Page 16 of Please Don’t Go (The Midnight Strike #1)

“We should start with one and maybe do hers another day. They’ll know it was us if it happens on the same night.”

Hmm, I hadn’t thought of that. “Okay, well, I’ll see you?—”

“I’m going with you. This isn’t up for debate. Plus you said you’re still kind of drunk. I’ll drive. I burned off all the alcohol on the run anyway.”

“Daniel.” I suck in a breath. “I don’t need you to come?—”

“Do I need to speak in Spanish to you to get you to understand?”

“How do you know I understand Spanish?”

“For”—he clears his throat—“research purposes, I saw one of your interviews.” He smiles sweetly at me, melting my hesitation for a second.

What’s wrong with me? Am I that big of a loser that a smidge of attention from someone doing research on me makes me feel strangely acknowledged?

“Well?” I impatiently tap my foot.

He takes one step forward. “ Voy a ir contigo, aunque quieras o no. Y no discutas conmigo porque está conversión ya ha terminado. Sí me entendiste esta vez? ”

Wow. “ ?Estás seguro? ”

“Contigo, siempre.”

My lips involuntary part open. My brain quickly attempts to scramble for something to say. It even sends signals to brush it off, walk away, to do something other than stand here and look stupid as I stare at him with stupefaction.

Two words, that’s all they are, but they feel like more than that. They make my heart light up, as though a wick has been lit. The tiny flame warms and illuminates the middle of my cold, black heart.

I shouldn’t put too much thought into words that could be trivial, but something about them makes me feel…something. I don’t know if it’s because they genuinely sound so sincere, but I’m having a hard time finding a flaw.

Words. They’re just words. Snap out of it.

“If you get in trouble, that’s on you.” I don’t mean it because I’d hate myself more than I do now if he did.

“The consequences will be worth it,” he says. “I need you to grab another knife. Preferably a box cutter or something you wouldn’t find in your kitchen.”

I stare at him quizzically. “Why?”

“Because…” His smile turns devilish. “We’re going to slash the last tire with the box cutter and leave it there. So when he calls the insurance, they’ll think he did it himself. It might or might not be considered insurance fraud. I guess we’ll find out…”

“How do you know that?”

“Angel happens to be a little petty.”

“A little?”

He shrugs innocently. “Don’t ask questions. Just go get it.”

I could ask more questions, but something tells me he’s just going to be vague. So, I do as he says.

“Give me your keys,” he asks once I’m back out.

“I may be slightly drunk, but I’m not stupid. I wasn’t going to drive there. There’d be nowhere to park and if there are cameras, they’ll catch my car.”

“So what were you planning…” His voice drifts off as I point to my bicycle. “No problem, you can stand on the pegs.”

“No way. You can stand on the?—”

“Jos, I’m over two hundred pounds,” he states matter-of-factly. I know that but I don’t say it out loud because he’ll know, I too did research on him. “So we’re done arguing about this. Let’s go.”

I shouldn’t like how deep and affirmative his voice sounds, but I do.

He doesn’t waste time to grab my bicycle and get on it, while I still stand in my same spot. “I know you probably want revenge because he slept with your girlfriend?—”

“ Ex ,” he emphasizes like he did earlier.

“Right, ex ,” I emphasize just the same. “But you can find another way to get back at him for sleeping with her.”

“I’m not doing this because he slept with Amanda. Don’t get me wrong, I was pissed at first, but I genuinely don’t care anymore. I’m doing this because he fucked with you and that , I’m not okay with,” he gravely says.

I think the flame is burning a little hotter. I need to find a way to put it out.

“ Oh .” I amble toward him. “Okay.”

I set the knives in the basket that hangs on the handlebars then stand behind him. I know how to climb on, but it’s the thought of touching and being so close to him that makes me hesitate.

When he peers over his shoulder, I wave off the hesitation and stand on the pegs, my hands on his firm, broad shoulders and my front almost pressed to his back.

In silence, we make our way to his house, but after a few minutes, I break through it.

“If it makes you feel better, she was faking those moans. Though I’m sure you knew that…

” I trail off, realizing what I said and not liking the visual that plays in my head.

It’s not Bryson and Amanda I’m picturing but Daniel and her.

I squeeze my eyes tight, blocking the image.

“And I’m certain he was jealous of you now that I think of it. ”

“How would you know that?”

“He’d always make a comment in passing about you but I never?—”

“No, not that. I mean her faking the moans. Did you have to fake them too?”

My eyebrows skyrocket at his bold question. “Yeah, I did.”

“Wait.” He comes to a complete stop, and looks over his shoulder and up at me. Our faces are just an inch apart from each other; we’re so close I can feel the warmth of his breath on my chin. “Are you serious?”

Breathe. You’ve been close to a lot of guys before. None like him though.

I nod. “And his dick isn’t as big as she shouted in the video. She really put on a show for him because I promise he’s not that great. I bet you’re better—” I clamp my mouth shut, wincing. “Forget I said that. Let’s go.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t comment and continues pedaling until we arrive at his street. I tell him to leave the bike a few feet away before I climb off.

“I am, by the way,” he quietly says, not looking down at me as we walk side by side.

My brows draw together in confusion. “You are what?”

“Better,” he confidently and arrogantly states.

I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Tone the cockiness down. I didn’t mean to say that. I just meant?—”

“I know what you meant, and I know my abilities.”

“Right,” I drawl.

“I’m more than welcome to show you.”

I almost falter in my step. “Th-that’s not necessary.”

For some weird reason I do believe that he’d be better, but I’m not going to say that out loud. And I don’t want to keep engaging in this conversation, not because it’s making me uncomfortable, but because I’m afraid of what I’ll say.

The alcohol is still buzzing in my system, and my inhibitions are at an all-time low. The words, well show me could easily slip out of my mouth.

“I’m kidding.” He softly elbows my arm, amusement dripping from his tone. “Don’t take me seriously.”

Of course he is. He’s Daniel Garcia, the guy who’s got his life together. Why would he want to sleep with me? I’m a fucking train wreck.