The Enforcer - Kelli Callahan Page 0,22

worried that he would. And I suppose that I could do that kind of thing since people do it every day, but it’s just so ingrained in my head that I have to look a certain way. Like, Michael would have killed me if I’d even consider going outside in the front yard in my pajamas, let alone to a grocery store. I think Jake saw that in the look on my face, which is why he didn’t make me go in.

The driver door opens, and I jump.

“Okay, so here’s what I got,” he says, tossing me several bags. “Good catch,” he teases, as they all land in my lap with only one colliding with my face.

“Thanks,” I say, a little miffed but determined to be kind considering all the effort he put into this. “What did you get?” I ask, “and how much did it cost? I can pay you back when we get back.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he cuts me off, “and have a look for yourself. I hope I got the right size.” He frowns at me.

“What did you grab?” I ask.

“I went with size four jeans, medium size sweatshirts, and I got you a couple of sports bras because I’m terrible at guessing the size of those,” he says, shaking his head and turning the key.

My face flushes with color again. “You bought me underwear?” I ask.

“Well yeah, you’re gonna need them, aren’t you?” he points out, turning back to me and giving me an expression, I can’t decipher.

“Well, yes I do, but I wasn’t expecting―”

“Don’t worry about it. I needed stuff too so it’s fine.”

“Okay,” I say with a nod, pulling out the clothes. Sure enough, two Wyoming sweatshirts, a package of Hanes women’s long sleeve tees, one pair of yoga pants, one pair of size four jeans, an assortment of socks and underwear, and sports bras. Yes, this would definitely do.

“Oh,” he says, reaching behind him and grabbing one more bag from his pile. “I got these too.” He tosses me a pair of shoes. They look remarkably similar to Holly’s Converse, though. These would be a Walmart knockoff.

“Thank you,” I say, with a nod. “I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Now let’s go off to our place,” he says.

“Our place?” I ask as he gets back onto the highway.

“Yeah,” he says. “I made a couple of calls and rented us a hotel room in the area.”

“I thought we were going off-grid,” I frown.

“We’re in North Dakota with a satellite phone, no internet, and no ID. Believe me, we’re off the grid,” he says with a nod.

“Okay,” I sigh. “It would be nice to get to shower.”

“Yeah, it would.” He grins

“What hotel are we staying at?” I ask as he pulls off into a town.

“It’s the Best Western,” he says. “Too simple for your taste, Diana?”

“No, of course not,” I laugh. “I used to work at a Best Western.”

He pulls up in front of the small hotel. “Did you really?” he asks, reaching behind him and shoving the Walmart bags into the duffel bag of cash.

“Yes.”

“When was that?” he questions and pulls out a pay-as-you-go Visa from a Walmart grocery bag.

“After Holly was born,” I say, watching him finish putting the clothes into the bag and stuff all the bags into one, making the car neat again.

“I see,” he says, hoisting out the bag and opening the driver’s door. “You ready?” he asks.

“I am,” I say, following his lead. A large gust of wind slams the door shut on me again. “Oh goddammit!” I cry out, pushing the door back open and staring down at my purple ankle. “Christ,” I moan, “that fucking hurt.”

“Hey now. I’ve never heard you use that kind of language before,” he teases, and I glare at him.

“I kind of feel like this time was warranted,” I mutter, rising up the car again. He holds out his arm to steady me. “I’m okay,” I say. “It’s just bruised; I don’t think it’s broken. Damn that wind.”

“And they say Chicago is the Windy City. Truth be told, Wyoming should be the windy state.”

“Ha. That’s funny,” I say, tucking the sweatshirt over my head and the seam of my pajama pants.

“Sure you don’t want to change in the car?” he teases.

“If you don’t mind, I prefer we didn’t have an audience,” I say, my voice hurt.

“Alright,” he says with a slow smile.

I sense my heart beating faster. “Over there,” I say, pointing to the sidewalk and he shrugs, turning away from me. What