Page 9 of Song Bird Hearts (Green River Hearts #4)

Valerie

W ell, it’s not a Starbucks, but it’s also not any sort of coffee shop I’ve seen before. I know I was spoiled back in Steele with Georgia and her coffee, and nothing ever truly compares to that, but this place looks sketchy as hell.

“You sure you want me to leave you here?” Perry asks hesitantly, his eyes on the storefront before me. “I was gonna say I could watch Kevin while you go in since they probably don’t let pigs in, but. . . honestly, I think they won’t mind.”

Yeah. It’s that bad. The front of the storefront is located on the corner of two streets.

The street signs are missing, only the metal pole left behind where it used to say the names completely covered in stickers.

The sidewalk is covered in old bubblegum and stains that I’m certain are from pee judging by the smell.

The storefront declares that it’s the “Nightingale Coffee Shop” and it might have been a nice place once.

Now, it barely looks open. One of the large windows was clearly broken out at some point, but instead of fixing it, they just put up a piece of plywood that looks like it’s been there for a while.

Someone tagged it with harsh graffiti that I can’t reliably read to know what it says.

The door has metal bars on them, but some of it has rusted away, leaving a few of the rungs with sharp, brutal points.

Grass grows up through the cracks of the pavement around the door, and there’s trash floating around despite the empty trashcan to the side of the door.

Hell, the trashcan looks cleaner than the door.

“Yeah, this is where I need to go,” I reassure Perry. Hank wouldn’t steer me wrong. If he says to be here, then this is where I should be. “I’ll be okay.”

Perry winces. “It doesn’t feel right leaving you here.”

“It’s fine,” I reassure him. “Seriously. You go live a good life and pretend you don’t know a damn thing about me. If they ask, feel free to tell them where you dropped me off at. I’ll already be gone.”

Perry purses his lips. “You were the kindest person I’ve ever driven. I hate to see you go.”

That makes me sadder than anything else. Perry is a good person. The fact that he’s been driving around assholes is bullshit. I’m not even overly nice. It’s just the bare minimum of manners.

“Thank you for your help,” I tell him. I reach into my purse and pull out the wad of money I had in there. It’s a couple thousand dollars I think. I press it into his hands. “Consider this severance pay.”

His eyes bug out. “You said you didn’t have any cash.”

“I said I didn’t have much,” I correct. “And now, I don’t have hardly any.”

“I can’t take this?—”

“You can and you will. Your son’s birthday is coming up. Get him something nice.”

I swear the man is about to cry. His eyes water and he blinks rapidly, but before the tears can fall, he pockets the money and kneels down to pat Kevin on the head. The pig gives him happy little grunts and wags his curly tail. Kevin makes friends everywhere he goes.

I hug Perry and then turn toward the dirty coffee shop door. “Come on, Kevin.” I poke my head into the surprisingly clean shop and focus on the barista behind the counter. “Uh, can my pig come in?”

The guy nods as if it isn’t the weirdest question he’s ever been asked and gestures for me to come in. When the door closes behind me, he asks, “What can I get you?”

I grimace and glance at Kevin, before focusing back on the very normal looking man. He’s wearing an apron and everything. His beanie has the coffee shop name embroidered on it. There’s a stain on his white shirt that looks like it came from the coffee he works with.

“Umm. . . I’ve. . . broken both legs and I need an orthopedic surgeon,” I mumble out hesitantly. It sounds ridiculous saying it now, but it’s the line.

The barista’s expression changes from pleasantly welcoming to completely serious. “Of course. Right this way.”

And then he turns and leads me toward a door I hadn’t even noticed.

It blends in so seamlessly with the rest of the wall, I wouldn’t have even known it was there.

Inside the doorway is a room. It’s plain mostly, except for a few shelves lined with water and food, a comfortable looking chair with a blanket over the arm, and a TV playing an old rerun of Friends.

A small stall off to the side looks like it’s the bathroom.

“You’ll be safe in here. The door won’t open until your ride arrives,” he instructs.

