes obsessively, and never leave my hairbrush lying around.

And now I’ve already missed a day of the pill.

“Come on, Saint.” My hand brushes the back of his neck as I move toward the shopping center. I don’t have to bend to reach him, Saint’s full height puts his head at my hip.

Why did Cade insist that Saint come with me?The thought loops through my mind, tugging at the edges of my nerves.

Hector is dead, Clemenza’s been paid and Chicago is miles away. Why would I need a guard?

The store’s bell jingles when I push open the door, making me flinch. Too quaint for a place this size, but small towns are weird like that. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, bathing everything in a cold, sterile glow.

Behind the counter, a kid barely out of his teens gasps, his gaze fixed on Saint. His pale face goes even whiter as Saint steps forward.

“Uh, Miss? You can’t—the dog, he can’t be in here—”

Saint’s eyes snap to the boy, and he freezes, the words dying in his throat. I can almost hear his pulse race from across the room.

I give him a thin smile and lie. “He’s harmless.”

Crouching to Saint’s level, I murmur, “Hey, mate, you wanna wait for me outside?”

Saint’s eyes flick from the cashier to me, then his body shifts forward a few steps before he stops and looks back, as if to ask“You coming?”

The kid swallows hard. “Uh . . . maybe it’s better if you go with him.”

Smart kid. I grab a basket and move down the aisles. I get tampons first—just for cover. Then I head straight to the drugs section.

Thankfully, there’s no queue. The lady only shoots Saint a few wary looks, but otherwise, she hands me a packet of Opill.

On my way to the electronics section, I duck behind a cabinet. Satisfied that no one is watching, I reach into my boot and take out my hidden credit card. When I straighten, I find Saint’s red eyes fixed on me, tension radiating from him. He doesn’t growl, but the look is enough to send a cold trickle of fear down my spine.

My fingers clamp around the card.

He can’t know what I’m doing. It’s impossible.

But those eyes boring into my soul suggest otherwise.

I need to get my act together.Saint is noticing my body language and probably thinks I’m shoplifting.

“Easy, boy.” I find the sweet spot behind the ears, scratching until some of that tension bleeds out of him.

After the nice girl in the gadget section helps me set up my new SIM and phone, I get a pack of toothbrushes, some snacks, and a toy for Saint, and I’m all done.

The kid at check out looks even more terrified than before, his gaze ping-ponging between Saint and me, hands shaking so bad he can barely scan items.

“You doing okay?” I ask.

He nods on autopilot. “Y-Yeah. Fine. Totally fine.”

I paste on a smile and swipe the card for the phone and pills while paying cash for everything else. I feel Saint’s stare. It’s that judgy look again. Like he’s keeping score.

Stare all you want, mate. Too bad you can’t rat me out.

Grabbing the bags, I head for the door. Just before stepping out, I take a quick detour to the magazine rack, pretending to be engrossed in an issue while I deftly tear open the pill packet and stuff the medication in my pocket. The phone goes into my bra and the credit card back into my boot.