Hidden - Laura Griffin Page 0,74
Some people were drunk. Some were sober. Some were homeless or pretending to be. She registered familiar faces of panhandlers and street artists as she hurried down the block, but it was the unfamiliar faces that concerned her. She watched them without eye contact, taking note of anyone whose gaze lingered on her too long.
Across the street, a parked SUV switched its lights on. She kept her eyes straight ahead and walked right past it. When she reached the square, Tabitha paused beside a restaurant and pretended to read the menu posted on the window.
She studied the SUV in the reflection. It didn’t move. The driver behind the wheel looked to be on his phone.
She resumed her pace and checked her watch. She’d grab her stuff and hop a quick cab to the station. There were still some buses leaving tonight, and she planned to jump on anything heading west.
She glanced over her shoulder.
The SUV was gone now.
Tabitha’s pulse picked up. Maybe something, maybe nothing, but she quickened her steps anyway. Was she being followed? Her chest tightened, and she picked up her pace until her breath was coming in short gasps. The air around her felt charged with energy. She darted her gaze around.
Someone was behind her, watching her. She could feel it.
Up ahead was a crosswalk, and she headed toward the cluster of tourists waiting for the light. It turned green, and they stepped off the sidewalk en masse. She jogged to catch up with them.
A man stepped into her path, bumping into her.
“Sorry.” He grabbed her by the arm, and her heart lurched.
Panicked, she twisted and wrenched her arm loose, then turned and ran into the street. Horns blared, brakes shrieked.
Tabitha whirled around and saw a blinding flash of headlights.
* * *
* * *
BAILEY FELT THE bed shift as Jacob got up. She listened to him pull on his jeans and heard the faint rasp of the zipper.
He left the room, and she waited to hear the front door open and close. It didn’t.
She slipped out of bed and grabbed her short silk robe from the back of the chair. Wrapping it around herself, she padded into the kitchen, where Jacob stood beside the counter, shirtless and checking his phone.
“Anything happening?” she asked.
“Not really.”
He set the phone down as she walked over to stand in front of him. She couldn’t read the look in his eyes, but his hands slid around her waist and came to rest on her butt. His stubble was thicker now, and his hair was mussed from sleep. They’d been out for two solid hours.
“How’s your foot?” he asked.
“Okay.”
He touched her cheek and softly kissed her mouth, and the serious look on his face put a flutter in her stomach.
She slipped out of his embrace and turned to the fridge. “Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Thirsty?”
She opened the fridge, and he stepped over to reach inside for a bottle of water. He leaned back against the counter and watched her as he twisted the top off and took a long gulp, and the sight of his Adam’s apple moving looked ridiculously hot. The sex must be muddling her brain.
He set the bottle down and looked at her.
“If I ask you a question, will you tell me the truth?” she asked.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Yes.”
“Why were you so mad earlier?”
He held her gaze for a long moment. “I don’t like your job. It’s dangerous.”
She opened the freezer and took out a pint of ice cream. She set it on the counter beside him and pulled a spoon from a drawer.
“I’m good at my job,” she said.
“I know. That’s part of why it’s dangerous. You take risks to get what you want.”
She laughed. “I take risks? You’re the one who goes to work every day with a gun on your hip.” She hitched herself onto the counter and peeled off the lid. “Maybe I don’t like your job. Ever think of that?”
She was trying to sound playful, but they were talking about their professions, as though there was more happening here than a single night together.
She hoped there was more, even though hoping that was probably setting herself up for disappointment. She couldn’t help it. The hope was just there, in a secret corner of her mind—a little ember glowing in the darkness—whether she wanted to acknowledge it or not. They had a connection, and it wasn’t only physical. The part of her that indulged in dreamy fantasies wanted this to turn into something.
He came to stand