I Just Need You - J. Nathan Page 0,34
avoiding mine. “I’d like to take you somewhere.”
My head hitched back, not expecting that. “Where?”
He met my eyes but shook his head as if he wanted to tell me but he couldn’t.
“My security team would tell me to beware of people acting strange and not telling me where they wanted to take me,” I said.
“If I tell you, you may not want to go. And I really want you to come with me.”
My brows shot up, curious where he wanted to take me. “Does Marco know you’re here?”
He shook his head.
“Would Marco be okay with us going somewhere?” I asked.
“Probably not.”
Something about him wanting to take me somewhere and Marco not being happy about it if he knew intrigued me. Damn you, Tristan. “Okay. But you need to let Marco know I’m with you so he doesn’t flip out.”
“I’ll text him once we’re in the car.”
“We’re driving somewhere?”
He nodded.
I looked down at my cutoffs and long-sleeve T-shirt. “Is what I’m wearing appropriate?”
His eyes dragged slowly over my body causing a shiver to dance across my skin. “Yeah.” His eyes shot away, clearly not wanting to be inappropriate.
I grabbed my money and ID from my backpack and tucked them into my back pocket. “All set…I think.”
The car was parked at the sidewalk when we stepped outside. I opened the front door and hopped in. Tristan circled the car and slipped into the driver’s seat. I turned to look at him as he started the car.
He noticed me looking at him. “What?”
“Just waiting for you to text Marco. I need someone to know where I am.”
“What are you accusing me of?”
I shrugged. “One can never be too careful.”
“I’m your security, for God’s sake.”
“Yeah, but when have you ever wanted to take me anywhere?”
He rolled his eyes, not bothering with a response. He pulled away and started driving.
“In case you didn’t realize, you still haven’t texted Marco,” I said after a few minutes of silence.
He growled. “Are you always this—”
“Amazing?” I asked.
“No.”
“Wonderful?”
“Nope.”
“Fantastic?”
He huffed, seemingly overwhelmed by my awesomeness.
We drove for another few minutes, crossing into the next town. It was filled with quaint little shops and cafés on both sides of the street. Shoppers walked down the sidewalks with bags of new purchases. “It’s cute around here.”
“I thought you were more of a beach girl,” he said.
I looked at him. “Why?”
“The pictures in your room,” he explained. “They’re all beaches.”
“I told you. I want to live on a private island one day. Those pictures remind me that anything’s possible.”
He switched on his blinker and pulled into a parking lot. The lot was bigger than it appeared, wrapping around the back of a building off a side street—away from the shops and restaurants that made the town so charming.
There were no signs on the two-story brick building, but there was a single metal door on the ground floor. “What is this place?”
“You’ll see.” He cut the engine and composed a text, holding up his phone once he’d sent it off. “I texted Marco. Happy?”
“Very.”
He opened his door and stepped out.
I followed his lead, meeting him at the back of the SUV where he pulled a black bag out of the rear door. “If I knew we were picnicking, I would have made little sandwiches.”
“Do you always need to be such a smartass?”
“Do you always need to be so surly? You’re twenty-five. Not elderly.”
He slammed the back of the SUV and walked toward the metal door of the building.
I followed him, hating how his personality changed from one minute to the next. I glanced around for signs as we stopped at the door. Tristan pounded twice with the side of his fist, then we waited.
“Is it worth mentioning that I’m getting a little freaked out right now?”
“You’re with me. You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he assured me.
The door squeaked open, and a bald man with a huge gray beard wearing a wife-beater opened the door. Tristan flashed him some type of identification and the guy motioned us in with the jerk of his head.
The man disappeared as I followed Tristan down a dim hallway. The sound of gun shots caused me to stop in my tracks. “What is this place?”
“I’m gonna teach you how to protect yourself.”
I stared across the space between us, unsure if I was terrified or relieved.
“It’s good for you to know how to handle a gun. Most civilians—especially women—don’t.” He turned and continued walking.
I followed him to a room at the end of the hallway. It was set up for