“I’m tired of you telling me to do my homework!” The to-go box fell to the ground, and the piece of cherry pie slid onto the concrete. “You can’t live forever in the past. Let it go and move on. I know exactly who I work for; they are not who you think. They are under new management and a new contractor—me. Do you think so little of me you’d believe I’d overlook something that could kill someone?”
She saw the hurt in his eyes, and it stabbed at her heart. She had never meant to make him feel like she didn’t trust him, but she didn’t know him. One thing was for sure. She didn’t trust Pete and Todd. She’d dealt with them before, and they were capable of pure wickedness.
“Beau, I believe you’re a good guy, but your paycheck clouds your perception. I’m begging you not to trust them.”
“It must be easy to think clearly since you’ve collected your millions.” He shook his head. “Go home to your penthouse, Bobbie, and leave reality to us commoners.” He stepped away. Bobbie stomped her feet. “You don’t know a thing about me. I live in a tiny apartment on Thirteenth Street. Not because I can’t afford better, but because I’d never spend a dime of their money unless it’s being used to destroy them. It’s blood money, and it wouldn’t feel right.” She turned away and started walking toward her apartment.
“Wait,” he said. Beau rushed forward until he caught up with her.
She didn’t look at him but kept her pace and pressed on. “Go home, Beau. I don’t need you.” The truth was, she needed him more than she wanted to admit. He’d brought a spark back to her life, and she wasn’t willing to live in her emotionally anesthetized world any longer.
“I’m walking you home whether or not you like it.” He shook his head and laughed. “I don’t know whether to curse the universe or thank it, but fate has brought us together, so deal with it.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” She turned the corner on Thirteenth Street and stopped in front of her apartment building. Beau looked at the address. Amusement danced in his eyes, and she couldn’t figure out what he found so funny. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
“Lucky number thirteen.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Good night, Bobbie. I’ll see you soon.”