“Wait,” I say when he goes to close the door. “ Will I be safe in here? Is this room bulletproof?”

He cracks a smile, clearly amused. “Lady, this room can survive a nuclear blast. I don’t think bullets are getting in.”

And then he closes me into the room. Well, okay then.

I look around me, noticing that the walls do feel super thick at least. My first perusal of the room told me everything there was and when I search more, I realize that’s pretty much all that’s in here. Nothing extra. I’m surprised there’s even a tv.

“This feels like some spy shit, Kevin,” I tell the large potbellied pig. He grunts at my use of his name. “You’d make a great spy.” Another grunt of agreement.

With nothing left to do, I settle down to wait for whoever is being sent to help me.

I trust who I called, but I never expected all of this.

What kind of shit is Hank into that he has this sort of connection and pull?

I’ll have to ask him when I see him. This is almost over the top and feels silly, but the kind of people I’m running from, you don’t exactly get away.

If I survive this, it’ll be a fucking miracle.

I cover up with the blanket and watch TV, kicking my feet up on Kevin when he insists on laying under my legs.

I’m nodding off on the second episode when the door clangs and someone starts to open it.

I sit up in the chair, the blanket clutched to my front, as I stare at where I entered and the two men who suddenly fill the doorway.

“Valerie Decatur?” the taller one asks. The other one looks at his partner in shock before looking at me.

“Who’s asking?” I say, chin tilting up. I’ll fight if I have to. My mama taught me how to scrap when I was a kid. I can throw down when necessary.

“Your babysitters,” the taller one grumbles.

I raise my brows. “Okay, grumpy. Do the babysitters have names?”

“As far as you’re concerned, we’re Thing One and Thing Two,” he growls. “We need to go.” His eyes flick to Kevin. “What is that? No one mentioned a pig.”

“This is Kevin Bacon,” I offer. “He prefers to be addressed by his name and not ‘pig.’”

His brows furrow. “We’re not taking the pig.”

“I go nowhere without him,” I say, my eyes narrowing. “If I go, he goes.”

“Fine,” and then he turns like he’s going to leave.

“Now, hold on there, couillon ,” the second man says in a voice thick with the swamps of Louisianna.

I blink in surprise at him as he trails into the room and studies Kevin.

“He’s got a certain charm. I say he comes with us.

” He grins at me, and offers a hand. I look at it before slowly letting him shake my own.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, cher . Big fan. ”

“Uh, thank you?” I say, glancing between him and the other guy standing grumpily at the door. “Are you Thing One or Thing Two?”

He grins. “You can call me Gilden actually. Gilden Boone. As for the other one over there, Thing Two is perfect. It’s his kink. He really likes it.”

Thing Two scowls in annoyance and I decide I immediately like Gilden. It takes everything inside me not to laugh. “Nice to meet you, Gilden.” I stand up. “So, I take it you know where we’re going?”

But when I stand up, Gilden stumbles back, his eyes going up to me.

He’s an average height man, probably around five nine, but compared to my six two, he’s forced to look up.

I’ve encountered many men who are intimidated by my height, who immediately go from flirty to insecure in a heartbeat.

Gilden though? He just whistles and looks me up and down appreciatively.

“Hot damn!” he says, his eyes sparkling. “They didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout you bein’ that tall. Gon’ need a step ladder and a prayer to reach you.”

I snort and then cover my mouth and nose to try and hide it. I fail. Gilden’s eyes light up so bright, he might as well be the sun. “Short guys usually don’t react so positively to my height,” I offer as explanation. “You just surprised me is all.”

He grins and I know the next words out of his mouth are gonna be as wicked as the look in his eyes. “You might be a little outta my reach, cowgirl. . .” he says, with a wiggle of his brow. “But I’m damn good at climbin’.”

My checks flame. I can feel the blush crawl up my neck and to my cheeks, the heat of it immediately making the room feel too hot. “I, uh?—”

“Enough,” Thing Two growls. “We need to leave. Now.”

Gilden winks up at me, the cheeky bastard, before gesturing for me to go ahead of him. “You first, cher . Stay between us and we’ll get you to safety.”

“And Kevin?” I ask.

“And Kevin. Can’t have my favorite cochon getting hurt,” he reassures me.

The moment we exit the coffee shop, my heartrate kicks into high gear. “You two aren’t gonna get me killed, are you?” I ask.

“We’re gon’ keep you alive,” Gilden reassures me. “You have my word.”

“How much is the word of a sweet-talkin’ Cajun worth?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at him.

He shrugs and flashes another signature smile at me. “Guess you’re gon’ have to find out, cher ,” he teases.

“I’d feel a little better if I knew Thing Two’s name,” I murmur, glancing at the stoic man leading the way.

He scans everything around us, and moves like he’s ex-military.

Judging by the tattoos on his forearms, I’d say that’s exactly what he is.

The man belongs in a war movie. Dressed in black jeans that look pristine and ironed, and a clean, black button-down shirt, it only highlights just how attractive he is.

His hair is trimmed neat and short, the brown locks almost black in the shitty coffee shop lighting.

His beard is more scruff than anything else, like he hasn’t shaved in a few days.

And those piercing dark eyes? The man’s looks could kill.

At my words, he glances over his shoulder and pins me with those eyes. He seems to war with himself on if he should say anything, but after a moment, he grumbles, “Knox.”

“Nice to meet you, Knox,” I say, flashing him a smile that only makes his frown deeper. “I appreciate the help.”

“It ain’t help,” he grunts. “It’s a paycheck.”

My smile falls. “Yeah. I get that a lot.”

He glances back at me roughly, and something eases a little in his gaze. But I don’t want to address it and gesture for him to continue. “Lead the way, Thing Two,” I encourage. “The faster I get out of this city, the faster I can put this all behind me.”

He looks like he wants to say more, but clamps his lips shut and leads me out of the coffee shop and into a black car waiting on the curb. It’s always black cars, I swear.

“Do I gotta lift the cochon , or—” Gilden blinks in surprise when Kevin jumps into the backseat with me. “Never mind.”

“He’s used to cars,” I tell him with a shrug. “He’s?—”

The sound of a gun goes off followed by the ping of a bullet against the top of the car. I shriek and duck, wrapping myself around Kevin to protect him. Gilden doesn’t bother getting in the front seat. He throws himself into the back seat with Kevin and me and slams the door shut.

“Fucking go!” he tells Knox before pushing down on my head. “Stay down, cher. ” He pauses. “In different circumstances, I’d enjoy pushing your head down and?—”

“Not the fucking time!” Knox snarls as he drops the car in gear and guns it.

More gunshots follow. “Are we about to die?” I ask, treading real close to a panic attack. My heartbeat is so loud, it’s like thunder in my ears.

“Not today,” Gilden reassures me. “This car is bulletproof. Don’t worry, cher . We’ve got ya.” To Knox, he says, “Either lose ‘em or let me shoot ‘em.”

“It’d be quicker to shoot them,” Knox grunts, and I lift my head a little.

Gilden pushes me back down. “Stay down, cher .”

“I thought you said it was bulletproof?”

He grins down at me. “Maybe I just like the way you look up at me, la grande flamme .”

That shouldn’t be hot with bullets flying all around us, but I’m a sucker for a confident man. “That tongue ever get you into trouble?” I ask seriously, but I can’t help but grin up at him.

“All the time,” he says with a wink. “But you seem like trouble on two legs.”

He leaves the implication hanging in the air, that he wouldn’t mind getting into me.

God damn. I thought this was going to be nothing but anxiety and fear and here I am smiling through a shower of bullets.

“Stay down,” he purrs before pulling out a gun I never saw him have. “It ain’t so bulletproof when the window’s down, cher .”

And then he hangs out the window like this is a 007 movie and I’m the damsel in distress. And you know what?

Apparently, I’m into that. Who knew?